The chattering is the fault of whomever told him he was wearing too many layers. They didn't specify how many was too many, so when he dressed to go help her with an order, he overcompensated the other way. Farogil's thickest hose, heaviest tunic, and wooliest hood were sufficient to get him there, but he's not been able to escape the chill that set in during that harrowing 2 minute walk.

"Oh, thank you," he murmurs as he draws it around his shoulders, arms drawing in tightly so he can tuck his fingers under his biceps for a little extra warmth. "Ssorry. We- never had snow like thiss in Cliffss- back home. I'm woefully unprepared."