Roan's Almanac of All Things Dwarven

From deep within the heart of the Stonewall Mountains, home of the magnificent halls of the Wheel Clan, do I bring you, humble reader, this tome pertaining to all things dwarven.
Though it is true that I, Gideon Percival Roan, have never actually set foot within those halls, I have spent my life in the dwarvish studies, and have even shared words with a dwarf or two in my day. I can wholeheartedly testify to the authenticity of the information imparted within.
1
The most important thing for one to know of our dwarven brothers is that theirs is a culture based upon honor. Every word they speak, every action they take, must be grounded in honor.
For instance, let us take the subject of the dwarven name. A dwarf, under no circumstances, will speak his name to one he does not call his friend. And what a thing it is to be a dwarven friend, indeed! A dwarf would not think twice to throw down his life to defend a friend! But I digress. A dwarf’s true name, his family name, is a sacred thing, a thing of mystery and power, according to their customs. Their names are symbolic, being a reflection of their very history, of who they are in this world. If a dwarf trusts you, he will perhaps impart his common name unto you, but if he utters his family name to your ear, you are blessed with the truest friend you will ever know.
2
One must be aware, when approaching a dwarf, of things one must never say or do. For while it is said that a dwarf’s patience is as long as his axe handle, I know first hand the fury of a dwarven rebuke when one runs afoul of dwarven etiquette.
Never must one insult the beard of a dwarf. Next to his name, his beard is his most prized treasure. A dwarf is measured by the grandness of his facial growth, and to refer to it in less than reverential tones is to beg a beating.
Further, asking of a dwarf the name of his clan is tantamount to slapping him in the face. The name of his clan holds the sacredness of his own name tenfold in his heart. So do not ask, unless you wish to test his mettle, which I can in no way recommend.
Lastly, never ask a dwarf about dwarven women. For some mysterious reason, their women are hidden away, and are never even whispered about amongst themselves. I myself made the nearly fatal mistake of attempting to ascertain whether the female of the dwarven species grew facial hair, and was fortunate to escape only severely maimed.
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