#tc lrau Stirling N. 1 “Ferris”

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 5, Exhibition | TC-LRAU

The New Hall would fill with the sounds of conversation and excitement faster than building it, another year, another round of visitors from all over the region, every spot in there would be filled with all sorts of steam engines.

Each batch of engines that came would represent the railway they’re currently owned by, the more well-known ones coming to the exhibition.

All kinds of steam engines there; from narrow to standard gauge, and from 19th century to new builds, a big and broad roster of engines.

But before we get to them, we’ll focus our attention on the person who’d tap their mic twice lightly, clearing their throat as they caught the attention of the spread out crowd.

“If I could have most of your attention, visitors and contributors, old and new, I’d like to thank you all for coming here to see another moment of history in motion.”

The man started, as the sounds coming from the crowd would die down as he spoke.

“I am honoured to be passed down with the role my father, Seth Harken once had. Continuing the legacy of, not just of his love for engines of all types and how much he's done for both engines and humans, but his own personal legacy. To all of us, including myself.”

His gaze softening, he'd straighten his posture as his grip on the microphone tightened. Taking a quick glance at his watch.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

“But, in his words, let the hour begin!”

Tock.

As a cacophony of whistles blasted in the air, echoing across the halls, the event would officially be in full motion.

——

“Why so worried, dear sister?” Came the comforting voice of the Stirling Single, N. 1, separating himself from the group consisting of Flying Scotsman and Black 5s, glancing curiously at his younger sister.

To which said younger sister would flinch at the sudden call, her train of thought breaking. Though glancing at him with a warm smile once she recognized who it was.

“Ferris, hello.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Milly, what's the matter? Is it those Midlanders again?”

She'd chuckle softly at such a claim.

“You say that as if you weren't mingling with those Black 5s, dear brother,” she says as she glances at said Black 5s, overhearing their conversations mixed with jabs at each other and general gossip, not dying down a single bit considering the Flying Scotsman was practically the host of that session.

“Well, I wasn't exactly mingling. I was simply offering up advice.”

“Advice about mentoring the newest edition to the LBSCR? It seems your reputation as a mentor yourself is still kept up, well, you're more like a fath–”

“Oh hush, they'll hear us!” Ferris’ face would flush with red a bit in embarrassment, reversing into the buffers behind him as Emily held in a laugh, even with the decades that flew by, she still wondered why he hid things like this from those he loved.

She will admit, even if it was rare, he tends to be quite the silly engine when being straightforward about his clear affection towards all the engines hes taken under his wing, or cab, and right now is one of her favourite examples.

She’s seen how much he’s rubbed off on the Atlantic, they’re practically father and son as the humans say. It’s quite heart warming, like how some of the shunters back before the grouping era had picked up on Ferris’ mannerisms. It’s very amusing.

“I know that look of yours Milly, what’re you planning to pull on me now?”

“Oh please, if you had known said look, you would’ve known it wasn’t that.”

“Then what on Lady’s name are you plotting in that scandalous mind of yours?” He jabbed jokingly at her, though would be met with an Emily who’d gaze out in front of her thoughtfully.

“But not in a Great Western manner, it is similar to how the humans would cope with lost. If you recall how my fireman in the 80s had coped with the news of his aunt’s unfortunate passing with his religious beliefs as I recall, then it is similar to how I’m thinking now.”

‘Well,” she sighed before she started. “I suppose it’s just the faint yet vivid presence of our siblings, our colleagues.”

“Ah.”

“I see.”

In all honesty, she didn’t mean to drag down the mood this quickly, but she can’t exactly help it.

Looking back at it all. It’s most likely the toughest run to have experienced, from speeding through the glorious sight that was the River Trent to then having to take in all the neglect the rest of them had to face. Though thankfully it was willingly, since the remaining of them had agreed to it before being locked away-

“Well, I suppose I’ll place down that note for myself.”

“If it helps, Emily, I could recommend a relief crew from the Mid-Norfolk. They’ve been quite the help for myself and mostly to others, an example being that Thompson.”

“Mayflower?”

“Yes, him. He’s been in need of it for quite a while from the looks of it, I will admit.”

“Just contact my crew with yours, ask for a Mr. Onix, and they’ll come right away. Though it will depend on how far and busy they are when you do so.”

“I see-”

The sudden buzz of a radio would echo in Emily’s cab, her firebox starting to warm up again as her fireman threw coal inside it. Good gosh, why did it have to be now?

“Well, I bid you farewell for now, Ferris. I hope to see you soon after this run.”

“Same goes to you dear sister!” He replied as the both tooted both of their whistles at eachother, watching Emily leave with a wheesh of steam.

——

“Now that was a blast!”

“A blast of whistles you mean!”

The three would burst into laughter as they arrived at their designated spots within the new hall.

A little flow of people would form around them, murmurs of conversations blurring together and curious people eyeing them in either surprise or admiration, or both! Either way, the engines would simply chat among themselves as if they were the only ones in the room.

Though there would be one engine in between those atmospheres, st always taking a glance behind them, as if waiting for something. Something, someone.

Time moving slower than a tank engine trying to pull an express consisting of eight full coaches on their own.

It was painful, in simple words. It was crawling from the back of their mind to consume their thoughts. 

Not the greatest thoughts to go through your mind during a wonderful time like this.

No, no. They just need to be calm. He's received the overhaul, he's been checked out, hell you were there in some of those sessions, he'll be fine.

Just enjoy the moment, enjoy the momen-

“Nadi?”

They'd snap out their train of thought, looking to wherever the voice came from, to which they'd get a bit embarrassed at. Well shit.

“Yea- Ah, what is it?”

“You were staring at that 9F, the Black Prince, are you okay?”

“Well, Betto-”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

“The fuck? No, of course not!” Nadi’s smoke deflectors slid back as they glanced at Lyd, as she rolled beside them on the narrow-gauge tracks next to the standard-gauge tracks the three were on, quite baffled at this sudden claim. Considering how the Black Prince is more of a brother than a lover, it was odd.

Though they couldn't exactly blame Lyd, Nadi doesn't talk about other engines much often, other than the ones they usually speak of.

“Besides, why would I have a crush on him?!”

“Well, why would the Flying Scotsman have a crush on that King Arthur class? Hmm?”

“Okay fair point, but stil-”

Suddenly, a familiar whistle would blast through the atmosphere, cutting off the four's conversation. Considering their brakes would be applied by their crews, Lyd would reverse to see who it’d be.

Though as she did, her eyes widened in surprise as she took a glance at their nameplate, now recognizing who it was.

“Oh, Leslie!”

——

Oh how loud it was here, well, at least it wasn’t as chaotic as Sodor. It’s just louder than it.

He’d reverse into the coaches behind him as the shunter behind them uncoupled from the coaches and let out a little “peep!” of a whistle, to which he’d whistle back at them.

As he glanced to the sign that read-

“We’re at Redworth! No- No, I’m not fucking with you I’m serious!”

“Sounds like she’s fucking with you, old chap.”

He will admit, he did miss them. He missed how comforting they were to him, that light feeling that swirled in his firebox whenever he interacted with him. It was an odd feeling, in a good way, and it seems to run in their family as the same feeling has started to resurface in recent years since the 2000s started.

“You’re older than me!”

Gordon would hold in his laughter as he heard his crew jab at each other a bit. The two have been with him for about, nearly a decade as he recalls. Wow. Though they’ve technically been with him for nearly two, since they go back into the late 90s as his crew. Being the brother and cousin of his crew before them.

As much as he’d like to go into detail of this feeling, he just couldn’t find the right words to. It was similar to this feeling he had felt before, it was the bond between him and his siblings, though that didn’t fully match up with what this odd, swirly feeling he felt with them, with his crews.

Though unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to further his research and guesses into it as the sound of a whistle blasted through the air, his hearing being pierced like a bullet shooting through paper. As he glanced to his left, the whistle would be muffled as it fades out by the sound of pistons pumping, surprised at who it is as his eyes widened.

“Hello there, little brother.”

“Ah, ah. That’s my phrase, little brother.”

“A phrase that’s originated from me, Scotsman, or would you like me to refer to you as one of the elderly considering your memory might not be working too well?”

Scotsman would slide back his smoke deflectors, revealing his jokingly ‘offended’ look as he took a glance at Gordon.

“Oh says the one who’s beyond a century old!”

“You’ve literally just become a century old, little brother. And you do represent a century.”

“Oh fuck off," he muttered jokingly, unconsciously letting his american accent slip out as it mixed with his natural one.

After a slight pause between the two, they’d burst into light laughter as they sped down the line side by side, blasting their whistles in a duet as they wheeshed steam, doing what they love. Their purpose.