Renaud blinked, his smile faltered for a moment but he quickly recovered with a laugh. "Why, yes, in fact I am. And you might be?"

Maebh took another step back as Loghain stepped forward. They exchanged glances. "Yes, Brother, allow me to introduce the, uh, other Grey Warden in Ferelden."

"A pleasure to meet you, Brother!" he said brightly and bowed.

Loghain's jaw was set. He did not return the gesture. "Where are the others?"

"The other Wardens you mean? They are still a few days away. We were traveling by caravan. I was so, how do you say, eager? To meet you both, I went ahead of the rest."

Maebh looked from the man's fine armor to his excellent weapons to his princely steed and wondered if he ever had to loot his gear off dead bodies. She shivered in the early morning chill. "You'll have to excuse the state of the place," she said sheepishly. "Nobody's lived here in a long time and we only just arrived yesterday ourselves."

Loghain grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her towards the Keep. "Excuse us," he sneered over his shoulder.

Maebh glanced back at the Warden standing alone in the courtyard, baffled, and then back at Loghain. "What? What did I do wrong?"

He just shook his head. "We'll talk inside," he grumbled. He shoved her into the Keep and slammed the door behind them.

Maebh stumbled and caught her balance. "What is wrong with you," she demanded, irritable.

He gritted his teeth. "What is wrong with me? Did you hear that... that..."

"That comrade?"

"You bite your tongue, girl." He went to the hearth. "First, do not apologize to them. If they have complaints about the accommodations they should have thought about that before raping our land for a hundred years."

"A hundred years?" Maebh glanced out the window and snorted a laugh. "He's aged well."

Loghain ignored the bait. "There are going to be more coming within a few days. We need to make some decisions."

Maebh went to her pack, pulled out a hairbrush, and began to attack her tresses with determination. "Decisions like what? Are we going to make them camp out in the courtyard or shall we allow them to sleep inside?"

Loghain set a bowl of porridge in front of her and put the kettle on the fire. "Eat. You need your wits about you." He began to pace. "What about Avernus?"

Maebh set down her hairbrush and picked up a spoon. "What about him," she asked, her mouth full of porridge. "Ouch!" She covered her mouth with her hand and blew steam out. "That's hot. Anyway, why do we need to say anything? He's just an old mage in the tower."

"As far as they are aware, we are the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden." He rubbed his chin. "And Avernus isn't exactly the most rational individual."

Maebh blew on her spoonful of porridge in an effort to cool it further before eating more. "Well, maybe I could just forbid them from going in that tower. I could tell them it's collapsing or something." She swallowed. "I mean, they have to listen to me, don't they? I am the commander, after all."

Loghain turned and looked at her with one of those looks. And Maebh was suddenly, intensely aware of her tangled hair, filthy face, wrinkled robes, the porridge on her chin and the fact that she was swinging her legs as she ate, limbs too short to reach the ground while sitting on the bench. She looked down. "I'll get cleaned up and change before I go talk to him."

Freshly scrubbed, brushed, and in clean robes, Maebh carefully made her way back down to the courtyard, carrying a plate of bread and cheese and a steaming mug of tea.

"I'm sorry about that. You just... took us off-guard, I guess. We aren't accustomed to visitors. But, no hard feelings. Are you hungry?"

He accepted the mug and Maebh set the plate on a stone railing. "You are too kind. My thanks." He sipped the tea and nodded appreciatively. "As I said, I am here to help. Now, what shall you have me do?"

"Well, uh," Maebh was sure she could feel Loghain watching from the kitchen window, his angry gaze burning her scalp. "Have you... I mean... does your horse need anything?"

He turned and whistled. The animal came trotting over to him. Maebh fought the tidal wave of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm her. The horse was magnificent. Earlier, she had thought it's coat was black but in the morning sunlight, she realized it was actually a deep, glossy charcoal. It pranced spiritedly, hooves dainty, eyes bright, black mane and tail tossing in the breeze. Renaud murmured to the creature in Orlesian and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of oats. He turned back to Maebh. "Would you like to…" Eyes twinkling, he quirked his head to the horse.

She took a cautious step forward, keenly aware of the size and power of the alien thing. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, I don't really know how."

He waved his hand dismissively and set the mug next to the plate. "Bah, no troubles. It is easy!" He took one of her hands in his empty one and poured the oats into her palm. "Now, you must be cautious. If you curl your fingers, she may, how do you say, chomp?"

Maebh's eyes widened. "Oh, no, I can't..."

"Nonsense!" He smiled again and winked. Maebh was briefly distracted from her terror. "Here, like this," and he smoothed her fingers with one hand while gently taking hold of her wrist with the other. "Now, just keep them like so, and Citrouille will be very pleased with you."

"Cit-- Oh is that his name?"

He laughed. "Her name, but oui. Oh, I beg your pardon, yes."

She blushed slightly. "You don't have to apologize to me," she lifted her hand to the horse's lips. The animal nickered as it delicately lipped the oats from her palm. "Oh!" Maebh gasped at the sensation. "It feels like … like velvet!"

He nodded, smiling, and stroked Citrouille's neck. "She has a very delicate mouth, you know? A good girl."

"Um, if you say so, I guess." Maebh cleared her throat. "So... about him," she glanced back up at the Keep, and pulled her hand out of Renaud's. "You do know who he is, right?'

His happy expression finally failed, and he sighed. "Oui. I had hoped to make a good impression. Perhaps I let my excitement get the better of me, no?"

Maebh's shoulders slumped. "I don't know if there's any way you could have avoided that. At least it was just you and not everybody at once. Maybe I can talk him down before the rest get here." She started to wipe her hand on her robes.

"Ah! Allow me," Renaud took out a handkerchief and wiped her hand.

"Yes, uh, thank you." Again, Maebh pulled away and glanced up at the Keep. She held her hands behind her back. "At any rate, what would be helpful is if you were to come inside after you have your... Citronelle quite situated. We have some undead corpses to dispose of, and also a lot of dusting to do."

"Citrouille," he corrected gently. "I do not mind, of course," he joked, placing a hand flat against his chest. "But her? She's very sensitive, you know. A high-spirited lady." His eyes twinkled again, good spirits returned.

"Of course," Maebh smiled weakly. "He's not a bad man, really, once you get to know him. But, well," she shrugged, "I'm afraid it's quite possible he just won't let you and yours get to know him. I'm hoping I can keep everybody cordial, at least." She turned to go. "If you have anything to say, or a question or anything, just come to me. It'll be easier that way. I hope."