Most Bright by Lyra

Exit, Pursued

Annoyed by her suitors, Ancalimë needs Zamîn's help.

Written for several B2MeM 2019 prompts:
G48 - "Ancalimë, aided by the old woman Zamîn, went into hiding" (Tolkien Quotes), "Agitation - Lavender" (Apothecary Garden), "Generosity" (Emotions);
B 9 - "I won't let YOU define me." (Person vs. Self), "Haleth had been a renowned amazon with a picked bodyguard of women" (Tolkien Quotes)

Also a contribution for the "Hidden Figures" SWG challenge (Zamîn did not even have a tag before I posted this, that's how rare she is!)

Raised voices and the clatter of crockery breaking against a wall alerted Zamîn to her mistress' agitation. She rushed through the house and found Ancalimë pacing angrily in the vestibule, her hands clenched into fists. A formerly decorative vase had been tossed hard into a corner. From outside, Zamîn could hear the sound of hoofbeats on the stamped road, moving further away at a hasty pace. "Ah," she said dryly. "Another suitor?"

Princess Ancalimë raised her arms in exasperation. "The third this week! Won't these insufferable fools leave me alone? Why do they think I am out here, other than to finally have some peace and quiet? What makes them think I'm eager to transform any of them into the father of the next royal heir?" Her eyes roamed around the room, perhaps searching for something else that she could smash in her anger. Zamîn grimaced sympathetically while positioning herself in front of the water-bowl.
"I assume that they fancy themselves in love, and thus assume that you must likewise love them," Zamîn pointed out. "That, or they are desperate for advancement. Maybe both." She glanced at the ruined vase. "That was a pretty piece, though. Someone went a long way to acquire that."
"I wish he'd stayed there!" Ancalimë retorted. "I wish they'd all stay away, rather than seeing me as a ladder to their advancement! Is that all I am to them? A treasure to be won and put into their chest? A puppet they can control, a vessel for their seed? Well, I won't stand for it!"
Zamîn nodded sagely. "I know, my lady. Unfortunately, they do not. But I will inform the doorkeeper that no further suitors are to be admitted."
"She already knows," Ancalimë said. "I told her last week. But apparently, they won't listen to her - they simply push past her! Maybe we should give her a sword..."

The thought of Kâdaril, the elderly doorkeeper, swinging a sword at a pesky intruder, was as terrifying as it was funny. "I doubt they would respect Kâdaril better if she had a sword, unless she were to actually stick it into one of them, which I cannot imagine her doing even if it were within the law," Zamîn pointed out.
Ancalimë glowered, but she clearly knew that her motherly companion was right.
"Well, if any more of these idiots bother me, I'm going to smash their heads, not their gifts," she announced.
Even though Zamîn assumed that Ancalimë was indulging in hyperbole, she wasn't entirely certain that the Princess wouldn't act on her threat after all. "The King's heir cannot smash people's heads at will, no matter how much they may annoy you," she said sternly. "That will not do. No; we need a more threatening doorkeeper. Maybe we should accept your father's offer..."
Tar-Aldarion had generously offered Ancalimë the service of his elite guard when she had announced that she needed to recover from the strains of court life in the countryside, but Ancalimë, heeding her mother's advice concerning the untrustworthiness of men, had refused.

As she did now. "Out of the question! I will suffer no men in this house. My lord Father would probably have the nerve to sneak some suitors in here alongside the guards. I bet he encourages them. There will be no men in my mother's house!" Her fists had balled tightly again, and her face had taken on an unhealthy red hue.

Since she suspected that Ancalimë was correct, Zamîn could not well argue with that, and instead decided to soothe her lady's ruffled temper. "Well, then we shall think of something else," she decided pragmatically. "Now, why don't I draw you a nice calming bath, and then we can talk about what to do?"

Luxuriating in the house's large stone basin, Ancalimë indeed began to calm down. Probably, Zamîn reflected, she wouldn't even have needed to sacrifice a whole bundle of her precious dried lavender to infuse it in the bath; the hot water alone might have done the trick. Still, better to be safe than sorry.
"I should like to have a bodyguard," Ancalimë mused, "but no men! I cannot trust any of them. They will always see me as a means to an end. There are strong girls enough in these villages. We should train them to fight."
Even loyal Zamîn couldn't help raising her eyebrows, her brow creasing in doubt. "A bodyguard made up of girls, my lady?"
"Why not! Did not Haleth the Brave have a bodyguard of women? And are there not Haladin among our ancestors? If they could hold their own in the hostile lands of Beleriand, then certainly I can trust women to protect me in this realm of peace and idleness."
"You would have to train them first, though," Zâmin pointed out. "And what shall we do until then?"
Ancalimë heaved a sigh, then let herself sink into the water until she was wholly submerged. Zamîn waited. The Princess would need to breathe eventually.
And she did soon enough, blinking back water and pushing her braids out of her face.
"I wish I could simply hide away," she announced. "I thought this place would be safe enough, but there are too many who know Mother's house -- as we have seen!"
Zamîn chuckled at that. "That is the price of being princess. Nobody knows where my mother's little cottage is!" She had spoken lightly, but realised that Ancalimë was fixing her with an intense stare, and tilted her head in confusion. "What did I say, my lady?"
Ancalimë was smiling now, reaching out for Zâmin's hands with soapy fingers.
"Your mother's little cottage," she said. "Let us go there."