I leave this message for all noble souls who seek what I seek:
I have taken the Engineer's advice. I have cleared my armor and gathered some meager rations. I will set out tomorrow. The Dwarfs have been kind in their way -- manny offered me barrels of dark and frothy ales, but I fear I cannot stomach drinks with so much detritus floating in it. I am told that this is the merit of a chewy brew. My people understands the term differently.
They are a hardy people, and I believe I can forgive them their craven cannons and powder weapons, for they are not a race built for the honor of fighting atop a charging steed. I do not know if their hope of reclaiming their ancient kingdoms is anything more than a candle's light in the darkness of their cavern keeps, but it does seem to keep them drinking, fighting, and as hardy as the stone that surrounds them.