Not again! I forgot to clear the way after last time! Oh, I am such a-- wait,
human outpost liason?!
Err... well, this is somewhat unusual, but I suppose we can--
Is it? Is it really? Humans pretending to be dwarves, that's just how the world's always been, huh? Actually, I can't remember more than a few months in the past; perhaps this really is perfectly normal outside our fortress.
Anyway, on to the yearly trade agreement. I know a thing or two about dwarven business and diplomacy, you know! The trick is not to look too keen on what you're after; otherwise they jack up the price to something completely unreasonable. You have to hide what you really want in the middle of a bunch of seemingly unrelated things. Allow me to demonstrate:
Yes, we have a, um, serious shortage of mittens. All the little dwarves' hands are going cold. It's dreadful.
And it's absolutely vital that you bring us some polar bear brains (properly prepared, mind, not just raw). We've got a few migrants from a fortress near the glaciers and they're homesick for their traditional dishes.
Oh, and we need some sweet pod seeds as well. (This is actually a double bluff: we really don't have any sweet pod seeds!)
And... well, I suppose if you happen to bring any steel or gold ingots or anything like that, we might buy a few. Maybe. Just so long as you remember the polar bear brains.
Phew! I don't think he suspects a thing. Now for the export agreement...
Oh man, this guy is clearly a professional. I have no clue what the Mountainhomes want at all. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's just bluffing about the anvils, but...
You win this round, Zuntīr. Mind you don't hit your head on the doorframe on your way out.