(February 28, 2025)
We can only do so much in a day, Fellowship reminded himself as he stared at the to-do list still to be done.
Which was most of it. But wow, it had been a day. From the moment he’d sat down at his desk, there had been phone calls and meetings and demands and complaints, and now, three minutes to the end of his day, he finally had a moment to breath and assess all the things he hadn’t had time to touch.
Too many. Who would feed the dragon if he didn’t assign someone to do it?
(March 28, 2025)
He looked through the staff list, hoping with everything he had that someone would still be around. But nope, John was the last person in today, and he’d clocked out fifteen minutes ago.
Uuuuuuuugh.
Fellowship banged his head against the table, then shoved away from the desk and trudged towards the steep, stone staircase.
He hated feeding the dragon. It stank of sulphur and always looked at Fellowship like he was mud under his claw. And the stairs were steep. But if the dragon wasn’t fed, he would get grumpy, and no one wanted to deal with the grumpy dragon.
(March 31, 2025)
As Fellowship descended towards the basement, the temperature rose, the air growing clammy, almost steamy. By the time he reached the bottom, a film of sweat coated his brow, and it had nothing to do with the sheer number of stairs.
“You awake Mistrak?” he called down the darkened corridor. It was always wise to give the dragon forewarning. More than one employee had been incinerated after startling him out of a deep sleep.
“Awake and hungry, human. Why are you late?”
“How’s that for gratitude?” Fellowship mumbled from under his breath. Louder, he said, “Staffing issues. But I’m here now, so how about—”
His words fell silent when he reached the dragon’s lair and found the great beast… had shrunk.
(April 29, 2025)
“Mistrak, what happened?” Fellowship asked.
The dragon flicked out its forked tongue. “What happened is you missed my mealtime. You should be grateful I don’t eat you instead.”
Fellowship crossed his arms. “I would like to see you try. I could boot you across the room.”
Mistrak peeled its scaled lips back in a snarl. “You dare speak to me with such disrespect? I swear I’ll—Wait. You do seem to have grown rather tall.”
“I’m not tall, Mistrak. You’re small. You shrank. What happened? Was someone else down here?”
The dragon said he hadn’t eaten, so it couldn’t have been so kind of potion, but maybe a spell gone wrong?
“No one has been down here all day, human. It’s insufferable. The boredom is a problem.”
Fellowship frowned and looked around. Obviously something had to have caused this. As he scanned the enclosure, he noted a faint purple mist wafting towards him. “What is that?”
Mistrak turned as the mist reached them. “That. I have no idea. I noticed it earlier.”
It smelled faintly of seawater. And mint?
Fellowship sniffed, trying to place that second smell… and suddenly the world grew a little larger.
“What—what—No!”
Fellowship cursed as he realized what had happened. The mist. It had to be the mist. Which meant…
Well, it meant he was once again smaller than the dragon. A hungry dragon. A hungry, angry dragon.
Fellowship gulped and looked up at Mistrak. The dragon stared down at him.
“Worry not, tiny human, I will not eat you. Yet. First you will try to bring us back to size. If you fail, I will reassess how hungry I am.”
“Right.” No pressure whatsoever.
(May 29, 2025)
“So, tiny human, where do we start?” Mistrak asked.
“First off, my name is Fellowship,” Fellowship said. “Not tiny human. If we’re to work together, I’d appreciate not being reminded that you consider me food every step of the way.”
He knew he was taking a risk angering the already angry dragon, but he felt it needed to be said.
Mistrak blinked his large golden eyes at him. “Very well. What is our next step?”
Fellowship watched the way the mist floated over their heads. “First, we follow that mist.”
The dragon blinked again. “So be it. Climb on.”
It was Fellowship’s turn to stare. “Excuse me? You want me… on your back?”
The look Mistrak gave him could only be described as contemptuous. “Do you believe you walk to the source? We’re dealing with air. We fly.”
(June 30, 2025)
Fellowship gripped the rough scales on the back of Mistrak’s neck and squeezed his eyes shut as the great (small) dragon beat its massive (usually) wings and lifted off the ground. Smoke oozed out of the Mistrak’s nostrils and blew back into Fellowship’s face, the reek of sulphur making him wrinkle his nose.
But the discomfort was nothing compared to the realization that he was flying. On the back of a dragon. The world grew small beneath him, and his heart thudded in his chest, exhilaration driving his pulse and making him want to throw his arms up in the air with a “Whoop!”
Only the belief that Mistrak would look down on him even more than the dragon already did kept his mouth shut.
“There,” Mistrak said. “The mist is coming from that hole in the wall.”
“All right,” Fellowship replied. “Let’s go check it out.”
(July 28, 2025)
Mistrak swooped through the air and approached the vent in the wall. If they had been at full size, they never would have fit. Fellowship might have been able to slide an arm into the gap, but Mistrak couldn’t have fit a claw through. He never thought he’d feel lucky to be the size of a mouse, but fate liked to play its games.
They landed on the edge of the vent, and Fellowship slid off Mistrak’s back. The smell of mint was stronger here. This was definitely the source of whatever this gas was.
But what was its purpose?
Fellowship took a few steps in when the sound of scurrying feet ran towards him, making him retreat.
“Watch out!” a voice cried, but they had no time to stop and Fellowship no time to move before the stranger crashed into him, taking him over the edge of the vent and into the air.