Guardians of the West

you doing down here in Mimbre?"
    "Me? Well -Mandorallen is my friend, Garion."
    "Did he ask for your help?"
    "Well- "
    "I didn't think so. You just took it on yourself." He then included Lelldorin in his commentary, gesturing often with the burning sword in his right hand. The three watched that sword with a certain wide-eyed anxiety as he waved it in their faces.
    "Very well, then," Garion said after he had cleared the air, "this is what we're going to do." He looked belligerently at Sir Embrig. "Do you want to fight me?" he challenged, thrusting out his jaw pugnaciously.
    Sir Embrig's face went a pasty white, and his eyes started from his head. "Me, your Majesty?" he gasped. "Thou wouldst have me take the field against the Godslayer?" He began to tremble violently.
    "I didn't think so." Garion grunted. "Since that's the case, you'll immediately relinquish all claim of authority over the Baroness Nerina to me."
    "Most gladly, your Majesty." Embrig's words tumbled over themselves as they came out.
    "Mandorallen," Garion said, "do you want to fight me?"
    "Thou art my friend, Garion," Mandorallen protested. "I would die before I raised my hand against thee."
    "Good. Then you will turn all territorial claims on behalf of the baroness over to me -at once. I am her protector now."
    "I agree to this," Mandorallen replied gravely.
    "Sir Embrig," Garion said then, "I bestow upon you the entirety of the Barony of Vo Ebor -including those lands which would normally go to Nerina. Will you accept them?"
    "I will, your Majesty."
    "Sir Mandorallen, I offer you the hand in marriage of my ward, Nerina of Vo Ebor. Will you accept her?"
    "With all my heart, my Lord," Mandorallen choked, with tears coming to his eyes.
    "Splendid," Lelldorin said admiringly.
    "Shut up, Lelldorin," Garion told him. "That's it, then, gentlemen. Your war is over. Pack up your armies and go home -and if this breaks out again, I'll come back. The next time I have to come down here, I'm going to be very angry. Do we all understand each other?"
    Mutely they nodded.
    That ended the war.
    The Baroness Nerina, however, raised certain strenuous objections when she was informed of Garion's decisions upon the return of Mandorallen's army to Vo Mandor. "Am I some common serf girl to be bestowed upon any man who pleases my lord?" she demanded with a fine air of high drama.
    "Are you questioning my authority as your guardian?" Garion asked her directly.
    "Nay, my Lord. Sir Embrig hath consented to this. Thou art my guardian now. I must do as thou commandest me."
    "Do you love Mandorallen?"
    She looked quickly at the great knight and then blushed.
    "Answer me!"
    "I do, my Lord," she confessed in a small voice.
    "What's the problem then? You've loved him for years, but when I order you to marry him, you object."
    "My Lord," she replied stimy, "there are certain proprieties to be observed. A lady may not be so churlishly disposed of. " And with that she turned her back and stormed away.
    Mandorallen groaned, and a sob escaped him.
    "What is it now?" Garion demanded.
    "My Nerina and I will never be wed, I fear," Mandorallen declared brokenly.
    "Nonsense. Lelldorin, do you understand what this is all about?"
    Lelldorin frowned. "I think so, Garion. There are a whole series of rather delicate negotiations and formalities that you're leaping over here. There's the question of the dowry, the formal, written consent of the guardian -that's you, of course- and probably most important, there has to be a formal proposal -with witnesses."
    "She's refusing over technicalities?" Garion asked incredulously.
    "Technicalities are very important to a woman, Garion."
    Garion sighed with resignation. This was going to take longer than he had thought. "Come with me," he told them.
    Nerina had locked her door and refused to answer Garion's polite knock. Finally he looked at the stout oak planks barring his way. "Burst!" he said, and the door blew inward, showering the startled lady seated on the bed with splinters.
    "Now." Garion said, stepping over the wreckage, "let's get down to business. How big a dowry do we think would be appropriate?"
    Mandorallen was willing -more than willing- to accept some mere token, but Nerina stubbornly insisted upon something significant. Wincing slightly, Garion made an offer acceptable to the lady. He then called for pen and ink and scribbled -with Lelldorin's aid- a suitable document of consent. "Very well," he said then to Mandorallen, "ask her."
    " Such