"I thought you're only supposed to fall out of your chair AFTER drinking," he jokes lightly, though his face is anything but amused. He gives another grunt as someone grabs his arm and helps him up. He is vaguely aware that the person knows his name.

Fergus? No. The voice was too light for the other blacksmith. Who else did he know? Crap he was bad with names.

With the help Sam is able to grab the stool and uses it to get himself back onto his feet. Rotating his arm a bit, Sam gives a huff. Chuckling at his own clumsiness he turns to look at whomever helped him up.

"Sorry bout that. Thanks for help... me..." his lips move a few more times, but there aren't any words that come out. His eyes widen and for a long time he just stares dumbly at the Elf standing next to him.