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In which we lookit Thomas goooooo! ⬅️🚂💨👀

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"Hurry up with those trucks" puffed Emily. "I'm not about to be late because of your dawdling".

"Is this even your train?" wheeshed Thomas. "I thought you were the Director's private engine".

Emily sneered, and blew steam at him. "I can do more than just drag around a stuffy old inspection saloon all day. Now get a move on so I can prove it".

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Bonk

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I am a unstoppable and that's a bad thing.

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He must have been bitching the entire time

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Out With The Old

The great pacific stood in the center of the works. Parts were laid about on the floor, and pieces of his sleek, streamlined cladding had been removed.

His eyes scanned the room, a haughty, judgemental look to them as he watched the men carrying out his restoration.

He had high standards, and he expected them to be met.

His new owners were a duke and duchess after all. Though even if they hadn’t been, the big express engine considered himself to be no less than nobility regardless.

Still, even as he demanded perfection, his impatience with the proceedings grew.

Gresley’s finest was never meant to be seen in such an unkempt state after all.

He shuddered at the thought, though he tried to hide it.

As he mulled over what work was left to be done, his attention was drawn to the opening of one of the side doors to the shop floor. A man stepped into the room, carrying a wrapped bundle of objects, which the engine assumed were tools, or perhaps some new parts.

He recognized the man as the one the Duke and Duchess had hired to oversee his restoration.

The big engine judged him to be suitable enough for the task. He did indeed have a keen eye for details, and thoroughly knew his way around engines.

He had however, once worked as a steam mechanic for the National Coal Board, and the express engine balked at the idea of being treated like one of the grubby industrials the man was familiar with. Especially as he seemed to still hold an inexplicable fondness for the… what were they called?... Austerities which had been his previous patients.

Still though, he was good at what he did, and the big engine was satisfied to see that the man was smart enough to give his current project the respect a Streak deserved.

“Morning Old Boy,” the man said cheerily.

The engine yawned dismissively, but he still managed to respond with some grace.

“Good morning Sir”. He eyed the long bundle being carried over the man’s shoulder. “What have you got there?”

“Well, that’s just what I came here to show you”. The man was beaming. Clearly he was excited about whatever it was he had brought, and expected the streak to be enthused as well.

The big engine watched as the objects were placed on the ground in front of him, and the cloth wrapping was removed.

His eyes went wide.

Placed before him were a pair of shining brass nameplates.

His nameplates.

“It took some effort,” said the man, evidently proud of the fact, “But we managed to find these at last. I gave them a good polish. Figured you’d-”

“Get rid of them!”

The man blinked, stunned into silence for a few moments. “I… I’m sorry?” he said at last.

“You heard me” The big engine huffed. Don’t question me, just do it. “Get rid of them”.

The man was puzzled. He couldn’t understand what he had just heard, but the big engine's angry scowl told him he ought to figure it out quickly.

“Are you… su-”

“That engine is gone” hissed the pacific. He was a failure. He was cast aside and forgotten. “I am not him”.

The man stared at him. “R-right” he stammered, “Well… What do you want me to do with these then?”

The engine glared at him. Despite not being in steam, the man swore he could see fire glowing behind his eyes.

“Throw them out, run them over, I don’t care. Just get rid of them!” The big engine scanned his surroundings, until his sight landed on something at the other end of the workshop.

“Actually…” he said slowly, “You see that smelting pot? Toss them in there”.

The man balked at this request. “Wha… Even if you don’t want them, these are still valuable artif-”

“I want them Destroyed!” The pacific bellowed with furry. Don’t make me tell you again.

The man stuttered for a bit longer, trying to find his voice. But the furious glare of the massive engine towering over him made it clear that there would be no arguments.

Eventually, he gave in, and walked slowly towards the red hot, boiling smelting pot. The big engine's eyes remained locked on him the whole way.

The man gave a heavy sigh. Then, he hefted the still gleaming nameplates into the pot.

The big engine watched, his face creased in anger, as flames leapt up from the bubbling mass, the shining plates sinking slowly into the molten, swirling metals of the giant cauldron.

He didn’t look away until the once magnificent nameplates had been fully submerged and melted away into nothing.

Once that was done… He smiled.

“So…” the man sighed, “I suppose we’ll have to give you a new name then”.

The engine hardly bothered to look at him. He was too engrossed in his own mind, a deep feeling of satisfaction washing over him.

“I’ll get back to you on that” he said, with a slight chuckle. “We’ll workshop something suitable I’m sure”.

A month later, the streamlined pacific had his new name.

He beamed as the freshly cast plates were bolted to his side. They glistened marvelously in the sunlight, practically glowed even, and they complimented his new silver paint immaculately.

Their lettering spelled out for all the world the new name of Gresley’s finest.

‘Spencer’.

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Henry The Green Engine 5: Just As Good As Gordon

Written By: SparkArrester

When Henry returned from Crewe, all the engines were happy to see their friend again. The other big engines especially liked not having to cover his work. In fact, Henry was so capable in his new shape that he was able to lessen their workload. James was especially thankful for less goods work. Gordon, however, found himself becoming jealous.

“Henry’s quite… chipper, these days.” He said to James one morning.

“Yep, that holiday at Crewe really did wonders!” James replied, “He can properly pull his own weight now, and even take a load off of engines like me!”

“Yes, well-”

“Besides,” Continued James absent-mindedly, “I heard he’s set new timings for that fish train of his. I wonder if he’ll work his way up to the express…”

“Pah! I doubt it!” Gordon harrumphed, “Little Henry’s rebuild is all well and good, but there’s still only one engine that’s big enough and strong enough for the express! And that’s me!”

Without another word, he puffed off to do just that.

“What is this?!” Exclaimed Gordon as he came up to the platform.

There was Henry, at the head of the express! He was sizzling happily as he waited for the guard. Gordon was about to tell him off when he saw the Fat Controller walking towards him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” He began, “But Henry shall be taking the express for the rest of the day.”

“What?! But why?!”

“Well, Henry’s fast timings on the Kipper have proved he can keep up with the express, and he deserves it after working so hard. I’ve arranged for you to cover his work for the rest of the day. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes sir…” Grunted Gordon.

Gordon took Henry’s goods trains for the rest of the day, grumbling all the while. Henry, happy to be pulling the express, took no notice.

He did notice that night, when Gordon trudged into the sheds and made his grievances known.

“You spend all winter getting pampered at Crewe, and then immediately coming back and taking the most prestigious jobs, it’s disgraceful!”

“It’s not disgraceful at all!” Countered Henry, “Today was just a trial! And it went well, in case you were wondering…”

“That’s all very impressive Henry, but it’s unnecessary. I’ll always be here to pull the express! I appreciate the effort, but it’s best you stick to your ‘Kipper’.”

“Well I don’t know about that! The Fat Controller seemed plenty impressed with me. Maybe I’ll take the express more often!”

“That,” Said Gordon, “Remains to be seen.”

And he grumpily went to sleep.

His mood didn’t improve the next morning. He simmered impatiently as his fire was lit and his tender was filled.

“I’ll show Henry that there’s only one engine for the express!” He thought to himself as he collected his train.

It was longer than usual, filled with visitors that wanted to see the beautiful beaches and lovely spring flowers. Gordon didn’t care, and ran harder than he had in a while.

“Must be on time, must be early!” He said as he rocketed down the line.

His crew tried to ease him off, but that made him even more defiant as he sped across the rails and made it to the other end of the line. He was uncoupled from his train, turned around, and refueled. He was ready to leave when his driver got out.

“Come on, Come on!” Snorted Gordon, “The express is waiting!”

“Just doing a routine inspection.” Replied the Driver.

“We can do that later!”

The driver tried to inspect Gordon, but he let off so much steam that he couldn’t see anything, and gave up in the end. Gordon felt pleased as he backed down on the express.

This continued for the rest of the day. Gordon was pleased with himself as he arrived early every time, but he was setting himself up for trouble. Most engines have only two cylinders, but Gordon had three; two on the outside and one inside. While this makes him the strongest engine on The Fat Controller’s railway, it also makes him the most sensitive to poor maintenance, especially in his inside cylinder and motion. Gordon should have known this, and let his crew inspect him, but he was so jealous of Henry that he forgot. Eventually, Gordon backed down to the last express of the day. He barreled down the line as his paint shone against the setting sun.

“Early every time!” He chortled, “That’s one in the headlamp for Henry!”

That train of thought was interrupted by a crack and a terrible grinding noise.

“Woooooooosh!” Exclaimed Gordon, “Stop! Stop!”

His crew brought the train to a halt and inspected the damage. It didn’t take long to see the problem.

“You’ve damaged your inside motion!” Scowled the Driver, “This is why we inspect before taking out a train, you silly engine!”

Gordon stared at the sleepers in shame.

He was roused from his stupor when he heard a whistle. Henry was passing by with a goods train. He was flagged down and was told of the situation. Quickly, he left his trucks at the next station and ran back to fetch Gordon.

“Don’t worry!” He said, “I might not be as fast as you, but I’ll certainly make up the time!”

Gordon was silent as Henry, with much snorting, started the train. As they got up to speed, Gordon spoke.

“My behavior was most unbecoming…” He whispered, “I feel rather low. You are a good engine for the express, Henry. You're almost as good as me…”

“Don’t mention it.” Replied Henry, knowingly.

They arrived at the big station, only 5 minutes late. The Fat Controller, who had been told of the incident, waited for them.

“I’m disappointed Gordon!” Scolded The Fat Controller, “You know how important maintenance is!”

“Yes sir…” Whimpered Gordon.

“Even so,” Continued The Fat Controller, “That middle cylinder of yours has been playing up more and more lately. Perhaps you might be in for a rebuild of your own…”

Gordon and Henry raised their eyebrows.

 “Anyways, you may take Henry’s goods trains while he takes the express.” He finished.

“Oh, Thank You sir!” Smiled Henry.

Now, Henry and Gordon are good friends once again. When Gordon is tired or needs repairs, Henry is always there to assist. James complains of the competition for the express, but we all know he’d never incur Henry’s ire, lest he can back his goods trains! 

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The

Edward

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I reckon Nobby was surprised The Fat Director even bothered in the first place. Maybe he knew how angry he was at being swindled (and probably took some joy in that!) and reckoned he'd scrap Henry in a heartbeat, even after the special coal business. Why you'd import special coal just for that elephant is beyond him.

So the shock that Henry was rebuilt instead would be big. Maybe that proves to Nobby that there are still directors that look after their engines?

Maybe Nobby and Henry even share the joy of grumbling about anything and anyone whenever he arrives at Barrow, I know one big engine that might get on both of their nerves...

The whole "He's not useful/isn't useful anymore so he probably isn't really worth caring about" thing seems like a common sentiment in the Big 4 era that slowly unravels during BR days.

Henry also being like "I understand you now!!!!!!!!! I know what you're going through and you're not alone!!!!!!!!!" and Coppernob hating it is funny. He doesn't want to be understood, or psychoanalyzed by the Jank pacific with 20 diseases.

I'm curious if Nobby & Henry had any interesting interactions or if he just ignored the jank pacific with 20 diseases lol

The short version is as you say: At first Coppernob barely gives a thought to Henry. It's 1922, the F.R. is staring down the barrel of Grouping, and as a clown-studded sideshow the No-Where Railway keeps scrounging up these absurdly-large track-deforming monster engines from Lady-knows-where. And then (because beggars can be choosers, apparently?) they keep chucking some back. Whatever! Nobby has seen the value placed on engine life plummet over the last decade, so in all this chaos Jank Pacific With 20 Diseases surely won't last long. Sad, but not Coppernob's problem. He has enough of his own to take care of, remember he already chaplains a minimum of 5 engines each year on their deathbed. He's certainly not going to get attached to this sickly stray. This isn't like E2106, who had value. The green elephant is not a Useful Engine and we all know what happens to those.  

So, funnily enough, this relationship begins on Henry's initiative. Cos after being let out of the tunnel, with his whole new perspective on life, he starts coming into Barrow (sometimes. he's not on the express very often, of course) and looking on Coppernob with new eyes. Like "... oh wow. we're the same, this incredibly ancient haughty old relic and i. i, too, know what it is, to be stuck watching everyone else pass. everyone else have a life. and to be all alone as a spectacle." Not that Henry ever says it, but it's abundantly clear he's thinking it – and Nobby HATES. IT. Nothing in all the world he hates so much as pity. He grows wroth. Just spittingly sarcastic. Whelp, Henry is a real and no mere shadow engine to him now – an engine he criticizes specially at every opportunity! But the more Coppernob reams him out, the more Henry just looks on him with eyes that are clearly thinking "Poor old fellow, of course he's grouchy. I Understand." and obviously that infuriates Nobby even more. 

Luckily Henry doesn't come into Barrow THAT OFTEN. Otherwise Coppernob might have exploded long before that bomb could get to him lmao. 

It really says a lot about how just absolute shite Henry's life was during the '20s that Nobby never succeeds in putting him off. Like Coppernob never upbraids him for being an ill-built failure. That's one thing. He'll criticize Henry to death but he doesn't insult him and to Henry, sensitive though he is on some points, it's really quite refreshing that Coppernob never starts from the assumption that Henry is lazy or slack. Also there's, like, one (1) time when Nobby told off a couple other engines at the station who were having a go at him and Nobby really mostly did it more because he despised them than because he gave a damn about Henry, he literally forgot about it ten minutes later. But for the rest of his life Henry's like "damn, he's a patron and a gentleman. I'll never forget that." 

Look, the bar for being nice to Henry I was so bloody low. 

But Henry also got the chance to inadvertently boost Coppernob in return. Coz the Flying Kipper wreck, see. Spoiler alert, but Coppernob spent 1930-1935 sinking into a deep depression as the LMS shifted into high gear wiping out the ex-Furness engines. There was a year there towards the end when he was nearly silent. What was the point. What did anything matter. The engine from the tunnel was in a devastating derailment? They're sending him to Crewe? Wellll that sucks. Everything sucks. R.I.P. 

Nobby's so lost in the brain fog that it takes him a while to process what he saw, when he witnesses Henry's return that spring. Henry blows through en route to the island and everyone's like "who's THAT? that isn't...?" and it takes a solid 5 minutes for Nobby to blink his way to grasping the question and another 5 to realize the significance of what he just saw. 

The green elephant, sent to an LMS workshop as wreckage. Returning in hale and hearty triumph. 

For the first time in three years, Coppernob is heard to give a rusty laugh. 

And he laughs, and he laughs. And he laughs. 

Maybe, even now, even when the world seems hopeless… maybe senseless tragedy doesn't always win.

(Nobby's perfectly composed, of course, when a mere two days later Henry brings his first express to Barrow. The wind warning signal on Ab Hawin Viaduct held them up 15 minutes, so Henry is three minutes late. Coppernob is perfectly grim when he tsks Henry over his time… but maybe there's just a bit of a twinkle in his eye, when Henry splutters protest.)

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Henry The Green Engine 4: The Flying Kipper

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

There is a large harbor next to the big station, where ships from all over arrive. There are big liners and ferries with shining paint and spotless brass, carrying passengers from far away places. There are freight ships as well, coming and going with cargo and the things we need. There are many fishing boats besides those, that unload their catch at special quays. Some are taken by road to shops in the town, while the rest are loaded on a train and taken away.

The railwaymen call this train, “The Flying Kipper”.

Henry was still dour from the accident with Percy and the trousers. Luckily, no jam had gotten on him, but the trousers still felt uncomfortable on his funnel. Worse still, he had made the Fat Controller cross.

“Never mind Henry,” Comforted his Driver, “A nice run with the Flying Kipper ought to cheer us all up! The Fat Controller might even forgive you!”

“Really?” Replied Henry Dubiously.

“Yep! Now, don’t tell Gordon,” And he leaned in close, “But I think we might even have a turn on the express!”

That cheered Henry up. His mood began to improve as he left the sheds and puffed towards the harbor.

At the quay, he saw workmen loading crates onto a long line of fish vans. There was ice and frost, far more than in the morning.

“Be careful!”, Called a workman, “This ice can be trouble!”

“Don’t I know it…” Grumbled Henry, staring at the soot-covered trousers that clung to his funnel.

 But he remembered what his driver said and calmed down as the last door banged and the guard showed his green lamp. With much snorting and whooshing, Henry set off with the heavy train.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!” Puffed Henry as his wheels spun on.

“All right! Don’t fuss! All right! Don’t fuss!” Grumbled the fish vans.

“That’s better! That’s better!” Puffed Henry, as they left the harbor and picked up speed.

They tore through the countryside, whooshed under bridges and clattered through stations. Thick clouds of smoke and steam poured out of Henry’s funnel as they went, and when the fireman added more coal, the fire’s light shone all around, reflecting on the snow.

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” Peeped Henry as he passed green signal after green signal.

They were going so well that he had forgotten to be cross about the trousers and had started enjoying himself as the sun set in the distance. Then, the driver noticed something.

“Distant Signal’s up!” He called, “Caution!”

He shut off steam and prepared to apply the brakes when the fireman spoke up.

“Look! The Home Signal’s green!” He said.

“Oh,” Replied the Driver, confused, “Well, away we go!”

Henry responded with a will, speeding up so quickly that the fireman had to work extra hard to keep his fire fed. He sounded off his whistle happily as he passed the green signal and disappeared into the night.

Up ahead, James was feeling the opposite of happy. He had left earlier with a slow goods train, the trucks bumping and banging every time they stopped at a station. The ice and cold had not helped matters and that, coupled with stalling on Gordon’s Hill, had left James cold, annoyed, and late. So late, that he had to be shunted to let Henry pass him. His crew, tired of his grumbling, sought refuge in the van with the guard. The guard had lit the stove in the brakevan, and was brewing cocoa.

“Oh, this tastes excellent!” Said the fireman as he sipped his cocoa.

“You best finish quickly!” Laughed the Driver, “The Kipper’s due, and James will want to get going!”

“Who cares? We’ll have all the time we need after the Kipper passes!”

The fireman defiantly stayed seated as the guard peered out of his van.

“I can hear the Kipper…” He mused, “It’ll pass us at any moment.”

At that moment he spotted engine-lamps in the distance and thought nothing of it until he realized it was on their line.

“Everyone out!” He shouted.

“But I haven’t finished my cocoa yet!” Complained the Fireman.

“There’s no time!” Yelled the Guard, “The Kipper’s on our line!”

They got out of the van just in time.

Henry slammed into the goods train, demolishing the brakevan and the last few trucks before being thrown to the lineside and skidding across the snow and dirt before coming to a rest on his side. The fish vans hit the wreckage and got battered to bits, sprawling their cargo as they piled up in a heap. Up ahead, James, wondering where his crew was, got jolted forward along with the rest of his train. He was upright and unharmed, but the trucks that weren’t in pieces were now awkwardly standing on the sleepers.

“What on earth?!” He shouted, trying to make out what had happened, “Henry?”

The battered and bruised shape that looked like Henry only wheezed. James’s crew were busy digging themselves out of snow when the guard noticed something.

“Fire!” He cried.

The remains of the brakevan had caught fire from the stove. At once he helped James’s crew out of the snow, and they rushed into James’s cab as he raced to the next station for help.

The breakdown train arrived in the morning. Luckily, the fire got its spirits dampened by the cold, with only a few trucks being charred. The workmen began clearing the mess and checked over Henry. He felt miserable.

“Oh dear”, he thought as he looked up, “I’m in for it now!”

The Fat Controller came trudging through the snow towards him. He paused, and seemed to violently kick something away before reaching henry. 

“The signal was down sir…” Said Henry sadly.

“Don’t worry Henry.” Said The Fat Controller, “Ice & snow caused the accident. The signal was weighed down and the points froze after James got shunted. It couldn’t be helped. Now, I’m sending you to Crewe. It’s a fine place for sick engines. They’ll give you a new shape and you’ll be more useful than ever. You won’t need special coal anymore!”

“Yes sir…” Replied Henry, doubtfully.

Henry was taken to Crewe the next day. They took him to pieces and rebuilt him. He thought it was quite the experience, and was more than happy to return home. Lots of people came to see him. He whistled as he passed by, smiling wider than he’d ever had. He can make steam far easier now, and doesn’t need the special coal, and is more than happy to share the last of it with his friends. He steams so well and can go so fast that it’s enough to make Gordon jealous. But that’s another story. 

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There are two types of diesels-

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Gordon and Edward, Part 3

As Lady is my witness, I will never take more than 500 words to ever answer a simple ask again 🫡 Enjoy this last hurrah of hyperlexia!

Part 1: Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2: Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (this post): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

Collision

Folks take Main Line Engines Edward and Gordon as a glimpse into just normal day-in-the-life stuff for them. It's not. It's the culmination of 40+ years of their shit. (From a Doylist perspective, it's also the last time Awdry would ever visit this dynamic – it's the last time any Awdry would, in a proper RWS book – and he seems to have known it.) 

So, cue scene: "Wrong Road." Here we are, late evening, chilling on a couple of sidings somewhere outside Tidmouth station. The text puts this setting in a sort of void. I’d assume our heroes are taking on coal or water or something, as after this they report to the station for their trains. But that’s not for a bit yet. Right now we’re chilling. Eddie and Gordo. Great old friends. 

All right, that might have been sarcastic if we were setting this scene in the ‘20s, but this is now 1964 or -65 (depending on just how rapidly you think The Author and his publishers beam these stories out there). Don’t be so cynical, dear reader. Time has passed. 

This is Gordon matured. In his prime. He’s an Evolved Being these days (still capitalizes random things in his head, though). He has come to recognize that, grand and mighty though he is, relationships are important. He's been reminded of this just recently, in fact, what with his old driver retiring. (How's he doing with the transition, you ask? Wonderfully. No one copes with change better than Gordon the Big Engine. No one!) And so he’s going to make an effort here to find something to chat about with Edward. Even if Edward is kind of a queer old fellow, one of his tougher relationships. They don’t often see eye-to-eye on things, you see. But Evolved Being Gordon values his relationships, so, goddammit, he puts himself out there. Truly, he has a certain respect for Edward for never being drawn into Gordon’s lead on things. Like, it’s irritating – very – but Gordon can acknowledge that this is because, in his own way, Edward is something sort of like a leader, and indeed on occasion Gordon has had cause to admit to himself, after the fact, that Edward may have been right. Once. Or even twice. Anyway, their differences make things tricky and a bit distant, but Gordon still values the relationship. Enough to make an effort.

And! Tonight, he has a commonality for them to bond over. Something that’s been bugging the hell out of him and that surely must be worrying Edward, too. 

"It's not fair," grumbled Gordon. "What isn't fair?" asked Edward.  "Letting Branch Line diesels pull Main Line trains." 

Coz diesels, amirite? 

I cannot emphasize enough that Gordon makes this conversational gambit in good faith. He knows that Edward has had insecurities about being replaced before. Edward’s been dealing with The Fat Controller letting this diesel lurk around on his Branch Line for some while. And now Gordon and the others are facing the same threat! Gordon can genuinely carp to Edward about this and fully expect sympathy! Then after that Gordon can offer sympathy, too! They have a common interest, huzzah!

Gordon is sure that tonight he is getting a good grade in Friendship. 

Then - 

"Never mind, Gordon. I'm sure BoCo will let you pull his trucks sometimes. That would make it quite fair."

Needle scratch. 

From Gordon’s perspective: WTF just happened here? Edward’s… Edward’s teasing him, isn’t he? 

Now, look. Part of Gordon’s maturation is that he has accepted that he is part of the great karmic circle of life. Some days you’re the champ, and some days you take the L and just have to graciously accept that everyone else is gonna enjoy their victory laps. He’s used to this. He can handle it with good grace, indeed. 

However: 

1) Is that… is that what’s going on? IS Edward zinging him? Gordon’s pretty sure. He’s familiar with the experience ("never trust domeless engines! teehee"). But Edward does like to take his shots with an angelically serious face, which Gordon always finds confusing and a bit annoying. No one else bothers to disguise it when they’re laughing at him, and Gordon has learned to take it well (well, take it without melting down). But he does wish Edward would be more direct about it. Because… is that what’s going on here??

2) And, if it is… WHY? What the hell just happened? You tease someone after they fucked up and you’ve won this round. Did something just happen in the time it took Gordon to blink? What was the round? How did Gordon fuck up? They were having a perfectly amiable conversation like one bloody second ago! Garrrrgh. 

(This is the whole problem with Edward, Gordon harrumps to himself. What is ‘this’, you ask? Well, if Gordon could explain it, it wouldn’t be such a problem now would it!)

Well, where he went wrong is utterly baffling to Gordon. But it’s clear as day to Edward, and pretty obvious to everyone he tells (and he seems to manage to relate this story to at least some parties within an extraordinarily short window of time…) The others may only tease when they’re in a position of strength. Edward’s playful teasing is not necessarily a sign that he’s comfortable; it’s a defense mechanism. When Edward is comfortable and relaxed with other engines, he tends to be practical-minded (job swap time!) and/or very much 100% in earnest (“I was pleased to hear your happy whistle yesterday”). Teasing is something he resorts to in order to find or restore equilibrium. So he’s not trying to signal that he’s “won” anything, but he is trying to win the exchange and turn the tables on Gordon in a moment when Gordon’s superior, dismissive attitude towards an engine rubs Edward the wrong way. Gordon thinks Edward will relate to him; they’re both steam engines who go way back, after all. Instead Edward instinctively relates to whatever engine Gordon is talking down. He probably would even if he hadn’t already made friends with BoCo - and he has. (This is another thing Gordon can’t fathom. Edward’s intuition lets him find and form friendships way faster than Gordon can comprehend warming up to anyone. To Gordon this feels like disloyalty.)

So Edward’s already lowkey annoyed - ‘Oh, Gordon’s being Gordon again’ - even as Gordon unconsciously stomps on the old, old wound that Edward still carries from the far past when Gordon would talk down him. Gordon doesn’t do that to him these days, but he’s still out here doing it to other engines and Edward dislikes it. A lot. 

But, because it is Gordon and Edward just isn’t comfortable enough to communicate with him in any sort of straightforward way, Edward once again pretends not to be bothered - even as he deliberately turns the tables on Gordon, playfully suggesting something he knows Gordon will hate as a fair solution to the problem. 

Winding Gordon up is so much easier and safer than, like, actually communicating with him. 

And so Edward does. He knows that when he pulls this sort of passive-aggressive move that it leaves Gordon pleasingly unsettled. 

What Edward may not understand is that Gordon really is genuinely out of his depth. It’s not clear to Gordon whether Edward is joking or not - and, unfortunately, wherever this notion appeared from, The Fat Controller does tend to call things Edward’s way so the fact that Edward has a bright idea really could imply that it’s going to become reality in a bafflingly brief amount of time. 

At any rate, Gordon deals with what seems to him this sucker punch out of nowhere by resorting to his old well-worn defense mechanism - his superiority complex. To soothe his confusion and his own hurt feelings (why is Edward laughing at him? how did Gordon just lose a game that he didn’t even know he was playing? what in Gresley’s name is Edward all the sudden trying to PUNISH him for?) Gordon grabs and flaunts his superior importance and breeding as a trump card: 

Gordon spluttered furiously. "I won't pull BoCo's dirty trucks. I won't run on Branch Lines."

(Gordon needs the comfort of this sort of boast, maybe needs to say it to convince himself.)

"Why not? It would be a nice change." "The Fat Controller would never approve," said Gordon loftily. "Branch Lines are vulgar." He puffed away in a dignified manner. Edward chuckled and followed him to the station… 

Of course, the fact that Gordon instantly needs to resort to boasting and putting Edward down (ho-hum; anyone here have a branch line?) only confirms to Edward that he’s always been right not to put much trust in this new amiability between them. To Edward’s eye, he barely had to tap on it before it shattered. From Gordon’s point of view, Edward just did a lot more than tap on it - stomped on it rather. Still, it’s incredibly fair to my eye for Edward to conclude that he was right not to think Gordon’s latter-day changes run very deep, and to keep up his ‘laugh and pretend not to care’ tactic even as the scene closes.

It’s completely fair. Still, Gordon, I’m sure, never gave this baffling exchange a second thought after he left the platform that evening with his train (for the first time). As far as Gordon is concerned, Edward scored one off on him SOMEHOW, Gordon harrumphed and did a little tit for tat which is his goddamn right, and perhaps they both could have been a little more mature about it but at any rate that’s over. 

It was dark by the time the trains reached the Junction, and you can guess what happened – Edward went through on the Main, while Gordon was switched to the Branch… It took The Fat Controller several hours to sort out the tangle and pacify the passengers. In the end Gordon was left, with his fire drawn, cold and cross on one of Edward's sidings[...]  "No, Bill, this lot's useless for scrap. We'll take it to the harbour and dump it in the sea." Gordon was alarmed. "I am Gordon. Stop! Stop!"  The twins paid no attention. Gordon shut his eyes and prepared for the worst[...] 

After an absolutely terrible night and, somehow, a more terrible morning with what Gordon (not autistic at all btw!) sincerely regards as a genuine attempt on his life…  

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. 

… Gordon encounters Edward again the next day only to be told that his whole harrowing experience, complete with the disrespect and the death threats from Edward’s own weird little industrial twin terrorists, ‘served him right.’ 

Gordon: 

WHAT?????? 

Gordon thinks that, at most, he got a little shirty the night before but that Edward literally started it. 

Edward, however, is taking a cool account of every sin Gordon has ever committed, up to and including Gordon being a drama queen about this whole ‘dump him in the sea’ business (I’m sure Edward could fathom taking the china clay twins seriously if he tried - if this were Duck coming to him with this complaint I’m sure Edward could make that leap of imagination - but this is Gordon. Edward doesn’t regard the twins as all that challenging and he’s not about to make an effort right now to understand the troubles of Gordon, who just last night had turned back the clock some thirty years in order to directly insult his branch line out of nowhere.) 

Basically: All the sudden, their old truce is in tatters. Both think that it’s the other’s fault – Edward reckons Gordon’s just proved it never meant much, while Gordon thinks Edward just spat on all his efforts for no reason at all that he can see. 

I am sympathetic to Gordon’s bafflement up to this point - I understand why Edward is blowing hot and cold like this, and I think he has a right to, but this hostile confusion and mutual pain was always going to be the inevitable result, sooner or later. 

But Gordon loses my sympathy real fast when he reacts to this development by… partying like it’s Vicarstown 1922:

(Note of course that while Henry and James gave Gordon an opening, their remarks were far more neutral – Gordon takes the opportunity to tank the entire vibe:) 

"Did you see him straining?" asked Henry.  "Positively painful," remarked James. "Just pathetic," grunted Gordon. "He should give up and be Preserved before it's too late."  "Shut up!" burst out Duck. 

Okay, yep. I am vividly reminded why kind little Edward, once-upon-a-time a very straightforward and transparent character, had to go and develop this entire fucky points-scoring communication style to begin with. 

But my proposal here is that this blow-up represents an aberration from their postwar relationship. They seemed to have moved on. They had at least 15 years of relative peace. The above scene represents something of a surprise twist (appropriate for a finale): Nah, they never did patch things up! They’re as fucked up as ever! 

Now, the previous paragraph was a place where I think that I am actually reading in concert with what Awdry’s writing. I do think he intended that as a bit of a twist. I think “Edward’s Exploit” is in a way meant to be a callback to those days, a deliberate “Edward’s Day Out/Edward and Gordon Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.” 

This whole book is, I think, meant to be a new as well as a final word on Edward’s character development. Hence, he shows us an Edward who throughout the book displays a new level of assuredness. We see his dynamic with Bill and Ben, introduced here for the first time. We’re shown that, far from fading away, he’s fast becoming besties with one of those newfangled diesels. And - well, you couldn’t really crown Edward’s character development without revisiting the Gordon dynamic, now could you? “Wrong Road” shows us the playful, teasing, never-fear-these-days-I-can-handle-Gordon-with-a-smile Edward we already met for the first time in “Cows,” but then for this go-’round Awdry takes it one step further: Edward no longer has to couch his disapproval of Gordon’s attitude indirectly, but can assert himself in a direct conflict. Edward’s never canonically scolded anyone before, but now we see he’s able to manage both titchy little saddletanks and Gordon Himself. The next time someone says Edward is a static character, I swear to Lady I am going to chuck this book at their head. That was a very deliberate character arc. And I love it! Lookit my sweet boy crack some skulls! Awesome! 

… it is, however, very depressing to me that we had to explode the apparent Edward+Gordon truce in order to achieve this. 

Mind you, Awdry thinks he resolved that conflict by the end of “Exploit.” I cannot emphasize this enough. Yes, Gordon reverted to his old tricks when Edward leveled up and told him off – but by the end of the story Edward’s wildly popular exploit has shut him up, so yay! It’s all good! 👍 👍

…

Oh, wait? You don’t think it’s so good? You feel like maybe you could use a bit more, before you felt like these two were on new and solider-than-ever ground? Like maybe this relationship needs a bit more than Gordon merely shutting up? Like you’d wish it to be deeper than Gordon apparently resigning himself to the fact that Edward is Always Fuckin’ Right, and Edward Always Fuckin’ Wins? Like maybe we haven’t really addressed the underlying problem here at all, maybe jealousy and pique and hierarchy was always their obstacle from Day 1? And so they can never compete their way out of this mess?

Yeah, weird. I feel like that too, somehow. 

However, this is what canon gives us. We can add some more to it, sure. But I do think it’s worth just… sitting with this for a while. Processing things. These are two characters who are flawed but who have such great qualities, as well, and there are these obvious points of connection and potential understanding, and you just feel like this could be a much richer relationship, instead of merely a decades-long tug-of-war. I mean, we go on to see it with Gordon and BoCo. (All right, obviously I’ll never admit BoCo is ‘just a diesel Edward.’ But for purposes of this particular essay, I’ll just say that… he’s not not a diesel Edward, y’know? They’re certainly goddamn similar enough that it’s incredible how close Gordon becomes with one of them and how, despite so much time and opportunity, he will forever be held at arms’-length with the other.) That relationship seems like one of genuine mutual support. Indeed the other remarkable thing that goes down in "Wrong Road" is that for once Gordon not only connects to someone without relying on the "benevolent patron" role, but indeed that he is the one who needs help – but he actually responds to it well and, instead of condescending to BoCo, he shows respect. And it seems so obvious that Gordon and Edward’s could have been like that too, but instead they’ve spent so long bothering each other despite a fair amount of good intention on each side. 

That’s how it goes sometimes, I guess. 

But hey, you know what. Maybe their relationship improved later, off-screen. Like maybe it had some space to breathe once The Author stopped poking around and fuckin’ writing about it. 

I’ve heard of wilder things. 

Uh, Cleanup Crew? 

"All three engines are now great friends." 

I think this famous conclusion is true – at least, it was true in 1945, at the height of their optimism and unity. However the tension in the Gordon-Edward leg of this triangle, seen from the beginning of canon, only ever gets worse. 

Honestly, the notorious TTRE stuff doesn’t strike me as all that bad. I read TTRE and I’m actually like, yeah sure, I can see how these two would move on to become friends. Honestly I can see it at the end of TTRE a lot more easily for Gordon and Edward than for Gordon and Henry - I feel like Gordon’s actually been a lot worse to Henry. Most of the red flags in this relationship – the aggressive ostracizing of Troublesome Engines and Edward’s backbiting and Taking Control of the Narrative – come later! And look, Gordon and Henry have their rough patches too. Henry the Green Engine is a terrible low point, Gordon was a flaming dumpster fire in his whistle story. But it’s also clear that Gordon and Henry do a lot of relationship repair, off-screen. We see continually how joined at the hip they are, we see them genuinely enjoying each other’s company, and it makes sense because we know they have interests and personality traits in common. 

In contrast, even though Gordon and Edward’s relationship seems more recoverable in theory, in practice nearly every interaction between them ranges from uncomfortable to actively hostile. There is never any repair, there’s only ever Edward managing to keep Gordon in check, and when you are constantly playing defense you might be able to make some sort of old working relationship creak and clatter on but you are never really getting close to each other either. If Henry needed an apology from Gordon, and I expect he did, then Henry spoke up and he got one. Edward is tougher than Henry, more independent. Which is good for him but one result from never moaning or complaining to Gordon about Gordon’s past offenses is that Gordon, oblivious and proud, is never going to take responsibility or make amends for them. Usually in real life I’d just be like 'good riddance!’ but this is fiction, lol, and despite this one major flaw Gordon truly is so valuable as a friend. But there’s no evidence to me that he ever really became one for Edward. Edward doesn’t hate him, I think sheer necessity and his capacity to understand others makes him genuinely fond of Gordon. But he doesn’t trust him, and because he doesn’t trust him he provokes Gordon to forever give him fresh reason to not trust him, and because of this no matter how well they can work together or chit chat this never becomes a mutually supportive relationship and, like… that’s sad. That’s real sad. By the end of TTRE I’m like ‘aww, this friendship could be cute.’ By the end of MLE I’m like ‘Family counseling, stat. Or just communicate solely through intermediaries for the rest of your life, that could work too.’ 

But Jobey. I don’t accept this. I imagine them as genuine friends and/or I straight-up ship them and LA LA LAAA I can’t heeeear youuuu. 

You’re perfectly welcome to do so, lol. I'd like to take a sad song and make it better, too. 

The one fortunate thing is that, after Main Line Engines, there is plenty of blank space where anyone can continue or add to the 2+4 story. I think one can plausibly fill in a happy ending. Gordon still has some character development after MLE. Edward doesn't, but I think he ought, and I can see a couple areas where he could. To make a happy ending for this dynamic convincing three things still do have to click into place. In no particular order: 

The narrative actually has to validate the good parts of Gordon's ethos (not the selfish parts - but the subversive/rebellious/engine autonomy parts) as a necessary complement to Edward's ethos.

Edward has to be willing to let himself be vulnerable in front of Gordon. 

Gordon needs to need Edward's help and then actually express gratitude afterwards. 

Shouldn't be too tough, honestly! The first has to be done by we the transformative-work fans; canon never did and never could. The third is especially easy because we do finally see Gordon doing this in Main Line Engines and again in his second book, High Speed Engine – it's just that both times it's with BoCo, lmao. Gordon's there. Gordon's ready. He just needs a plot point opportunity. To be honest the second is going to be the toughest nut to crack. Again, Edward is not shown to develop after MLE. For this dynamic, he's gonna have to. Just a smidge more. Unlike TVS, I don't think "Gordon is humbled" is going to be enough of a wandwave to make this right. I'm not interested in blame, I'm interested in them finding a groove that works for them. A relationship that doesn't need to make either of them smaller for it to work.

And it should be possible, to somehow get those boxes checked. Some factors are already very much in their favor: 

The Author is no longer sticking a mic in their smokeboxes and publishing the shit they say about each other every few years. 

We saw them have normal, comfortable interactions in 1952. We already know a level of mutual trust is possible.

Presumably more and more engines are coming to Sodor, making this older bond rarer and more important to them. 

They're good friends with each other's friends. 

Gordon's growth clearly takes some cues from Edward's example. Their outlooks are converging, not diverging.

(If we need to wait this long for something to facilitate this) Gordon getting knocked off the express in 2011 radically changed his lifestyle. 

So, I don't feel too despairing about this relationship. Hell, I kind of like to imagine that by the time the century turns they're able to laugh together and even mutually pitch caricatures of their old relationship missteps to the new writers lol. 

And their proposed smoothing-out and reconnection would have big thematic resonance. The early conflicts in canon often had to do with the Edward ethos and the Gordon ethos. Part of the reason those conflicts taper off is because both the characters mature, of course. But part of the reason is just that the external circumstances change. The world whole environment of the NWR changes, and when it does these two ethos are incorporated into a whole. They begin to merge and complement each other. Indeed, arguably a lot of the success of the railway's culture is because everyone figures out a way embrace both. Innit? I think so. And if you buy that interpretation (Awdry didn't, lol, but what does he know?) then this long and winding 2+4 road actually ends up as a very nice story. Best story never written, perhaps.

But, for all the promising signs for the post-MLE era, I would still love to see more fan content within the original RWS canon timeline that represents the high degree of textual tension between them (and uniquely between them) from the 1920s to the 1960s. It's messy as hell, I hate the discomfort and would-you-two-dumbasses-just-COMMUNICATE of it sooo much, at the same time it's extremely compelling. Very good food. Even if things have improved, I hope they're still sometimes Problematic and Passive-Aggressive. I hope newbies are occasionally stuck with them in the sheds when they trip over a sensitive old topic and these two oldies don't even look at each other but the temperature still drops like a falling snowcap and the most oblivious of the newbies is like "Uhh, guys? ? ? Real weird vibe in here!" 

And Henry and BoCo just look fuckin' exhausted, lmaoo. 

[sparkarrestor]

Henry The Green Engine 3: Trousers For Percy

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

Snow had come early to the Island of Sodor, and all the engines felt the chill.

“All I want is a warm boiler right about now!” Grumbled Henry, “Firelighter’s late!”

“I don’t think she’s late.” Said Percy, “The cold must have woke us up early. I wonder if the others are cold as well…”

“The firelighter at that end of the line lives only a few blocks down.” Sniffed Henry, “They probably feel all nice and warm while we’re freezing!”

The cold wind swirled around the sheds, making the engines shiver.

“I know!” Exclaimed Percy, “Why don’t we just think of something else?”

“Like how our funnel’s will turn to icicles?”

“No silly! Warm things like sunshine and steam and-”

“Fires?” Cut in Henry.

“Scarfs!” Continued Percy.

“Scarfs?” Laughed Henry, “That’s just what you need, little Percy, a lovely wool scarf around your funnel!”

Henry was only teasing, but Percy thought about nothing but scarves until the firelighter arrived.

He was still thinking of scarfs as he worked in the yard. He seemed to see them everywhere he looked.

“My Funnel’s cold! My funnel’s cold!” He puffed, “I want a scarf! I want a scarf!”

“Are you still on that Percy?” Huffed Henry, “Give it a rest! Engines don’t wear scarfs.”

“Engines with proper funnels do! You’ve only got a small one!”

Henry snorted. He quite liked his short, neat funnel.

“Well you better get to the station!”, he said at last, “I’ve a special to take, carrying the Fat Controller himself, and I don’t want it to be delayed by silly engines thinking of scarves!”

Percy harrumphed and puffed away to tend to the coaches.

The Fat Controller was at the station, talking to some important visitors. They had come on railway business, and the Fat Controller had even packed his special trousers for the occasion.

It was in a large case being carried across the line by two porters and a trolley. They were walking backwards to make sure nothing fell off. Henry was waiting nearby, dozing. Meanwhile, Percy was still upset about being called silly, and wanted to pay Henry out. Then, an idea flew into his smokebox.

“Oh yes!” He thought, “That’ll be great!”

Percy’s driver always shut off steam when entering the station. Percy wanted to use this to sneak up on Henry and give him a spook. He arrived at the station quietly. Too quietly. The porters didn’t hear him until it was too late, and they jumped clear as Percy approached.

“Horrors!” He shouted, and tried to apply his brakes, but his wheels slipped on the icy rails!

Henry jumped as Percy screeched past. The trolley disappeared under his wheels with a crunch.

Boxes and Bags flew everywhere.

‘Oooooooherrr” Groaned Percy as he stopped.

The two engines watched in horror as the contents flew up in the air, and down onto Percy. Sticky streams of jams and sauces trickled down his front. A familiar Top Hat hung on his lamp-iron. Hats, boots, shoes, skirts and blouses tangled on his footplate. Finally, a pair of grey trousers caught a gust of wind, and waffed in the air before coiling on Henry’s funnel. They were grey no longer! Angry passengers pointed and shouted at their broken luggage. Henry wheeeeeeshed crossly. The visitors whispered among themselves as the Fat Controller angrily strode up to Percy and seized his Top Hat.

“Mine!” He bellowed crossly, “Look what you’ve done!”

“Yes sir. I am sir.” Came the muffled reply.

“My best pair of trousers too!”

“Yes sir, Please sir, I-”

“I am most disappointed with you! We must pay for the damaged luggage, you’ve dented my top hat, and you’ve made a fool of this railway! All because you were coming into the station playing grandmothers steps!”

“Yes sir, but please sir,” Stammered Percy, “I wouldn’t have been grandmother-stepping if Henry didn’t tease me!”

Henry, who was watching the whole scene, stammered and was about to retort when the Fat Controller held up his hand.

“Percy, you shall stay like this for the rest of the day.” Said The Fat Controller, “And as for you, Henry, you shall keep your ‘scarf’. Maybe this will teach the both of you a lesson.”

Percy was filthy for the rest of the day. Everyone laughed at him, and the coaches smirked at him every time they passed by. Percy no longer plays games with the coaches, and sniffs at the idea of scarfs.

As for Henry, his “scarf” would stay tangled on his funnel until… oh, I mustn't say any more. I shall spoil the next story.

[sparkarrestor]

The story's also on A03 if you wanna be weird and read it on a website that actually is for fanfic.

[sparkarrestor]

Christmas Story

Haltraugh Station, November 30, 1984

“Late again…” Duck chided gently as Oliver rumbled in with the mid-day train. 

“Oh button it!” Oliver snapped from in-between Isabel and Dulcie. “I can’t help it if the train’s standing room only!” 

This was becoming a standard back-and-forth, and Duck rolled his eyes. “Ah well, at least it can’t get worse, eh?” he griped sarcastically. 

Oliver didn’t even dignify that with a response, and Dulcie sighed in relief as a large group of passengers departed en masse. 

In short order - although not short enough for Oliver’s already-late schedule - both trains set off down the single track line in opposite directions. It’s not even December yet! Duck thought to himself. Where on earth are these people going? 

It was a legitimate question. Over the years, the number of passengers had grown, but this year - specifically this Christmas, was well above average, and both engines were already feeling the strain. Trains were getting heavier and fuller, and the number of passengers trying to press in made each station stop take ages - and on top of all that, some days they now had to take extra coaches just to meet demand, which meant that they had to run around the train because they weren’t auto-coaches, which made them later still… It was a vicious cycle!

When Duck arrived at the big station, the Fat Controller was waiting for him, his pocket watch conspicuously on display. “Duck. Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon, sir.” Duck said, hoping the controller wouldn’t notice-

“Ten minutes behind time today.” Damn and blast. “Almost a record, albeit one we don’t want, hmm?”

“Sir…” Duck began, plaintive.

The man held up his hand, cutting him off. “No, no, I know.” He said, eyeing the stream of passengers departing the train. “Ticket sales are up almost twenty percent since the summer. I never thought we’d have too much of a good thing.”

“That,” Duck replied. “Is one way of describing it.”

Pocketing his watch, the Fat Controller sighed, leaning on his cane as he did so. “Don’t take this as an underestimation of your skills, but you and Oliver need help. Would another engine be of more use? Or just more coaches?”

Duck sagged in relief. “Oh goodness, both!” He said quickly. “There’s not enough of us to go around as it is. Donald and Douglas can’t help much, what with all their goods trains; and heaven forbid if we need to help them - it throws the entire day into chaos!” 

“I see.” The Fat Controller said seriously, just as the next group of passengers began to make their way out of the station building. “I will see what arrangements can be made. Expect something by tomorrow.”

Duck would have said something more, but the Fat Controller turned around, and was swallowed up by the crowd almost instantly. 

-------

The next morning, the Fat Controller’s ‘arrangements’ arrived, in the form of Bear, resplendent in shiny Western Region Green, and a rake of chocolate-and-cream Mark 1 coaches. This pleased Duck to no end, and Oliver found it all quite amusing. “It’s like we’ve gone back in time about twenty years!” He joked.

Bear smiled warmly. “That is not lost on me. Shall we make like our appearances and have this branch all ship-shape and Swindon fashion?”

And they did. It took most of the day, but with an extra set of buffers, and - mercy of mercy, more coaches - they were able to keep on the schedule all of Saturday, and were even able to put on an extra midday train for Sunday. 

It was enough to make an engine optimistic, and Oliver marveled at the lightened load on his buffers as he picked up a load of stone from the Small Railway. “It’s wonderful! He said to Rex. “We’re actually running to time. Who’d’ve thunk it?”

“Don’t say that!” the small engine hissed. “You’ll jinx it!” 

“Oh don’t be like that!” Oliver laughed. “Maybe it’ll be a Christmas miracle. Can’t jinx that!” And he chuffed away down the line. 

-

Rex took a passenger train up to the top of his line, came back, had a drink of water, and managed to goad Mike into taking a permanent way train instead of him by the time Oliver came back, several hours late, missing his autocoaches, and redder than a tomato.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled as his driver pulled him up to the water tower. 

Rex said nothing. 

“Of all the rotten luck!” Oliver grumbled anyway. “Bear gets called away on a train up to the mainland, and so I have to take his passengers - which is fine, but his coaches aren’t auto-fitted so I’ve got to run around them, and now Duck is stuck with all four of ours and I have to use the others which aren’t all day because we’re out of place. Of all the-grrrr!” He hissed angrily, steam billowing around him.

Rex and Bert looked at each other with barely concealed bemusement. Rex stayed mum, but as Oliver’s driver waved his arms in a futile attempt to clear the steam away, Bert raised an eyebrow sagely. “He did warn you about jinxing it.”

“GRRRRRRRRHHG!” Oliver vanished inside a cloud of his own steam. 

----------

Stephen Hatt entered his Father’s office. It felt somewhat strange to be in here - he’d spent most of his life in this place, but now that his father had announced he was planning to retire soon, the knowledge that it would be his made the entire room feel… odd. 

“Ah, Stephen, do come in.” His father said, staring intently at a precarious pile of wooden blocks. 

“You called for me?” He asked, before looking at the tower again. “And what is that?”

“It’s called Jenga.” His father said, carefully removing a block of wood from the base and placing it on the top. The tower wobbled unsteadily as he did so. “It’s a children’s game. You take the blocks from the bottom and put them on top. You lose if it falls down.”

“Why are you playing it?” 

“Your aunt knows the creator - I think they’re in the same ladies’ group -  and thought it would be a fun Christmas gift.” The tower wobbled again, and his father stilled himself for a moment to let it subside. “But I have also found it to be a thinking tool.”

“Thinking tool?”

“Yes.” Very slowly, another block was extracted from the bottom. “Churchill did something similar during the war, you know.” The block was deposited on the top. “He’d have a bucket of mortar and a pile of bricks and would build a wall in the back garden of Number 10 whenever he needed to relax.”

“Knowing what I do about Churchill, he seemed like an odd fellow.”

Another block was wrested free, and his father looked up from the tower. “I met him once. Had I been twenty years older, he and I would have been friends, I’m sure. Your Grandfather would definitely have been, had he gone into the military.” The block was deposited on the top, giving the tower a somewhat lopsided appearance. 

“I don’t know what that says about you and granddad then.”

“As you age, you must become eccentric on your own terms, lest it be thrust upon you against your will.” He looked up again. “Just think, I could be playing with dolls right now.” 

Stephen didn’t quite know what to say to that, and watched as another block was slowly pulled out. The entire structure seemed to be resting entirely on one block, and it was astounding that it hadn’t fallen down. “Did you call me in here to play with blocks, or was there something you wanted?”

“Ah yes.” His father put the block down on top, and once the tower had stopped wobbling, addressed him. “What do you think we should do about the Little Western?”

Ah. It suddenly made sense. “We need another engine.” 

“That sounds wonderfully simple.” His father left the tower, and began rooting around a large cardboard mailing box that was in a corner of the room, eventually producing a much smaller one labeled JENGA: THE PERPETUAL CHALLENGE. “Do we just ring up the Midland region and ask for one?” 

“Honestly? Yes.” He said. “Simple is sometimes the best.” 

“And you’re sure they’ll have one that can fit down that little branch?”

“Oh, it’s not for the branch.” 

That brought his father’s head up. “Oh?” 

He took a seat on the plush visitor chairs, careful not to disturb the desk or the tower. “The Little Western needs an extra engine for peak services - preferably a small mixed traffic engine - and we have three such engines - four, if you count James.”

“The other three being the Twins and Bear, I assume?” 

“Mmhm.” He watched as his father tried reaching into the little Jenga box, before eventually turning it upside down. A small piece of paper - probably the instructions - fluttered out. “The problem is that when we’re in a situation where an engine like Henry is being overhauled, our mixed traffic engines are the first to be called to cover for him.”

“So you propose we need another dedicated mixed traffic engine?” his father said, unfurling the little piece of paper. 

“I certainly think so.”

“Hmm.” His father made a noise as he inspected the instructions. “That would make more sense.”

“What?” 

“This is a two player game.”

“It took you this long to realize?”

“Mmhm. Why don’t you pull a block?”

“Seriously?” 

“Yes. I’ve seen how high your eyebrows have raised. You have a go at it then.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, and went for a block at random. The tower wobbled, and stilled his hand. 

“Are you sure that bringing in a new mixed traffic engine would solve the problem?” His father chose that moment to get back on topic. 

“What?” Stephen asked as he hunted for a block that wasn’t so precarious. “Yes. Another engine on the main would ease traffic there when it’s not on Little Western.” Aha. There was a loose block, and he pulled it out and set it on top with a minimum of wobbling. 

“And what happens when traffic picks up on both?” His father strode over and plucked a block out of the second from the bottom row with almost no effort. “Christmas doesn't happen only in Arlesburgh, you know.” 

Stephen goggled as his father set the block on top with a plink, the tower not even moving a little. “You’re cheating, and you know something. Out with them both.”

“I can’t cheat physics,” His father’s eyes were fucking twinkling. “And everything I know, you know. You just haven’t put it together yet.” 

“What would I do then?” Stephen asked as he pulled on another seemingly-loose block, wondering how on earth his father came up with this insane idea for a metaphor. “Do you think London would give us any engine that wasn’t a right terror? They’d have Oliver jumping at shadows within a fortnight.” The block he pulled at was stuck fast, and he had to go for another. “And I don’t think we can just go down to Dai Woodham and buy a steam engine off him - not unless we want to do it out of pocket.” The tower wobbled as he set the block on top, but it held. 

“No, I don’t think we could do that.” His father admitted, as he ran his finger down one side of the tower, looking for loose blocks. “But, you are on the right track.”

“What? Is there a steam engine you know about? How could we get it?” 

“As a matter of fact, there is.” There was a single block remaining at the bottom of the tower, and with a dramatic flourish, his father pulled it out. 

The entire tower dropped down vertically onto the surface of the desk with a clack, but didn’t fall over. 

Ignoring his son’s agog look, Charles Hatt smiled beatifically and placed the block atop the tower. “Sometimes, the best move is not the most obvious.” 

Stephen was still speechless, and Charles took the time to walk back over to the mailing box. “You know, Barbara didn’t only send me that Jenga game. She actually heard about it when discussing another game her friend was making.” He hefted out a much larger box - it was green, with gold lettering on it. “This one isn’t even sold yet, but she was very kind to send us a pre-production copy.”

“Great Western Railway Game?” Stephen read the box. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

His father responded by opening up the box and producing a few game cards. They were rough around the edges, clearly hand-cut; a pre-production sample, it seemed. He moved over to the desk and laid them out in front of Stephen. “We already have some pieces.” 

The first card said “Paddington” and had a picture of a 57xx on it. 

The next card said “Salisbury” and had… was that Oliver? It was. Looking at the first card showed that it actually was Duck on it. 

“Where are you going with this?” Stephen asked. 

“I,” His father said with infuriating placidity, “Am not going anywhere with this. You, however, might do well to go to Crovan’s Gate later.” He put down the last card. “Truro” was emblazoned on the top, a City class engine underneath. 

The pieces suddenly fell into place for Stephen. “You’re an irritating old man who speaks in riddles.” He told his father as a bewildered grin spread across his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“Because come January I won’t be here to tell you.” His father said, placing the cards on the desk's cluttered surface. “This will all be yours to command, however you choose.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” Stephen stood, collecting his coat. “And I should go now, to make those arrangements.”  He made it almost to the door, before he stopped. “You know, it’s not January yet.” 

“And?” 

He motioned to the abandoned Jenga tower. “Two player game?” 

Charles Hatt smiled broadly. “I’d be honored.” 

With that, two generations of Fat Controller - one current, and one future - stepped out of the office, headed towards the platforms. 

Behind them, the slamming of the door caused the Jenga tower to collapse, sending blocks scattering across the desk, and burying the engine cards. 

-------------

Later that night, the Fat Controller met Duck at the big station. From several platforms away, Gordon couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell that it was important - perhaps Oliver was finally being told the importance of being on time? 

A jaw-dropped expression turned into a giddy smile, one that threatened to crack Oliver’s smokebox clean in half. Clearly something juvenile, and Great Western (which was assuredly the same thing).

Curiosity now assuaged, Gordon put the strange workings of Western Tank Engines out of his mind, and thought nothing more about it. 

A few minutes later, Duck steamed in with the next train. He pulled up right next to Oliver, who immediately began babbling about whatever the Fat Controller had said. 

Again, Gordon pointedly ignored them, until Duck yelled so loud that he could be heard over the general din of the station, and then whistled for so long that his driver had to take him outside, thinking that something was wrong with the whistle! 

Finally, when the uproar ended, James found time to speak up. “What was that all about?” 

Gordon sighed. “I don’t know, but I imagine that we will find out in short order whether we like it or not.”

[sparkarrestor]

Henry The Green Engine 2: Whistles & Sneezes

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

Gordon was cross one night at the sheds.

“I’ve pulled expresses for years!” He said, “But do I get anything for it? No! But Henry here makes us cover for his work until he gets his special coal, and now he can’t stop saying how happy he is!”

“Not to mention I was the one that actually fetched it…” Muttered James.

“Coal good enough for me is good enough for him!” Continued Gordon, “ And another thing too, Henry whistles far too much! No respectable engine whistles loudly at stations. It isn’t wrong, but we just don’t do it.”

Henry wasn’t feeling very happy anymore, and looked towards his buffers.

“Nevermind them.” Whispered Percy, “I like your whistling! Don’t let those two oafs get you down!”

That made Henry feel a little better.

The next day, Henry was being steamed up. He felt great, and whistled without really meaning too. Nobody minded except Gordon.

“Remember what I said about whistling!” He called as he left for the station.

Later on, Henry took a passenger train, and presently stopped at Edward’s station.

“Hullo Henry!” Said Edward, “You’re here early.”

“I thought a faster run would help me get in better spirits.” Replied Henry, and he told Edward what Gordon had said.

“Pay no mind to him.” Sniffed Edward, “He’s just jealous. I think it’s great that you’re feeling better, and the rest of us enjoy your happy whistling.”

“Oh, thank you Edward!” Smiled Henry.

On the contrary, Gordon wasn’t smiling. He was still grumbling about Henry as he rocketed down the line.

“I could be going faster than ever!” He snorted, “But that special coal is just for Henry and no one else, not even the pride of the line. Pah!”

And he picked up speed as he rounded a bend and approached a bridge. Some boys were stood on it. Gordon and his crew didn’t take much notice until…

“Oof!” cried Gordon as stones cascaded on his boiler. He whistled in fury and was just about to yell when he found out he couldn’t stop whistling. The stones had damaged something, and he was stuck whistling fit to burst. He was purple in the boiler as he sped down the hill at a tremendous speed. He paid no mind to Edward or Henry as he passed by the station and disappeared into the Horizon.

“...It isn’t wrong…” said Henry quietly, “But we just don’t do it.”

Meanwhile, Gordon screeched along the line, causing mayhem at every turn. People ran out of their houses thinking it was an air raid, 5 fire brigades got ready to go out, and old ladies dropped their parcels. At the big station the noise was awful. Passengers ran for cover as the Fat Controller came up. He barked orders but no one could hear him until he was right in their face.

“Take him away!” He bellowed at last, “And stop that noise!”

Gordon slunk away sadly. He whistled across the points, he whistled in the yard, and he was still whistling when a pair of fitters came to mend him. Gordon winced at the large hammer one was holding. They climbed on top of his boiler, and hammered his whistle valve until it was back in place. There was silence.

“They’ll never let me hear the end of this…” muttered Gordon.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you!” said his driver, who could only hear ringing.

Back on the mainline, Henry was in high spirits.

“Silly old Gordon, whistling loudly. And at a station, no less!” He chuckled as he approached a bridge. The boys were still there, and Henry spotted them.

“Trainspotters, how lovely. They might take down my number!” Thought Henry.

“Peep! Peep! Hullo!” He called, “Peep! Pe-Woosh!”

The boys dropped more stones on him. They bounced off his boiler, hit the fireman on his head, and even hit the carriages.

“What a shame! What a shame!” Hissed Henry, “Fresh paint, too!’

“They’ve broken our glass! They’ve broken our glass!” sobbed the coaches.

They stopped the train to check over Henry and see if any passengers were hurt. The Driver got out the first-aid box and began to bandage the fireman’s head while he and Henry discussed a plan. None of the passengers were hurt, but they were all angry. They told the fireman what he could for his head and looked at Henry’s paint.

“Call the police!” They all shouted.

“Don’t worry about that!” Said the Driver, “Me and Henry can pay them out!”

“How?”

“This new coal burns great, but leaves extra ash in my smokebox” Said Henry, “If enough gets built up, it’ll block my tubes.”

“Henry’s fire draws in air and puffs it out through his tubes with smoke and steam, then up and out his chimney. If we puff hard enough with all those ashes blocking the tubes then…”

The driver trailed off. One of the passengers spoke up.

“So… you’ll sneeze on them?”

Henry and his driver just smiled.

Henry started the train again and reached the terminus. He had to work extra hard to make up for lost time. He rested, and then took the train back. The fireman shoveled lots of coal and Henry worked harder. A group of people were waiting at the station before the bridge. They wanted to see how this would go.

“Henry has lots of ashes!”, announced the Driver, “Please keep all windows shut until the next station, please!”

He turned to Henry.

‘You ready, old boy?”

Henry was too stuffed up to reply, but he gave a wink, like this.

The guard blew his whistle, and Henry started off. They soon came up to the bridge, and there were the silly boys, stones in hand.

“Ready…” whispered the Driver, “Ready… Ready… Now!”

“Atisha, Atisha, Achoooooooooo!!!!”

Smoke and steam and ashes spewed from his funnel. They went all over the bridge, and all over the boys. They ran away, as black as tar.

“Well done Henry!”, Laughed his Driver, “Those boys won’t be causing trouble again!”

“I imagine so!” puffed Henry, “But my paint…”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll clean you off and touch you up tonight, then you’ll be good as new!”

Henry no longer sneezes under bridges. The Fat Controller gave him a half-hearted earful about it.  His smokebox is always cleaned out at the yard. Now, he’s gone under more bridges than he can count, and there are never any silly boys with stones.