Morrigan looked up from her fire as the Warden drew close. "Arren," she said, dipping her head slightly in acknowledgement of his presence.
A slight smile curved his lips. "Here's your stew," he said, and held out a tin plate full of what he and Alistair insisted on calling their 'never-ending stew'.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the plate from him.
"You're welcome," he said, and turned to walk back to the fire shared by himself, Alistair, Sten and Leliana.
"You don't have to do this, you know," she said abruptly.
Arren stopped and turned, looked at her curiously. "What? Bring you your meal?"
"Yes. I am perfectly capable of fetching my own sustenance, you know."
Arren smiled, lips crooking up more at one side than the other. "I know. But it gives me an excuse to get away from the bard for a while. For some reason she doesn't feel welcome over at this end of the campsite."
"Possibly due to my threatening to turn her into a toad if she did not cease proselytizing her absurd faith to me," Morrigan said dryly, and took a cautious bite of the stew. "Oh, this is very good tonight."
Arren smiled again, and nodded. "I've stopped letting Alistair have a turn at adding things to the pot. He seems to want to put cheese in everything. And one good thing about Leliana, the woman at least knows her herbs; she found a few things to add to improve the flavour while we were setting up camp."
Morrigan nodded. "She does have her uses, I suppose," she agreed, then nodded to the ground nearby. "Don't loom so. If you're going to stay and talk, have a seat."
Arren grinned, and sat down, first removing the huge two-handed sword that hung down his back, placing it carefully to hand on the ground beside him. "I do believe that's the first time I've ever been accused of looming."
"Aren't you tall for an elf though?" she asked curiously. "You stand almost even with me, and I am no slight figure."
"No, that you're not," Arren agreed, looking her over appreciatively.
Morrigan paused, surprised, then laughed. "Are you flirting with me?" she asked.
"Maybe. If I thought it wouldn't get me turned into a toad," Arren said, smiling and then glancing away for a moment, a faint flush the only sign that he was perhaps feeling a little uncomfortable with the subject.
If he had been Alistair he'd have been blushing outright, she was sure. She was... surprised. And possibly a tiny bit flattered by his interest, as well. He was always such a gentleman about everything, right back to when he'd so honestly thanked her for her role in saving himself and Alistair following their near-deaths at Ostagar. And unlike his fellow-Warden – who still commonly referred to her as "that witch" in a tone of voice that made it clear he'd prefer to be using a word starting with "b" instead – he was unfailing polite. Even... chivalrous. Witness how when she'd begun camping at some distance from the others, he'd started making a habit of bringing her meals over to her. Or how he made a point of soliciting her opinion on matters, not just Alistair's. Not a courtesy he displayed to everyone else, either; he only rarely consulted with the bard about anything, and while he did make a habit of having regular conversations with the qunari they'd rescued from a cage in Lothering, he never asked his advice at all, at least that she'd ever seen.
"I have a question," she stated after a while, before taking up another spoonful of stew.
"Ask away."
"Why that large a sword? 'Tis not a usual weapon among the elves, is it? The blade is almost taller than you are."
Arren smiled, shrugged. "I don't know. I'd started as an archer, actually, but I was never very happy with a bow. I was thinking of switching and trying dual-weapons instead, so I went to see our master craftsman so I could try some blades out. He sometimes did commissions for shem he'd met in his travels, and he'd just finished a big sword for a friend of his. It was standing there, leaning against the side of his aravel, and I picked it up out of curiosity, wondering what a weapon that huge would feel like... and it just felt right, which none of his smaller blades did. So I talked him into making me a two-handed sword as well. Finding a piece of ironwood big enough, and then someone who could teach me to use it, was the real problem; you're right that it's not a common weapon among the elvhen."
Morrigan nodded. They both fell silent, neither of them very comfortable with conversing with others. Especially others of the opposite sex.
"Well, I should get back to the main camp," Arren said after a while. "I can take that back, if you'd like," he said, nodding at her now-empty plate as he rose and lifted his sword back on.
"Thank you," she said gravely, handing it over to him. "Perhaps we can talk again another night?"
He smiled, warmly. "I'd like that," he agreed, almost shyly, before he turned and walked away to the other fire.
She found herself smiling, watching him walk away.