“What makes me so dashing?” he repeated out loud, while his brain pondered on that very core of his being. Then after only a moment, he had the answer, “I was born with such skills, or so I have been told by many a maiden. And when one has such a gift, they must use it carefully, otherwise it may be translated quite differently to others.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing at how seriously he took it, and subsided into a mug. “Such a hard burden for you to bear,” she said, and then lost it completely, putting her head down on the table and laughing. Between giggles, she choked out, “I’m not sure I can take your word for it. I might need proof.”
Though Fandral was not known for his brains, he knew when he was the root of laughter. Over the years, he had come to learn that not every maiden was fair, and would fall for his charm. It didn’t bother him as much as it could have, but still the feeling of being insulted was not pleasant. “I do not know if I could spare the time for a demonstration,” Fandral replied.
Forcing herself to stop laughing, she raised her hands, placating. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s not meant as an insult, only you took it so very seriously.”