And, eventually, the journey ends; her father is an elderly, ill knight with very poor lands to offer for a dowry, and he accepts Agravain's proposal immediately. Rather than waiting to ride back to Camelot, he even offers to host the wedding at his small estate, and calls in a priest.
It happens quickly enough. Agravain borrows some of her father's clothes since none of his are suitable for such an occasion, and her father plies him with ale ahead of time, as if he were afraid Agravain needed the liquid courage to get through the ceremony. The priest is brief and to the point, concluding early so he can make the ride back to his church before it gets dark. The feast is less brief, although equally last-minute and threadbare, but there's more ale and Agravain's dog gets free roam through the hall. He's more than pleased.
Laurel's father, almost to Agravain's surprise, gives his consent for the marriage. Agravain himself has been pursuing this whole business doggedly for the last two weeks, earnestly and gruffly; he isn't a man for endearments or compliments, but these outdoor convoys are the closest thing to freedom he gets while in the society of others, and that keeps his temper easy during the journey. Laurel likes riding and hawking and the dog he insisted on bringing with him, she knows how to rub down a horse, and she wears plain clothes and isn't too pretty, so he doesn't have to worry about her getting offers or attention from other men, she's likely to accept him even if he is homely and blunt. As far as he's concerned now, she'll make a perfectly good wife. More to the point, since she hardly lets him kiss her now, he's learning a kind of anticipation for the wedding night.