All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

29-05-01: Bald
It is a skipping figure that enters the barracks, pausing every so often to attempt to stand upon her toes...

It is a skipping figure that enters the barracks, pausing every so often to attempt to stand upon her toes in a somewhat wavering form--as if attempting to dance. Hanneke spins in an attempted pirouette, nearly twisting her ankle in the process, landing upon her own cot with a triumphant, but exhausted, yelp. She straightens, smoothing down her glossy hair, then her clothes, as she beams about the room, calling, rather loudly, as if to spite the late hour, "Did you see! Don't I dance well?"

Zureile lifts her head from wear it was buried in the pillow on her cot, and stares at Hanneke through red, puffy eyes. The light from the glows reflects off her her scalp, and fresh tears pour from her eyes as she stares at Hanneke's gleaming hair. Dancing? How could Hanneke think of dancing while the world was falling apart? Still, she does her best not to take her mood out on her friend. "Sure," she says glumly. "You dance great."

If Hanneke notices Zureile's tears, she makes no mention of it, smoothing her hair once more as, in absolute horror, she states, "Zureile! Your hair is worse than I heard!" Such charm, such tact, such cool. She straightens further, staring in abject horror. "Oh, that's horrible! How will you survive, without hair? No one will ever love you again!"

Zureile promptly bursts into fresh tears at Hanneke's words, her hands rising up to cover her scalp protectively. "I kn-o-o-oow," she sobs. "I'm so u-uh-uhgly. All the dragonets are going to run away fro-om me on the s-a-ands," she bawls. Struggling to maintain a bit of composure, she furiously swipes at the tears coursing down her face with the back of her hand. Wait a second... worse than she /heard/? "What do you mean worse than you heard? You mean people are talking about it?" she hiccups out.

Hanneke, if she had any sense at all, would probably stop now, before she's not just behind, she's in negative position. "Yes!" She wails, as if absolutely distraught herself, covering her eyes. "It's horrible! I can't believe it happened. Oh, Zureile, do you think it's possible to make a wig?" She pauses, hands sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving her eyes uncovered. Gossip. "Oh, yes, of course they are! What kind of person shaves off their head, anyway? I mean--oops."

"It's not *hic* that bad!" Zureile manages to snap out defensively between hiccups. Great. Now, on top of everything, she's got a bad case of the hiccups. "Besides, Denari said *hic* it made my eyes *hic* look larger," she says, a note of desperate hope tinging her voice. "And they shouldn't (hic) talk, because *hic* it isn't any of there busin*hiccup*ess." She subsides into relative silence, the hiccups continuing to spasm her body as she glares at Hanneke. It wasn't that bad. Really, it wasn't. People cut there hair everyday. She just happened to shave hers.

Hanneke raises one carefully sculptured eyebrow, staring obliquely at Zureile's gleaming head. "Isn't it?" She asks, dubious, evidently not of that particular train of thought. Hair is the most important thing of all, as far as she's concerned. "Does it?" She adds, raising the other eyebrow. She pauses. "Oh, but it's *good*, that people know who you are now! The bald one, so you're Zureile! Isn't that better than nothing?"

Zureile, if it is at all possible, increases the intensity of her glare at Hanneke. "No, it isn't better. It's not better at all that way. In fact," she spits out, "It makes me feel worse! How would you like to be known as Hanneke, the bald candidate?" She folds her arms in front of her, twisting so her feet dangle over the edge of the cot.

"It's not true! I'm not going bald, I'm not, I'm not!" Hanneke's hands move towards her head, holding tight to her carefully arranged coif, as if it is about to be pulled out, taken away. "Klari said it was just a few hairs coming out, and that it happened to everyone. I'm not really going bald, am I?" She blinks back tears, the serious nature of the topic drawing a feel deep breaths. "What are we going to do, Zureile? They'll all hate us!"

Zureile suddenly, miraculously, begins to feel much better. Misery loves company, or something like that. Actually, it's more along the lines that she has suddenly found a way to make someone as miserable as she is, and the prospect brightens her outlook on life considerably. "Are you sure? Because I never lost much hair when I had some. So if you're losing hair, then there's a distinct possibility you might be bald one day.. actually one day very soon." Zureile's voice has taken on an uncharaticaristically nasty tone. Hey, blame it on Kr'lin. Blame it on her baldness. Blame it on anything you'd like, but she's deriving distinct pleasure from torturing Hanneke.

How very cruel. Hanneke's face brightens a moment, then falls entirely, and tears begin to trek down her face, marking her dimples -- which somehow remain in place, even as she lacks a smile -- as they slide towards her slightly opened mouth. "Oh! Is there a way to stop it? Oh, Zureile, what will I do?" She moves closer towards the other girl, grasping for the edge of a cot. Nastiness tends to go right over Hanneke's head; oblivious as she is, to all but her own problems. "At least there are two of us," she manages to all but whisper.

Yes, very cruel. And Zureile's doesn't seem to be letting up at all. "No, I don't think that there's any way to stop it. Why do you think you see all those bald, older riders? You don't honestly believe they're bald because they /want/ to be bald, do you?" Zureile begins to swing her feet back and forth over the edge of her cot. One-two. One-two. If she had dimples, they'd definitely be showing, though she is careful to keep an outright smile off of her face. Wow, who would have ever thought that being mean could be so much fun? Amazing! And along with her bad mood, her hiccups seem to have dissappeared. Wow, twice the reward! "Actually, there won't be two of us for long," she informs Hanneke, a note of cheerfullness creeping into her voice. "See, my hair was just cut. It'll grow back. If you go bald, you'll be bald for life."

Hanneke nods glumly, her hand slipping down the edge of the bed, falling to her side, where it hangs limply, the very life draining from her face. "Oh! It's so unfair--why was I gifted with such beautiful hair if it's just going to be taken away again?" Notably, she hasn't touched her hair since this amazing discovery, as if she fears touching it will make it's demise more rapid. She pauses, again, worrying her lip with two, creamy white teeth. "Oh. I don't want to go bald."

Zureile gestures to the cot cheerfully with one hand. "Sit down, Hanneke." Waiting for the girl to sit, the wheels in Zureile's brain begin to spin. Hmmm.... how to capitalize on this situation? Suddenly, her brain spits up an answer, and she nearly giggles aloud. It was all too simple. Much, much too simple. And beyond cruel. But Zureile quickly casts aside the plaguing doubts and leans forward conspiratorialy toward Hanneke. "Well.. actually...," she pretends to be torn between deciding, then continues. "You don't /have/ to be bald. My family has actually come up with a remedy for this mysterious hair-loss that plagues so many people. But most people don't want to go through with it, and sadly," Zureile lowers her eyes and shakes her head in sympathy for these unfortunate individuals, "they continue to lose their hair until they are completely bald." She raises her eyes to stare forcefully at Hanneke. "For the rest of their lives."

Hanneke hesitates visibly, as if wavering between two paths of thought, before she sinks with a modicum of grace upon the cot, eyes wide as she stares at Zureile, tears glistening at the very edges. "I don't? Oh! What is it, Zureile? What can I do? *Anything*!" The prospect of baldness is enough to outstave any nasty remedy--almost. Clasping her hands in her lap, she leans forward, anxious.

Zureile looks to either side, to make certain no one is listening. Not only to further the deception that the remedy is secret, but to make certain that there would be no witnesses. "Hanneke, I'm going to tell you the remedy, because you're my friend. But you must promise me... no, /swear/ to me that you won't tell another soul who you got it from. My family would never understand me giving away our secrets, even if they knew how close we were. If they found out..." she gives a theatrical shudder.

Hanneke echoes Zureile's movement, eyes drinking in sleeping bodies about the barracks, a certain relief becoming visible upon her features, although she continues to knaw upon the very edge of her lip. She returns her hopeful gaze to Zureile, nodding with as much seriousness as she can muster--for Hanneke, this is a lot. "I swear! I swear!"

Zureile leans even closer to Hanneke, dropping her voice to a whisper. "The reason your hair is falling out is because it is too heavy, and the pores on your head need a break. They keep holding the hair in until they can no longer stand it, and then they die. That's what makes the hair strand fall out. If it keeps on like this, the pores will continue to die, until it is too late to do anything. That is why the sooner you use the remedy, the more hair will you will have." Zureile's eyes are boring into Hanneke's trying to impress upon her the seriousness of her situation. "What you have to do is give the pores a break... a chance to revive themselves." She waits a moment, wondering if Hanneke was getting the jist of what she was implying. Hmm. Probably not. Better say it plainer. "Now if you want to only go half-bald, and save half of your hair, the thing you need to do is cut your hair, really short, /right now/. But if you are brave enough, and love your hair enough, then you will shave your head like mine, without waiting. That is the only way to ensure you will keep your hair."

Hanneke's lip wavers, and she nods her head slowly, up and down, more tears forming within her eyes. "Oh!" Her ravaged lip remains dry from blood as yet, although her incessant knawing may bring that to an end within moments. She raises one hand, wiping tears--a disaster beyond imagination has occured--and nods. "I can't!" she wails. "I can't just *shave* it off. That's horrible!" Better than it going forever, but Hanneke, in her wisdom, has yet to make that correlation.

But Zureile's happy to make that correlation for her. It's not really that she wants to hurt her friend, it's just that she can't bear the thought of spending the rest of the candidacy as the only bald candidate. "I know it's hard, Hanneke. But isn't having no hair for a while a little better than being bald for the rest... of.. your.. life?" Zureile puts extra emphasis on the last bit, hoping to dissuade her. "Think of it. You'll be sitting there, wherever you are, with an utterly bald, shining head... just /wishing/ that you had gone through with it now, that you had had the nerve to save your hair. But if you don't really mind being bald..." Zureile shrugs her shoulders, as if she didn't really care one way or the other.

"Can you..." Hanneke trails off, attempting, with slight success, to be strong. "Cut it to my shoulders?" She lifts a hand, wavering it perhaps a few inches below the shoulder. "And see if that works? Because it might, and then I'll be saved! I don't want to look bald and ugly and horrible and awful!"

Zureile nealry sighs. Well, if that's the /best/ she can do. At least Hanneke's shorter hair might draw a bit of the attention off of her. She nods with mock solemnity at the other candiate. "We can try that, but I really would recommend going all the way. But if that's all you think you can handle..." she trails off as she hops off her head, seaching under the cot of a nearby sleeping candidate. She spends a few moments on her knees, grunting softly as she stretches her arm to reach for something unseen. With a smile she locates it and stands up, her right hand brandishing a pair of sharp shears. "Okay, you might want to lay down across the cot, and flip your hair over the side of the bunk so it doesn't get on my sheets." Wow. Such caring sympathy. "Oh, and you'll want to let it down first. And don't forget," she says, eyeing Hanneke sharply, "You /swore/ you wouldn't let anyone know I was kind enough to let you in on our secret, so you'll have to come up with another reason you cut your hair."

Hanneke almost chokes on a sob, slowly pulling the pins out of her elaborate hairdo for the last time for at least a month or two--her hair, thankfully, grows fast, letting it drape down her back in dainty ringlets of a creamy, tawny hue. It *is* beautiful hair. She smoothes her hands through it once, then lets it fall, following Zureile's directions, her eyes shutting tightly. "What do I say? Why would I cut my hair--except for this?" Sob.

Zureile, unfortuantely for her, is beginning to feel guilty. Very guilty. She's just not one to do take pleasure in hurting someone. Maybe teasing them a bit, but truly hurting them? She begins to get a queasy, slightly uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Still, it only takes one brush of her hand against her prickly scalp to firm resolve. After all, it's not like she was going to get rid of /all/ of it. Just a snip, here and there, and Hanneke would have a new hairdo and she would (hopefully) become the talk of the weyr, instead of Zureile. "Just tell them that you were preparing yourself for future weyrlinghood. Tell them that it was too hot, and you had to cool yourself off. Tell them you were tired of the same old hairstyle, and wanted a change. I don't know, choose one. Now lie down."

"Oh! Of course! You know such a *lot*, Zureile. What would I do without you!" Be bald--well, maybe not. Hanneke follows directions, draping herself down along the edge of the cot, so that her hair falls over the side. "Don't make it too bad: it has to be *even*. And not too short! It won't be heavy, and my, er, whatever they are, will be fine!" Of course they will. Really.

Zureile kneels beside Hanneke's head, dutifully snipping away. Snip, snip, snip. A bit of here, a bit of there, cut a chunk off over there...Hmmm... it seems Zureile will never earn a living as a hairdresser. Still, she continues to hack away cheerfully at Hanneke's head, doing her best. Even? Hanneke will be lucky if it doesn't look like she was attacked by a flock of hungry moths. Oops. That was /definitely/ uneven. Zureile switches sides, trying to get a better angle on the uneven cut of hair, in order to even it out. Double oops. That didn't help at all. Now it was even more uneven. She squats down lower, trying to get an eye view of it. Cut, cut, cut... Major Oops. "Umm, Hanneke.. how long did you say you wanted it again?"

Hanneke keeps her eyes entirely shut during the process, covering her ears with her hands as best she can, although scissors make it difficult to do so comfortably. Zureile's statement has her jumping up, the remainder of her hair swinging about--well, not quite her shoulders. "What did you do? I said shoulder--shoulder!" It isn't shoulder.

Zureile pulls the snipping shears back hastily, narrowly missing jabbing Hanneke as the girl bounces up. "Careful, Hanneke. I almost cut you. You need to be still when someone's cutting your hair," Zureile chides, swinging her gaze up to look at Hanneke. Ooh, that was /definitely/ shorter than she intended to go. And still uneven. Quite uneven. "I tried to go shoulder, but your just wouldn't cooperate Hanneke." She tilts her head sideways, continuing to stare at her handiwork. "It's not that bad, really." Of course, this is the point of view of an artist lovingly staring at her handiwork.

Hanneke raises a hand to smooth her hair, tears welling up in her eyes again. "It's horrible! I hate you, Zureile. You're so mean, and cruel!" Uneven, yes. Slightly above the shoulder, yes. Well, once again, let all be thankful that Hanneke's hair grows *really* fast. "I don't want to see you ever again!" Bawling--imagine, *Hanneke*, bawling--she runs, pieces of hair falling down after her as she departs.