This took much longer to rewrite than I thought it would. As it turns out, working in the realm of a master of fantasy is very, very difficult. Who would have thought?

Ah, well; I've come out of this rewrite a better writer, and I've learned how NOT to start a Lord of the Rings story. But, sorry for those of you who do want to see more of this.

Without further adieu, my rewritten Last of the Wyrms.

The masterful works of Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and any other works set in the world of Arda (the world of which Middle-Earth is a part of) all belong to the Tolkien Estate. I am a simple fan with too much time on his hands.

The music blared at an almost painful level of noise; the subwoofers were shaking every room in the house with each deep, distorted change in bass.

Lights flashed with shades of blue, yellow, red, purple, and green mixing together in a vibrant display of color and energy.

People danced on the floor, jumping to the beat of the music—the house shook even more than the music itself. Girls wearing clothing that left little of their enticing bodies a mystery put everything they had into their movements, drawing the attention of any nearby guy who wasn't already dancing with a girl, and many who already were. Freshmen, both those who were invited guests and those who were party crashers, tried getting in the spotlight by pulling off their own unique dance moves. Few succeeded.

A ping-pong table to the left of the dance floor had been transformed, changing from the only place in the house to play table tennis—as those who take the game way too seriously loved to call it—to the designated area for party-goers to play beer pong.

Couples, most of which met tonight, took up almost every available couch or chair, either kissing, or attempting to suffocate one another—it was hard to tell which. Most would remain on their chosen chairs or couches for a few minutes, then quickly leave the room—likely to give in to whatever carnal desires they had. Some didn't even bother giving the mild decency of leaving the room, and tried staying right where they were. Those people were always kicked out of the house by security.

And my friends wonder why I hate frat parties.

I suppose their confusion was understandable, considering I chose to go to UIUC of all places. But it was the best place in the country for people who wanted to go into Information Science, so I enrolled immediately when they accepted my application.

A mistake on my part, but for a number of reasons.

One was that Information Science turned out to be very different than I was expecting, and changing to Materials Science or Architecture would end up costing me tens of thousands in the long run; another reason was location relating to my family; and the last was the culture of most of the campus.

The first two problems with my choice in college could be fixed, even though my bank account would hate me for life, but the atmosphere of an entire university couldn't. I had never felt… Welcome here, or even noticed by more than one or two people. Although, that last one could be because I'm one of the smaller guys around, at five foot four and one hundred twenty pounds.

Guess it was my own fault, choosing UIUC to follow in my dad's footsteps. Hard to do so when you're not interested in active partying, and you're a foot shorter than the man you're trying to follow.

Whatever song the DJ was playing ended and he started another one less than five seconds later. This one was louder and more fast-paced than the one before, prompting the dancers to cheer as their ear drums were even more damaged by the oversized speakers.

I will never understand partying.

Dennis, one of my few friends and only roommate, came off the dance floor and sat down in a chair across the table I was sitting at in the corner.

At more than seven feet tall and almost three hundred pounds, Dennis was a giant when around most, and even more so when he was around me. I didn't even know his major, because he kept changing it—and could actually afford to do so; rich parents, and all that. He also was a huge fan of parties, good times of almost any kind as long as they didn't cross the line, and women. But despite that, he wasn't someone who took relationships—or casual pleasure—lightly. Even with how he talked about women, I was one of the few who knew he hadn't been on a date in his life. I think he had a fear of messing up a relationship, and as a result was afraid of even the most casual one.

"Come on, Shawn!" Dennis shouted over the music. "Get out there!"

"Why?" I asked, not bothering to raise my voice since I knew he could read lips. "So I can embarrass myself some more?"

Dennis waved his waved dismissively. "Ah, you won't embarrass yourself. Just get out there and have fun!"

"What about last time I 'just went out there'?"

"You had a great time hanging out!"

"A group of guys hung me on a tree by my shirt."

"Details. Point is the chicks dug it!"

I rolled my eyes. "Den, they were laughing the entire time."

He smiled. "Yeah, but did you see how they looked?!"

"I did, along with half of campus. And the campus saw me, too."

Dennis shook his head and grabbed a beer on the end of the table, which had been left by another partier on his way out. He then downed it in one gulp, belched loud enough to be faintly heard over the booming music, then shook his head again, this time to recover from the rapid consumption of alcohol. "You can't let that get to you. It's part of college life."

"Of 'partying' life," I corrected.

Dennis narrowed his dark eyes at me, annoyance written on his face. "You know, if you don't change your stance on social events, you're never going to stop being the source of entertainment for everyone else."

"There's hardly anything social about parties." I looked at the dance floor as a drunk tried hitting on one of the girls, only to fall flat on his face, very obviously due to being way beyond the limit between buzzed and wasted. Security quickly closed in and tossed him out the door.

"Have you seen what's going on around you?! Two thirds of these guys are going to get lucky, or already are getting lucky!"

I raised an eyebrow. "We both know that doesn't motivate either of us."

My roommate's fake excited look slipped, but he replaced it instantly when one of his friends walked by with a beer in hand before heading over to the beer pong table with a girl on his arm. He hooted at him, then looked back at me. "But at least those guys are making contacts."

"And in the morning, probably about a tenth of them will have gotten someone pregnant, a fifth will be injured in some way, and all of them will wake up hungover with no knowledge of tonight. And to add to it, they'll wake up with a stranger beside them."

Dennis nodded. "Point taken."

"Thought it would be." I looked out on the dance floor again as the song being played ended, and was quickly replaced by another that sounded the same to my ears, yet made everyone cheer again. What was so thrilling about listening to the same song?

"But still, you've gotta try talking to other people at parties. It's the only way you'll start being respected by everyone around here!" He looked around at the crowd, smiled at someone out of my field of vision, then looked back at me and gestured in the direction he had been looking. "Go talk to Vanessa! She'll like you!"

I turned to look in the direction he was pointing, and saw a tall Sophomore with long black hair, standing in the corner with three other girls. "Wasn't she the one who took a picture of me hanging on the tree and posted it on Instagram?"

"Uh, maybe?" Dennis looked deep in thought, as if searching his brain. "Sometimes it's hard to keep so many names straight."

"Another reason to not like parties: You can't remember anyone's name."

My roommate made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I give up. Go ahead and hate parties. See if I care."

"I will. Thanks," I said, intentionally sounding oblivious to his sarcasm, then checked the clock on my phone—it was nearly midnight. "I'm going to head back, get some rest. I've been running on three hours of sleep as it is."

Dennis seemed to want to argue, but nodded. "Alright. Don't know what time I'll be back, but I shouldn't be more than a few hours."

"Stay out of trouble until then," I said, then got up from the table and walked to the house's front door, dodging passing partiers, couples, and security whenever they passed by, before finally reaching the door and stepping outside.

The beat of the music could still be both heard and felt from outside, but it was muffled and faint, and far more bearable than it had been while inside. The cold night air washed over me, canceling out the warmth from inside the house. A light shower of snow accompanied the cold air, but it was far from heavy, and there was only an inch or two on the ground itself—a lot less than the foot and a half the weather reported would be on the ground by now. Good. I hate snow. Or rather too much of it.

I zipped my hoodie up and stepped down onto the sidewalk, turning left to head to the apartment Dennis and I had just off campus. It was only a few blocks from here, but it was a cold night. Nothing compared to the height of the polar vortex, but still very cold even for Illinois. Still, I wasn't going to be out long, so I hadn't bothered bringing an actual coat to the party.

I walked through a crosswalk with barely a glance in either direction. Everyone was either asleep at this hour, or at a party similar to the one I just left. This meant the streets were as quiet and still as they would ever get, and that its only users would be drunks you'd hear from a mile off, or pedestrians heading home. Just like I was.

About fifteen minutes after I left the party, I reached the apartment complex where Dennis and I lived. Just in time, too; the cold was starting to get to me.

It took me another few minutes to reach my front door, since it was was on the second floor. I fished my keys out once I finally got there, unlocked and then opened the door.

I froze at the sight that greeted me.

Instead of the dark entryway I was expecting, there was a forest in front of me.

As in an actual forest.

Large trees stood in front of me, each far taller than my apartment complex. Beneath the trees, lush green grass swayed in a wind that carried air which warmed my freezing body, rustling as each individual blade brushed against another. Bright, inviting sunlight shined just above the horizon, enriching the color of the trees and grass.

About fifteen meters away, almost hidden by the grass, a worn dirt road wide enough for a car or truck to use cut through the forest, the only sign the wilderness had been touched by civilization.

Beyond the road, the forest continued for at least fifteen more meters, then came to either a small lake or a large pond, its surface shining brightly under the sun.

What.

The.

Shit.

I stood there for several seconds, dumbfounded by the sight before me. Then I did what any sensible person would do.

I slowly closed my door.

Then I locked it again.

With the door closed, the warmth of the sun beyond went away, and I was left in the cold, brain moving at a thousand miles a minute.

There's a forest in my apartment. This is not scientifically possible and cannot be real. So, then why am I seeing this? Am I actually in a ditch somewhere, freezing to death and imagining myself standing here? No, that doesn't make sense; why would I hallucinate about a forest inside my apartment in my final moments of life? Wouldn't I be seeing my life flashing before my eyes and regretting past decisions, as well as feeling lonely since I had never even had a girlfriend?

Okay, so I wasn't dead or dying. Was I tripping out then? Did someone put drugs in the one drink I had at the party, just to see me freak out? No, that wouldn't make sense, either. If someone drugged me, I would have been seeing things that made no sense for the last hour, since that was when I had my drink. So, that leaves me with one possible explanation.

I've suddenly fallen into insanity.

That possibility was almost as unlikely as the others. Why would the breaking of my sanity mean I would see only one crazy thing? Shouldn't I also be going on about satellites and aliens? The fact Big Brother was watching my every move, waiting to kidnap me because I knew too much about some insanely illogical plot involving mind control?

But at the same time, I had just seen a forest in my living room.

Yup. Sudden insanity is the most likely cause. And that would mean when I open the door, I will likely see nothing out of place, since the forest itself was a creation of my mind and I have now realized this… Right?

Well, one way to find out.

I turned the key to my apartment, then opened the door slowly, silently hoping to see darkness greeting m-

Sunlight flooded out of the door, and a bird tweeted from behind the wood panel.

I slammed the door shut without meaning to, alarmed by the continued presence of the forest. Okay, the forest's still there—that's probably not a good sign, means I'm likely officially crazy. Don't know how I couldn't be with my mind's random desire to see a forest in my apartment. Maybe I really was drugged at the party…

The door to one of the neighbors', an older guy named Albert— or Al—opened to my right, and I looked over just in time for me to see him step out with boots and a coat on.

"What are you doing slamming doors this late, son?" Al walked toward me, running a hand over his nearly bald head as he blinked sleep from his hazel eyes. "You probably woke up half the complex."

I hesitated in my answer, not wanting to sound like a mental patient by saying, 'Oh, I'm sorry. The forest behind my door just startled me. Won't happen again.' I already was strange enough as it was.

"Sorry about that," I finally apologized. "Tripped over my own feet as I was stepping through the door." Immediately when the words left my mouth, I knew my quick explanation made no logical sense.

Al looked at me in confusion, and perhaps incredulousness. "So you tripped out the door while you were walking in?"

"I was walking backwards." Well, that makes even less sense. I never was good at coming up with quick explanations.

"That doesn't change physics," my neighbor pointed out. "You'd have still fallen inside your apartment."

"Hey, I found a way, okay?"

Al sighed at that and walked back to his own door. "Just don't slam it again." It sounded like he added something like, 'Weird little dumbass' under his breath, but he spoke too quietly to be heard clearly.

I narrowed my eyes at Al's back until he disappeared into his own apartment. Why was it that everyone always went for my height when they insulted me? Why not the hair? Or the eyes?

Oh, that's right—I'm almost half a foot shorter than what was normal for a guy. Now it makes sense.

I turned my attention back to my closed door, and what lay beyond. I had run out of possible explanations for why I was hallucinating about a forest inside my apartment, and not seeing anything else out of the ordinary. I was also running out of time before I froze out here; a hoodie was not a good plan in the long run. I needed to get inside and warm up, and without stepping into my insane mind's imaginary forest.

Alright, Shawn, here's what's going to happen: You're going to see your apartment on the other side of that door. Your couch will be straight ahead; your bedroom door next to it; and your laptop sitting on the counter where you left it. It's right there. The forest is just your mind trying to take you to crazy land. It's not there. Now open the door, and step into your apartment, not the fakewoods.

With a mind set on seeing what I had called home for the last three years, I grabbed the door handle and quickly opened my apartment door for the third time.

The sight of my couch in dim light greeted me, along with a faint shine from the door handle of my bedroom, and the slim form of my laptop. No forest was in sight.

Good. Now I have confirmed my mind went crazy there for a little bit… Or maybe it still is…

A mystery for tomorrow, I decided, no matter how strange it was.

I stepped into my apartment then, kicking off my snowy shoes and tossing my keys on the counter with a metallic clatter. I then pushed my door enough for it to close on its own, and walked forward to turn the light on.

A gust of wind stopped me in my tracks.

I looked back at the door to see if it was open, and had somehow let in warm air during a night that was well below freezing.

It hadn't. It was securely closed.

The floor suddenly softened, going from feeling like hard wood like it was to soft grass and dirt.

That was when it suddenly got warmer in the room, as if the sun was beating down on my head—the walls and ceiling cracked like glass on the verge of breaking.

I took it all in numbly, unable to move or even feel anything else. This was really bad, wasn't it?

There was a flash of light, then searing pain all over my body, and inside my body.

And then everything went black.

The scent of healthy grass reached my nostrils, along with the smell of earth and the last remnants of morning dew. Pollen, honey, the stink of a pair of nesting Bug-Eaters, maple and oak leafs, horse stench, traces of musty, unripened wheat, an intoxicating amount of smoked meat, tiny hints of both low and high-end tobacco, wood smoke, and… Something else—something ancient, powerful, and wise was in the air. Each aroma was potent to the point of seeming to be inside my nose, yet some also seemed far away.

The odors were put aside when a branch snapped above and to my left. The fleeted feet of a Long-Tail rodent passed above, the cause of the breaking branch. An amphibian croaked. A fish jumped out of the water to catch a fly. A Bug-Eater flew between the trees, its wings weaker than the smallest hatchling—yet still louder than the wind. And far off, a horse's hoof slipped on a rock.

A breeze started to flow through the air, placing the sounds and noises back two places in importance. It was quite warm, but not overly so; the breeze was cool and refreshing. The sun was beating down on me, but the light wind, and several large shadows, negated most of its effect on the temperature. The earth beneath my head was soft and wet, as if it had rained recently and had not yet completely been absorbed by the ground. Finally, the grass was gentle and smooth—healthy. It felt not unlike a bed.

Where am I?

Slowly, I opened my eyes—which felt odd as they did so—and was temporarily blinded by the warm sun on my face. When my vision returned, it was better than I remembered—far better; I could see the veins of each and every tree above me as if they were an inch away from my eyes. Color was cleaner and more crisp. The sun was brighter, yet I could see more detail of its surface than I ever had before. Each color was sharper and… Complete, like I had been seeing all colors my entire life, but had never seen them until now. Everything was beautiful to my eyes.

My body suddenly throbbed with pain, mostly a dull, sore sensation—like dealing with the aftermath of a long hike. But something about the feeling was… Very off. My body felt wrong, misshapen, different—alien. My legs were shorter and thicker. My arms were longer, and felt like they were the same thickness as my legs. My head, neck, chest, and stomach felt long and irregularly-shaped. There were parts on my back that were causing me pain, and something was telling it it was because I was lying on the ground at a strange angle, with my weight on top of the other parts. And there was… Something behind me, something long, solidly-built, and heavy.

Everything was wrong.

The fish I heard before jumped out of the water again, and I looked ahead toward where I could smell water.

That was when I realized I had a snout. A long, thin snout with grey scales like stone.

Panic flooded me. That shouldn't have been there! Humans don't have snouts! Why the hell do I have a damn snout?! What is this?!

I jumped to my feet, and immediately fell down on my stomach. My arms were acting like my legs, and my legs were bending in ways they shouldn't have. I suddenly felt like I had torn my ACL again, and had to relearn how to walk.

I felt the parts on my back that I couldn't identify stretch seemingly of their own accord, then fold comfortably against my sides—a much more comfortable position than they had been in when I was on my back.

Twisting my head around faster and further back than I should have been able to do without breaking my neck, I looked at my unknown appendages.

They were wings. Wide, thin, leathery, bat-like wings that felt far stronger than they appeared. The rest of my body was covered in grey scales like my snout—my snout!—and was reptilian in build; it looked like the combined features of an alligator, crocodile, lizard, and snake, along with a bit of stone thrown in. A long tail stretched behind me.

I screamed in horror, yet my throat emitted only a small squeak. What is this?! What kind of fracked up dream is this?! What drugs did I take to hallucinate this?! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Out of my peripheral vision—which was much wider, now that I noticed—I saw an unusually large quantity of fresh sap collected at the bottom of a tree; it was mirroring the scene around it almost like glass.

Driven by a wild desire to see myself from a source that didn't lie, I went to run to the sap, but I again fell on my stomach before I could even get my limbs to move forward. It was as if my arms no longer worked.

I quickly abandoned my efforts to use my arms, and used my legs to push myself toward the tree. My body slid along the ground with frightening ease, and I wormed my way forward.

In my present state of mind, I didn't see how the grass was as tall as I was while I was lying down, didn't find it noteworthy that a pine cone seemed to be two feet tall, or that pebbles were like large rocks a meter in diameter. I only focused on getting to the sap.

I reached the sap and looked into its sticky, surprisingly reflective surface—hoping, praying, that this screwed up acid trip would allow me to see my own face, if only to know it would only get stranger from here.

I didn't see it.

My face was, like the rest of my body, stony and reptilian. My eyes—my emerald green, not brown eyes—were almost perfectly round, and my pupils were vertical and shaped similar to some snakes; bony eye ridges had replaced my eyebrows. My nostrils were long and narrow. My once pink skin was replaced by scales like the rest of my body, and they were linked together like armor. Komodo dragon-like lips covered up teeth I found to be shaped like daggers and as sharp as razors. The knobby beginnings of seven horns were on my head: Four large ones at the back; a smaller one above and slightly behind each eye ridge; and a final one between my eyes where my forehead should have been.

I went numb, totally and completely numb. My panic left, yet I did not feel any more calm. My body relaxed, yet my mind was racing. And finally, my hopes that I was somehow on an acid trip were dashed, but I wanted nothing more than to find out I managed to do drugs when I had never done so before.

None of this made sense, none of it was logical. I was in a dragon's body—a dragon's! When did this happen? Why did it happen? How did it happen?! This was impossible, it had to be. Nothing in science could change the DNA of a living creature to the point it turned into something completely different—especially a human's DNA.

And yet, despite how I hoped I was hallucinating, this didn't seem like a trick of the mind. It was too detailed, had too much feeling, too much odor. I smelled every scent, saw the smallest of details, and heard everything; I had since I wasn't even fully awake. And most importantly, my mind was disoriented far more than it ever had been before. I could feel every part of my body, but I had no idea how to use even the parts I was familiar with. Everything else, I didn't even have an inkling of an idea of how to use, any comprehension of how they worked.

… This was real, wasn't it?

My mind went blank instinctively, and I sniffed the air. The strange scent—the ancient, powerful, and wise smell—was stronger than before, and rapidly gaining even more strength. The stench of horse was growing stronger with the unknown scent.

The wheels of a cart creaked.

The hooves of the horse who pulled the wagon clopped against the dirt, its reins ringing.

Above the sound of the cart and the horse, the surprisingly clear and fair voice of an elderly Fast-Breeder carried far ahead. He was singing of a road that went on and on.

Someone was coming.

Alright, so there is the rewritten prologue. I know that I had more language in it than I normally write, but let's all be honest: how would YOU react to being in a dragon's body? I went with a realistic reaction to such an event, at least I think it is realistic.

Don't expect a lot of updates on this, as I have a lot of other writing engagements and I am going to be very particular about how I write this story. I want to do it right, and it is very difficult to do that when you are working with such high-quality material as a starting point.

Also not sure if I will pick songs as credit songs for each chapter like I do with Fate Calls. I am considering it, but I won't do it if I can't find a song.

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope this is a vast improvement over the last version.

See you soon.