(Untitled)

[vestalstone]

That the sky was clouded was the first thing Pierrette noticed that morning, the day cool and listless compared to some of the scorching days past. She spent her morning and afternoon daydreaming of a summer rain, delighting in the fantasy of dewy grasses and wet earth. She would find herself wandering out towards the beaches and hills to look out

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[somanytitles]

The girl up in the tree was an odd sight indeed. Climbing trees was not a foreign concept to Aragorn, indeed it was a both useful and enjoyable activity. Girl's whispering to fabric up in trees though, was rather odd.

"You have done quite an exceptional job getting up into the tree," Aragorn said, moving toward the base of the tree.

[vestalstone]

Had Pierrette been keen to look she would have found that on any day but this she would have been intimidated by such a man. Taller than Jerome's men and younger than many of them, but even compared to seasoned knights he would have been one to inspire much contemplation. Men of great stature and stance were a far more commonplace happening than they had once been in the past, but even as Piers she had put as much distance between herself and such men as she could.

As it was she barely glanced his way, shimming her way over branches that tugged and caught the soft linen of her skirt.

"There is only one exceptional thing in this place," she disagreed, her pace frantic. "And that is such cruel sorcery."

[somanytitles]

"Is that a dress?" Aragorn asked. It was a lot of fabric, but fine material and cut and bunched in ways that no bolt of fabric would be. He wondered if it had perhaps blown up into the tree and she had chased after it.

"And indeed the island can be cruel many times. I do not know if it has anything like a mind, but if it does it is not a pleasant one. Do you need help?"

[vestalstone]

"It is a token of such an evil I can not speak," she denied, feet scraping against the rough bark. Her fingers and toes were scratched, her skin rubbed with dirt and flaking lichen. "One of which holds no place here. I was a fool to believe I would ever be free of it." She had burned the wretched thing. With the priest Otho and her father ushered away she had peeled it from her unflinching sister, seen the bruises on her hips and the blood on her thighs. She had bundled the mess and thrown it into the cooking pit, and let the flames scorch the fine lace brown.

Such sorcery was evil, and even her inquisitive nature found no joy in it.

[somanytitles]

"The island takes away the power of many things," Aragorn said. He wasn't sure if she meant it was literally, a think of evil in the same manner of the ring, or if it was representative of something.

"Perhaps we can find some way to dispose of the garment and reduce its ability to be such a token. It may not entirely dispel what evil gives it such power, but it may be that it will be greatly reduced."

[vestalstone]

"It should burn," Pierrette said with a voice harsh and rich, rife with strength and bitterness. "It has been burned before, but this time I shall not see it returned." She would summon whatever power she could as a sorceress to see to it. It may be said there was no power to be held on this land, but if the powers of the island could perform such masterful things and conjure items of joy and heartbreak, then she could only determine to try.

She would leave no trace of it to be found again by anyone. Lest of all dearest Marie, should she ever awaken and find herself on the blank slate.

[somanytitles]

"There is a furnace at the forge that would be suited to such a purpose," Aragorn suggested. It might be a bit overkill but it would certainly be thorough, which might be cathartic.

"Or if you wish, it would be no problem to build a fire nearby. I do not mean to intrude on what is obviously a personal time, but sometimes such things can be made easier with help."

[vestalstone]

The thought of a forge reminded her of simple Bertrand, Marie's hopeful groom. He had been a dolt and little to look at, and though she would never understand why Marie had been so delighted by his courtship, she found herself mourning the annulled marriage. Bertrand had been in his right to leave a broken bride behind him, but Pierrette wondered what Marie's life with him could have been like.

"Either are suitable." She announced, struggling up a few more branches before she met her target. She was reminded of laundry hung to dry, and now that she was so close she could the how soiled it truly was. It was still lovely, but not as innocent as it had seemed from the ground. "I thank you, sir. If it is not too much to ask, I would appreciate your help." She looked down to him, standing straight and tall. "If you truly will not mind it."

[somanytitles]

"You are truly welcome, and it is no trouble at all," Aragorn said, nodding his head at the girl. She was precariously high, but so sure footed and steady that Aragorn didn't have any fear that she might fall.

"I am Aragorn, by the way," he added. "And while these are not the best circumstances to meet, I am glad to have your acquaintance."

[vestalstone]

"Aragorn." It was an odd name, but no odder than Anselm. If anything at all, Pierrette felt a strange sort of comfort from the oddity of it, when so many names in this place were dull and simple. She nodded to him then, satisfied by their new found acquaintance. "You are a fine man, I am pleased to have met you."

Her dirty fingertips left smudges across the soft lace, and Pierrette's lips thinned as she remembered slipping the gown on, twirling around in dangerous confidence behind closed doors. She had still been Piers then, and how scandalized anyone would have been to come and see a small 'boy' dancing in his sister's wedding gown.

Exhaling slowly she wrapped the garment around her forearm and slung her leg over the branch, sitting as though she were side saddle. Slowly and carefully she began her descent.

[somanytitles]

Aragorn held out a hand to help her down once she got close enough. She seemed capable enough herself but he wanted offer her the help if she needed it. Whatever this dress really was, it had shaken her quite a bit and he didn't want her to accidentally slip and fall.

"And what might your name be?" he asked. Even if he hadn't met many people on the island, he had at least caught the names of several, but not this girl.

[vestalstone]

Normally Pierrette would have hesitated at a hand offered by such a man, but she was tired and her goal was still a while from being met. Nodding simply she slipped her palm into his, the sudden grounding it gave leaving her startled. Her hand felt incredibly small in comparison, and she was reminded of being a small child, walking hand in hand with Marie or her father.

"Pierrette," she told him, her tone lilting. "Of Citharista." She had learned by now that no one knew the fishing village in this place, but it was courteous and a habit she found difficult to break. "I doubt you know of it though, I am afraid." She surveyed him carefully now that she was so close, and found her head tilting.

[somanytitles]

"I have not heard of it either," Aragorn admitted, wishing that he had. He knew what it was like to have no one recognize where you were from. Not until Bilbo came had anyone here been from his world. He was not one to generally get melancholy or lonely, but it could get difficult all the same.

"Though I know how difficult it can be to have no one familiar with the place you are from."