It seemed that she did not find his mistake dull-witted, or if she did, she did not mock him for it. He acknowledged her answer with a shallow dip of his head, both appreciative and slightly sheepish.
She seemed slightly surprised to hear that anyone could be killed in a bar fight; though he was not glad to be the one to enlighten her, he was glad that she had not seen such things. The crowds of mercenaries that swarmed the dirtier pubs in the city could be notoriously territorial, and as aggressive as their profession made them, taking offense at any imagined slight when the odds were right. Even worse were the times that elves went to taverns frequented by certain sorts of humans, those who decided to demonstrate their self-decided superiority through violence. Perhaps with Gwaren's diversity, a large population of dwarves mingled into the usual humans and elves, such prejudice held less of a foothold here.
Her pride made him smile. Such familial devotion was no stranger to him, though to a brother instead, in his case; it was a spark of warmth in his dull-cold heart, a bridge of familiarity between two people who were unlike in a hundred other ways.
"Perhaps I shall," he said. He wouldn't, of course, approaching strangers not being his strongest point. It was the rare occasion when he struck up the boldness to speak to one he didn't need to, and rarer still that they remained interested enough to continue to speak with him. Most fortunate of all was when they could carry the conversation, themselves. This, the young dwarf was doing quite well; he was almost as fascinated by her ability to ask so many questions as she seemed to be by his travels.
They were all said in one breath, and he listened with care, lining them all up in his mind to be answered one by one. "Well," he began, bracing himself for more talking that he was inclined to in an entire conversation. "I fight Darkspawn. When I can. There are less of them since the Blight, but they roam on occasion. I...suppose you could say that it is my home," he hesitated, the metaphor confusing his literal mind, and he took a moment to puzzle it out. Yes. It was his home. That, and the road. Was a home not where one belonged? He did not belong in Denerim. He never had. "I am not sure if it is tedious."
Ordhan felt a little sorry for her, wanting to see so many places, but likely no more able to wander the world than most were--while he, who had only wanted to remain in one place, was driven like a leaf in a restless wind. "I am not sure what is my favorite," he answered. It was not quite a lie. She had asked about where he had traveled, not where he was raised. Perhaps his memory of Denever was seen through the biased eyes of a child, but every town and city he had seen dulled in comparison. Taking the last several questions as one lump, he answered, "I fought a very difficult battle by Dragon's Peak, two years ago."