Trem was a wizard, a master of the arcane. He chose the color green, a color of balance, nature, and order. His best friend was Cedric, a red wyrm/dragon hybrid. Those things were normal for their time and place. What made the duo interesting, besides their friendship, was that Trem was an aspiring writer, and Cedric a scholar of the English and letters of his time. Cedric was Trem’s roommate, but also editor. Trem’s editor was a dragon. Not figuratively, but literally.

They had come a long way. From dealing with the imp Fen’gal, the dreaded writer’s block, to bad blood with the conjurer Lylkan and Braun, Cedric’s frenemy. They persisted. No quester came to bother Trem, for Cedric kept them all away. No one hunted Cedric because of Trem’s magic. Cedric was respected by the other dragons, or at least tolerated as a result.

Their days went something like this.

Trem typed merrily away on his typewriter. Cedric had finished the latest revisions, and went back to napping. Trem gave the writer’s block on his desk a glance. It was about the size of a mug of tea, which caused him to relax.

Cedric gradually awoke.

“It’s coming together Trem. Worry more about writing than having something to publish. Who would read it in your age? Write for the future, because you enjoy it. If you stop enjoying it, persist anyway. You didn’t always love magic, but you practice it as your career. You keep learning, keep training, researching, casting,” said Cedric.

“I’m glad you have faith in me Cedric. I’m starting to, as well. Gotta dig till I get to the treasure, right? Still, maybe we should survey our territory? I’ve written my goal today,” said Trem.

Cedric snorted affirmative. They left the cottage and Trem stood between the spines on Cedric’s neck, as Cedric's head drooped like most wyrms. They crossed the Azure Sands, the Crimson Forest, the Emerald Sea. Trem had hoped he would find Brothers, other skilled wizards who would contribute to his Collection of Tomes, and be neighbors to his territories. It was a sadness that he did not find such peers. Cedric courted the love of a dragoness named Stella, but although she did not like Braun, she didn’t see Cedric as a potential love, but only as an acquaintance. This also was a source of sadness to Cedric, but neither of them focused much on what they didn’t have, focusing on the good things they did have: home, food, and in Trem’s case, clothing. With these they could be content, and indeed, they had much more. A modest hoard of treasure, a wealth of magical and literary knowledge, and each other.

“I wonder what I would look like as a dragon,” said Trem one day.

“You mean, drake, worm, great dragon? Can your magic do that?” asked Cedric in disbelief.

“It should be able to, but I have to make the ritual temporary, or I won’t be able to write,” said Trem.

“This might change what we think of each other. You’re not thinking of turning me into a human, are you?” asked Cedric.

“No, Cedric, I was just wondering if I could turn into a dragon,” said Trem.

“Try it, man. You might find you like it better, and a dragon that can use magic would be.. quite a force indeed,” Cedric said. He did not add that Trem might not need him anymore, but encouraged his friend.

Cedric razed a circle out in his yard, tossed three sticks of sorcerer’s chalk, and the chalk drew up the sigils he would need. Trem was very quick with rituals. What took wizards hours and days, took Trem minutes up to an hour or so, except for the exceptional Workings. He quickly transformed himself into a dragon.

He clumsily ran to a nearby stream. He was mostly drake, with a bit of great dragon. Not quite as big as Cedric, average size ears, and when he roared, it was about as high pitched as his friend.

He gave Cedric a toothy grin, and then stepped into the circle facing the opposite direction, and changed back.

“Ye were a fine dragon, Trem,” said Cedric a little wistfully.

“Thanks, Cedric, but you’re a much better dragon than I. I may have had the looks, but I had no knowledge, no instinct,” said Trem.

Cedric smiled slightly and snorted affirmative again.

Trem scrubbed the chalk from the circle, and he and Cedric went into the cottage. It was suppertime, and then, perhaps a little exercise, as one must occasionally turn away from letters to be wise.