Aranhil's look went from a sunny, happy grin, to a dark glare in under a second. Emotions covering from whiplash, he turned to her. "What did she say?" He asked, clearly displeased. "I believe I need to have a....'chat' with your new maid." He did not find it appropriate, at all, for her to be telling his wife about such things. His wife was innocent, and sweet. She did not need to be troubled by thoughts of what women did, or did not, wear when working at such places. "Don't worry, sweet one. You won't have to fuss about such things again."

"As for your question, well....I think I can answer that." He said with a shrug. He sat back, looking to the sky thoughtfully, as if trying to recall an old lesson. "With dragons, everything is strong. Or practical. Our hands, our legs, our wings....a lady's breasts are practical, they feed her children. Her....parts....produce the children. But her feet, well....they are small, and dainty. They are her only real sign of femininity. Now. Long ago, before the war started, elves and dragons use to be friends, you know. We had a king....Huran the Hungry, if I remember correctly. He use to visit the elves all the time. And each time he came back, well...he had another couple of lovely ladies with him. You see, Huran had a huge foot fetish, and he adored the way that elves prance around barefoot." As he spoke, he casually ran his hand along her calf, his fingers tracing their way along her soft slipper. He smiled. "So much bare skin on display. He'd put them in long dresses, so that their feet would peek out at him, secret hints of lust for him to try to catch whenever they so appeared. It's said that his fetish was so strong, it passed down. From generation, to generation." He smirked. "All the way down to.....," His grin suddenly turned evil. "Me."

Without warning, he ripped her shoe off, laughing as he tossed it over his shoulder. He set to work, teasingly kissing and tickling her foot, trying to draw a giggle from his lovely lady. He, honestly, had no clue why feet were so special. But he loved any chance he got to tease her. Clutching her ankle, he worked mercilessly on tickling her. After he was sure she could stand it no longer, he gripped her thigh, using it to pull her to him. He grabbed her by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap and crushing her to his chest so he could kiss her.

For a long while, he sat there, his wife clutched close to him. Drawing back, he smirked. "And that, my darling, is why you should never show anyone your feet." He whispered in her ear. He kissed it. Gently he worked his way down her jaw and across her neck. He laid her down lightly, rolling over her and kissing her again. "I love you, Sylvia." He told her quietly. "I would go a thousand days without shoes if that was what it took to keep you with me."