Ngikhnit finds that the blue boots fit him perfectly - and surely they are larger than they were when Jon first picked them up? The cloak too is not too short. If truth be told, if anyone would dare tell him the truth, he looks... stylish. And blue.
Ngikhnit shrugs. Boots are boots. Cloaks are cloaks. Perfectly useful, but what's the big deal? Unless... the sudden change in size. Must be magic. And if these items are magic, what other magical properties do they have? "I'll have to find someone who can figure out what's so special about these." It evidently (pace DM's note below) doesn't occur to him to ask Jon directly.
Yawning again, he goes over some details with Peladus and also makes sure everyone's name is written down on Rilithorne's parchment for future reference.
The barbarian carefully prints, in simple block form, NGIKHNIT. He is literate, but evidently not especially experienced with written communication.
Ngikhnit, the most obviously recognisable of the heroes, is the main beneficiary. Strangers approach to shake his hand and ask for the tale. If his replies are short and to the point, nevertheless this mild fame makes his welcome in Orussus warmer than it otherwise might have been.
"We heard a story of a falling star, chased it around the harbour, and in that enchanting fishmarket we found these foul smelling creatures floating around, they kept disappearing and reappearing. They were hard to find, and harder to kill. Every time someone hit one with a sword it would split in two, and we'd only have more critters to chase. But this flail was too much for them." His proud role, as bearer of the weapon most lethal to the enemy, clearly erased his earlier shame (which he does not repeat) at the water's edge.
Ngikhnit will stay around Orussus for some time, and you might well see him back at the Red Dragon Inn.