"The problem with seven-league boots is balance."
Petyr scowled. "There can be no problem, covering a week's travel in one step!"
"Ahh, but should you fall as the boots stride - or one slip off one foot - you may be dragged down the road, head tripping along the ground." The old man smiled. "Must be spry.
Petyr gawped. “Imagine, conked in the brainpan, leagues from anyone!”
The old man nodded. “You see why I am reluctant to sell them, at any price,” he said, regretful. “It is a bridge you need, not boots. I have one for you …”