What a Dwarf Wants

A day after I landed here, I was ambushed by a pile o' Dark Elf filth, an' had t' fight my way free. Next thing I know, I'm found by High Elves who offer me wine to sooth my nerves. WINE! Don't get me wrong, |n; I'm sure it's a fine vintage an' all, but strong drink ought to be made from grain and pure mountain spring water! It shouldn't be squeezed from grapes, then left to go sour in a bottle! I fear that there ain't a drop o' ale to be had on this whole island! On top o' everything else, me fine adventurin' clothes are torn to rags. All I've got are these Elf clothes, and none will fit. They've got good intentions, but these Elf allies of mine are too long in the leg and too thin the waist to properly clothe a Dwarf!

Talk to Rudrin Ironspigot again, and try to calm him down.