Confessions of a Guilty Writer

I confess!  (Hence, the post’s title….)  😉

I had fun earlier.  Lots of fun.  Much too much fun.

I just did it again.

Yes, you heard right.  I just wrote another all-dialogue scene, from another idea kicking around in the back of my head.

You should try it sometime.  It’s really fun.  Seriously.


“What happened?!”

“Leave me alone.”

“There’s a burned-out area where there used to be a village and forest!  Rindelin, you need to tell me-”

“I said, leave me be!

“There’s no call to flame at me!”

“Stop sticking your snout where it wasn’t wanted, then.”

“As a member of the dragon council, Rindelin, I must know-”

“There was a fire, all right?  I lost control and started a forest fire!  Now you can go report to all your dragon authorities that there’s one fewer dragon-mage to babysit!”

“What are you talking about?  We wouldn’t – it was an accident, right?”

“I wouldn’t do something like that on purpose!  What kind of person do you take me for?”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything; it was an accident – the dragon council wouldn’t punish you for that.”

“Thank you, but no thank you.  I’m done with dragons.  I’m done with magic.”

“What do you mean?  A little more practice, and -”

“Drin, you don’t understand.  I just burned down a village. My mistake nearly cost my people their lives! I can’t keep doing this – and I won’t risk hurting my people again.  They rely on me – I can’t betray their trust like that!”

“I do understand, though – look at me, Rindelin!  You can protect them better if you learn to use your abilities as a dragon!  Don’t turn your back on this!”

“You – you’re a dragon-mage, Drin.  That means you’re human.”

“I was human once, yes.”

“Then you’ll understand why I can’t. This shape – it’s not right for me.  You’re used to it.  You’ve been a dragon for a long time.”

“Centuries.”

“Exactly.  You’ve learned to control it.  I’ve had a year.  Less.  And with Gavin gone to Jonora, I need to learn to be king.  Father wants to abdicate soon, and I’ve lots to learn before he does.  I can’t keep a solid foot in the human world and the dragon world, both.  I’m too close to people to practice being a dragon, and I can’t govern my people from your caves.  If I could, things might be different.  But mistakes….  Mistakes like earlier today can take lives.  I can’t – I just can’t. Don’t ask me to.”

“What of Crystal?  She works magic.  Are you going insist that she abstain from it as well?”

“What?  No – no, of course not.  Magic is – it’s her life.”

“But you aren’t going to share that part of her life with her?  You’re going to shut down that aspect of yourself?”

“I have to.  Frankly, I thought you’d be a little more pleased about this.  You don’t have to babysit me anymore.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I might not like the way dragons communicate telepathically, but I can sense lies.  Every time I’ve become a dragon, you’ve been close by.  You couldn’t have enjoyed following me everywhere.”

“You flatter yourself.  My mental reach is strong – I can feel from miles away when you become a dragon.  I don’t have to follow you.  Besides, I’ve enjoyed helping you.”

“The way an adult would enjoy helping an infant toddle across a room?  Again – thanks, but no.”

“Then find someone else.  The dragons need to reconnect with humans.  They’re peaceful creatures – we don’t fight unless provoked.  We don’t want this endless fighting with humans.”

“And force someone to endure the same mistakes I’ve made?  Force someone else to deal with mankind’s enmity with dragons?  Those villagers saw me.  They didn’t see their Crown Prince, their future king; no, they saw a dragon setting fire to those trees back there.  You want me to put that upon someone else?  Or to give them the power to initiate another Andruin War, intense fighting between dragons and humans until time dulls the humans’ memories and pain?  You ask too much.  The dragons want too much.  You do it, if you want it so terribly.”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I would if I could, but I am even more limited than you.  Have you any record of Aedrin the First’s age when all record of his life ceased?”

“I don’t remember, exactly.  He was in his fifties, as I recalled.  But what has that… to do… with… you….?”

“Yes, Rindelin.  He was in his fifties.  I am not young for a dragon, and I am an even older human.”

“Drin?  Ae-drin?  But – you – he -”

“I’ve been around a long time, young prince.  I saw dragons and humans reconciled once, and I’d like it a lot if I could see it again.  I’m not foolish enough to think that I can cause it directly.  Not this time.  They’d shoot me down as a dragon, and they’d ignore me as a crazy old man.  I need someone they can’t – or wouldn’t dare – ignore.  I need someone with connections to the royal family.”

“I’m sorry, but – no.  I can’t. Why won’t you listen? For the last time, I can’t do it myself, and I won’t force anybody else to.”

“Not even for the ultimate good of your kingdom?  Many lives might be spared if this senseless fighting would only cease!  Very well.  I won’t press you now.  You need time.  If you should ever need me – you have Gavin’s sword now?  Good.  Call on me.  If I’m not close enough to hear your call, word will come to me through other dragons.”

“If I’m ever desperate enough to ask a dragon’s aide, you may count on it.”

“Farewell, Rindelin of Aedrinaria.”

“Fair flight, Aedrin.”


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