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the-rewritten-railway-au · 10 months ago

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The Two Smallest Engines

May 1930

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 3,543

Since the end of the 1920 Locomotive Crisis Loan, the North Western Railway has been struggling to continue operation with its five engines. Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II makes a big decision: purchase a tank engine for the railway.

On a sunny afternoon, Edward, the smallest engine on the North Western, was working in Tidmouth Yard. He was chatting with Emily, who was slightly larger than him. The smallest of the two was waiting to be uncoupled from a train of empty trucks when a grand blue tender engine rolled into the yard with-

"A goods train, a goods train! The shame of it! Oh, the shame of it!" he complained. His voice boomed throughout the yard, reaching the station.

The pair of smaller engines sighed, annoyed. "For guidness sake, it's no yon most shameful thin’ ye're doin, Gordon!" Edward reprimanded as he looked at the express passenger engine. "Ye ken thon we've been havin’ more guids trains every year."

"And why can't James take them? Wasn't he bought for that reason?"

"He wiz," replied Edward, "but traffic has grown more than expectit since, especially durin’ the summer season."

Gordon huffed.

"Oh, get over it!" called out the Stirling Single. "You didn't have a problem with it before. What's so different now?"

"Other engines did most of the goods work," replied Gordon. "You should've been glad that was the case back then."

"How come?" She squinted suspiciously.

"You're very outdated, Emily," he sneered. "Old, weak, and slow. Those large wheels of yours are nothing but an inconvenience to your performance."

Emily gasped, and her face scrunched up in fury. "I-!"

"Wrap it, both o' ye," scolded Edward. He looked at the larger cerulean engine. "Start headin’ tae the station, Gordon. I'll shunt the Express coaches in a moment." He looked over to the GNR green engine. "Emily, yer guids train is ready. Please, jist git tae it."

Emily sighed. She wheeshed, a final blow towards Gordon, before leaving to pick up her goods train.

Gordon huffed, heading to the station to wait for the Express coaches. "Once the new engine arrives, I better not keep pulling them."

Edward froze. "New engine?" he exclaimed, rolling forward. "Whit new engi- Och!" He suddenly jerked back, having not been uncoupled yet. The little tender engine quickly shot an apologetic smile to the workman who had approached him with a shunter's pole.

Once Edward was uncoupled, Gordon continued. "He bought a new engine. Might replace you or one of the others."

His nose twitched. "Excuse me-?"

"Wouldn't be surprised, especially with James when we all found out about his wooden brakes."

"That doesn’t make me useless!" someone exclaimed.

Suddenly, James screeched to a halt into the yard. Gordon and Edward halted as they neared the track the black tender engine rolled on.

"James…" muttered Gordon.

"I'll have you know, my brakes work just fine! My stops are much better than any of yours."

"Oh, but at what cost?" he asked mockingly. "What about that black cloud coming from your brakes the other day?"

The ex-L&YR Class 28 huffed. "I may not be as 'grand' as you," he replied, avoiding the question. "But I'm bigger and stronger than the smaller two," he finished with a prideful smirk directed at the smallest engine.

Edward could only be unamused.

"You may be stronger but you're barely any bigger,” argued Gordon. “Your ego is, though, by a long shot."

James jerked his smokebox door open. Steam blasted out and spread throughout the surrounding area. Fuming and scrunching up his face in fury, he glared and wheeshed steam at Gordon.

"James, could ye please move along?" asked Edward, not wanting to have to separate the pair if needed. He wasn’t sure what happened between them. Five years ago, they got along just fine, minus the minor disagreement. "Gordon, jist go wait at the station. I'll be there with the Express coaches."

"But-" said Gordon.

"Go. Noo,” he repeated sternly.

Just as he expected, both engines grumbled. Once James shut his smokebox door, both larger engines left.

“My brakes work just as good as yours!” He heard James holler at Gordon in vain.

Edward wheeshed the very little steam he could and sighed before he fetched the Express coaches.

…

Days went by as the engines waited for the newcomer but there was no sign or announcement about them. While the others didn't think much about it, Edward would occasionally look around as he worked in the yard, hoping to catch sight of the new engine. Unaware of his crew, Charlie and Sidney were humored by his behavior.

A few weeks later, a tank engine rolled into Tidmouth Yard. He peered around the yard, looking for something, or someone. His new crew let him do his thing, as they were informed by the previous crew that this particular engine liked to get to know his surroundings.

"Tidmouth, Tidmouth, Tidmouth…" he murmured.

Earlier, at the crack of dawn, he asked his crew not to show him the way to his final destination once they reached the Vicarstown Drawbridge. There was no ship available from Southampton Docks to the Island of Sodor, not until August, so he was sent by land. Once the ex-LBSCR E2 reached the bridge, he was bored so he challenged himself.

He was really regretting it now.

Suddenly, a loud shrill rang throughout the yard. The lost newcomer was startled, trembling on his six-driving wheels.

The little tank engine frowned. What a way to welcome some-engine, he thought with a huff.

An engine came from the turn up ahead. "Hey, you!" he exclaimed and laughed.

"Bloody hell, ya bloke!" the little engine exclaimed. "Some manners ya have."

"Alright, sheesh! I didn't mean to frighten you like that."

"Of course, you didn't."

"Well, I didn't!" James exclaimed, in a "matter-of-fact" tone. "You seem lost. Where are you heading?"

Meanwhile, Edward was being uncoupled from a set of giggling Troublesome Trucks, having played with them for a bit, when he overheard them.

"Tidmouth!" A voice, unknown to Edward, exclaimed. "Do ya know where it is?

Edward stilled and stayed quiet, quickly shushing the Troublesome Trucks. Surprisingly, not to him, they listened.

"But you're already in Tidmouth!" chuckled James. "Where are you from?"

"The Southern Railway. All the way down south in Brighton." He eyed James quizzically. "What's up with your eyes? Why are they different colors? Did something happen? Were they like that since ya were built-?"

As the engine continued to ramble on and James fumed, Edward gasped. He whispered excitedly, "Bertram's new engine!" The elder blue tender engine whistled as he backed up slowly. Charlie, his driver, gently pet his outer cab and chuckled along with the fireman, Sidney, seeing the excitement of their cerulean engine.

Once Edward backed up to line up to James and saw the new engine, he was shocked and gasped.

The new engine was tiny. He had no tender, his coal box being right behind the cab on the back of the engine. The little engine had a short stumpy dome, a short stumpy funnel, and six small, blue wheels, but they was as tall as he and James were. A normal tank engine, Edward realized.

His livery was a pale brown, Khaki, Edward figured, with white lining. The letters "SR" and the number 107 with a small B above it were painted white on the side of his tanks. His eyes were dark teal, looking around the yard excitedly as he rambled on.

"...I've heard so many things about Sodor. What's it-" The new engine noticed Edward, who was slightly smaller than James, staring at him. "Hello? Is something the matter?" He scrunched up his face, looking at his round nose. "Do I have soot on my face?"

"Och, whit? Naw, naw… It's jist… ye're… small," said Edward awkwardly, slightly confused and still shocked.

"No, I'm not," huffed the E2, annoyed. "I was one of the larger shunters on the Southern Railway!"

"Oh really?" James teased.

"Well, I was big enough to do my job just fine in Victoria and London.” Maybe too big… “I can do the same here!" the tank engine fumed and he moved along.

"Wait, wait! Thon's no how I meant it!" Edward quickly chuffed backward. "It's jist… ye're very different tae everyane else… I huvnae seen a wee tank engine like ye in years."

The little khaki tank engine huffed again. "I may be a 'wee' tank engine, ‘sir,’ but I'm very hardworking!" he expressed pridefully.

"S-Sir?" Edward exclaimed, startled and flustered as he saw James backing up with boisterous laughter.

“Old…” murmured James.

Edward’s glare was all in vain.

Suddenly, Gordon thundered into the shunting yard. He came to a halt with a whistle and laughed. "And who are you?"

"I'm Thomas," the khaki tank engine puffed pridefully. “Your director named me!”

"The new engine!" Edward emphasized with excitement as James reversed, stopping right next to Edward.

"Oh dear," the grand express engine mourned mockingly. "The Fat Director must've made a terrible mistake. I think he was expecting someone really… useful."

"I am useful," Thomas huffed. He didn't like this grand blue engine. He didn’t feel welcome. So full of himself. So disrespectful when he’d only just arrived!

Edward noticed and felt guilty for Thomas, especially for his own words. He hadn't even introduced himself properly.

Gordon laughed dismissively. "For fetching coaches, perhaps. Oh well. If you stick around long enough, you might be lucky enough to see me pulling the Express,” he boasted before he whistled and departed. "That will be a fine sight for you."

Thomas glared at the Gresley experimental Pacific as he passed by. "Without me, he wouldn't have an Express to pull," he muttered and rolled his eyes. He didn't like him at all.

Edward sighed. "I'm sorry aboot Gordon. I'm afraid he's like thon." He inched forward. "I'm sorry for whit I said earlier. I dinnae mean any offense tae ye. Where were ma manners… I'm Edward."

“And I'm James,” introduced the larger mixed-traffic engine, following Edward.

Another voice spoke from a distance. "Hello there, hello!"

"And there's the Fat-"

"Sir Topham Hatt!" Edward forced a smile as James scoffed at him, muttering “Rude.”

"Hello there!" A short, well-dressed, chubby man exclaimed as he and his assistants approached the newcomer. He was excited to see Thomas once again. "I’m glad you three made it safely. Welcome to the North Western Railway, Thomas," said Sir Topham Hatt II with pride, gesturing to the surrounding area. "Pardon me for the introduction a few days ago. I am Sir Topham Hatt, the director of this fine railway. You will become a great addition to the place. I expect you to do very well as Edward will be mentoring you."

"Of course, sir!" replied Thomas.

"Alright then. Go on with your work! I shall be checking up on your progress now and then for the first week," exclaimed Sir Topham Hatt II. He dismissed the engines before walking away with his two assistants.

Once Sir Topham Hatt II was gone, Edward said, "He's right. The others will be arriving soon."

"Fine, fine," huffed James as he rolled away from the yard, heading to the Main Line.

"Where's he going?" Thomas asked.

"Tae Brendam Docks, I presume," Edward replied. "He diz'nae hae any passenger duties until later."

"Passenger duties?" Thomas flipped his smokebox door open and looked at James. "Isn't he a goods engine?"

"Well, his class was meant for goods trains…" Edward replied and hummed. "Things are different here."

Thomas thought for a moment. "Will I be able to do that?"

Edward hummed. "Maybe. But right noo, ye need tae focus oan whit I need tae teach ye during your trainin."

"And what are we going to start with?"

"Shuntin."

"Shunting? My class was practically built to shunt."

"Well, it diz'nae hurt tae practice, especially in a new railway. No everything is the same as oan the Mainland."

"Really? How come?"

"The Troublesome Trucks ur more tedious and difficult tae deal wit, thon's ane thin'. And the yards ur much smaller here than oan the Mainland, if ye take a quick look around. And this yard is the largest oan Sodor, besides Vicarstown," Edward replied. "Give me a moment, I need tae git the Express coaches ready for Gordon. I'll be back in a bit."

Thomas hummed in response as Edward chuffed away. The steam shunter looked around, examining the yard. It was much smaller than the ones in the Southern Railway. It was slightly smaller than the smallest yard in the Southern Railway.

"How much smaller is the smallest yard here?" he mumbled to himself.

He chuffed around Tidmouth Yard, struggling with the tight turns. Hopefully, Edward and others didn’t take notice. He didn’t need to be reminded of how troublesome his performance was. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that he performed this way.

As Thomas wandered about, he heard two voices. His eyes followed the sound, eventually landing on two auburn passenger coaches, tucked away neatly in what appeared to be a carriage shed.

"I'm worried about James' brakes, Annie. Honestly, I smell nothing but ash whenever he brakes!" The coach with the name "Clarabel" painted in white on their sides whispered.

Annie, the other coach with her name painted on as well, replied, "So do I, Clarabel! It bothers me so much. I do hope the Fat Director figures something out…"

The two auburn coaches were unaware of the khaki shunter looking at them. From his own experience, coaches could either be sweet with reasonable sternness or absolutely hostile. There was no in-between, just a game of chance when it came to them. He nervously approached them as he felt lonely. "Hello there.”

Annie and Clarabel suddenly went quiet. "Who was that, Annie?" the latter asked.

"It's a new engine! Hello there, little one!"

Thomas huffed. "I'm not little!"

The pair giggled at the newcomer’s fussiness. "What's your name? You must be new around here," said Clarabel.

"I am! My name is Thomas," Thomas replied. "I'm from the Southern Railway."

"Hello, Thomas. I’m Annie," said Annie.

"And I'm Clarabel," Clarabel greeted.

"And we are the Ffarquhar Branch Line’s coaches," they said in unison.

"Figures," said Thomas. “I don’t think two coaches can handle mainline passenger service.”

"Smart, smart!" said Clarabel.

"Indeed," said Annie but froze as she noticed a familiar face through Thomas' front cab window. "Mr. Perkins?"

"Mr. Perkins?" exclaimed Clarabel.

"Mr. Perkins?" asked Thomas, confused.

A soft chuckle came from Thomas' cab. His driver, Gilbert Perkins, popped his head out of the cab. "Hello, you two. It's been a while!"

"Hello, Mr. Perkins!" greeted the auburn coaches.

Thomas was confused. "You know each other?"

"Oh, of course, we do!" exclaimed Annie.

"He was our old engine's driver," giggled Clarabel.

Just then, Edward returned.

"I'm back, Thomas!" Edward exclaimed as he chuffed into the yard. The elder blue tender engine took notice of the scene. "Och, I see ye've met Annie and Clarabel- Mr. Perkins?" he exclaimed.

"Hello there, Edward!" replied Mr. Perkins.

Edward flabbergasted. "Ye-"

"Looks like I’m a permanent driver from now on!" he exclaimed with excitement. “Can’t wait to work with this fella,” he continued, petting Thomas' cab, who laughed at the interaction. “Nice to see you’re doing well, old boy.” With that, Mr. Perkins popped right back into the tank engine’s cab.

"Oh, hello, Edward!" said Clarabel. "You're guiding Thomas, right?"

"Be sure to teach him well, Edward!" Annie exclaimed.

"Please do!" continued Clarabel, before dropping her voice down to a whisper. "And maybe James while you're at it."

"Noo, I dinnae ken aboot thon last ane, but I will try, ma'ams. Noo, git some rest. It will be a while before James comes back," Edward replied, reminding the two auburn coaches.

Annie and Clarabel hummed in reply.

"We shall chat some other time then!" exclaimed Annie.

"Indeed! It was a pleasure meeting you, Thomas," said Clarabel.

"Goodbye, Thomas! Goodbye, Edward!" The two sister coaches exclaimed before getting some shut-eye.

"Goodbye!" the two engines replied. They puffed away as quietly as they could from the carriage shed.

Once they were far away enough, Thomas asked, "So, where do we start?"

"Wit’ the regular freight trucks!" replied Edward.

…

Edward and Thomas spent the rest of the afternoon shunting. Though Thomas grew a bit exhausted, that didn't mean he had no energy to be cheeky.

During the late afternoon, Gordon was resting in the yard. Thomas was beside Edward, resting from the day's work when the little khaki tank engine noticed.

Thomas sneaked up on Gordon on the track next to him as Edward looked at him, confused. He was shocked when Thomas' whistle shrilled throughout the yard.

The loud noise startled Gordon awake as Thomas exclaimed, "Wake up, lazy-bones! Why don't you be as useful as me!" Cheeky laughter tumbled off his tongue as he raced away.

Edward couldn't help but laugh at the little tank engine's cheekiness, following him and leaving behind an annoyed Gordon.

…

Evening approached when Emily pulled into Tidmouth Yard. Thomas noticed her, in awe of her shape. She looked very different from the other engines. "Who's that?" he asked with curiosity as he backed away from a few trucks.

Edward followed suit from the train of empty cars, lining buffer to buffer to Thomas on a different track. "Thon's Emily," he replied. "She's the ane wha pulls the mornin’ Wild Nor' Wester."

“The what?”

“The Express.”

“Really? She-”

The Stirling Single’s whistle shrilled throughout the area, grabbing Edward and the tank engine’s attention. Within minutes, she approached the other two.

"Good evening, Edward! Who is this?" Emily excitedly asked.

"Guid evenin’, Emily! This is Be- the Fat Director’s new engine!" he replied.

"Hello, I'm Thomas!" the E2 greeted.

"Hello! My name is Emily," the ex-GNR Stirling Single replied. "I'm about to head back to the shed. Are you two heading back?"

"In a bit. We jist need tae finish up here," Edward replied.

"Ah, alright then. I'll see you two later," Emily said before lowering her voice. "I just hope the others aren't there already…"

"James and Gordon ur. Henry's no due until much later."

"I was hoping it wasn’t either of those two. Henry's much more bearable…" she grumbled.

"Dinnae worry, Emily. Dinnae mind em."

Thomas spoke up. "What's wrong with James? He seemed nice!”

"James is a bit…" Emily hummed, "...rude."

"But he can be nice, like earlier," Edward pointed out. "It's jist… rare tae see him be like thon…”

"Oh," Thomas said. "So you pull the morning Express?"

"Ah, I see you've heard," Emily replied teasingly. "I used to pull it all the time until Gordon arrived to help. The Other Director was concerned about my age so he bought Gordon from my old railway."

"So Gordon's the Number Three?"

"That would be me!” piped up Emily, gesturing towards her tender. “Henry's number four. Then Gordon's number five. James is number six, and, well…"

"I would be number seven?"

"Yes," replied Edward quickly.

"You really like to ask a lot of questions, don't you?" chuckled Emily.

"I just have to know!" huffed Thomas defensively. The tender engines laughed at his fussiness. "It's a new railway. I don't want to be wandering around like a fool! I want to know what I’m doing!"

"And ye will wit’ time, Thomas! Wit’ time," chuckled Edward, just as Emily yawned.

"Sorry," she quickly piped. "I'm chuffed! I'll see you two back at the shed. Bye!" The apple green single pulled out of the yard, onto the mainline, and headed to Knapford Shed.

"Bye, Emily!" Edward and Thomas said in unison before getting back to work.

…

That night at Knapford Shed, Thomas was now the smallest engine of the North Western Railway. He was exhausted by the time he and Edward pulled up to the Shed. They saw Emily watching James failing to talk to Gordon while a grand green tender engine was fast asleep.

I guess he’s just like that with everyone, Thomas mused as Gordon shot a glare at James, quickly shutting up the black tender engine. Said engine pouted and reversed into his berth, calling it a night.

Knapford Shed was like any normal engine shed. It had a turntable next to it. There were doors to each berth. From what Thomas could see as he approached the turntable, it looked like the structure had sections. The roof seemed to split into three, and each one looked identical. Each section had three berths.

"How did ye like yer first day?" asked Edward as the little khaki tank engine was turned around.

"I enjoyed it!" he exclaimed, catching the attention of the other three tender engines. However, the unknown engine stayed asleep. "I can't wait to start pulling trains and exploring the island!"

A grumble was heard, and the two smallest engines looked to find a disgruntled Gordon.

The Edwardian-styled engine sighed. "Listen, Thomas. Yer dedication is great but ye need tae learn the basics first," said Edward. The guilt of grounding the newcomer's hopes down struck him. "Neither o' us want ye tae get intae trouble because ye dinnae ken ‘em."

"Oh, I'll get them down! It'll be easy!" claimed Thomas.

Edward chuckled but his worry for his mentee persisted. The pair talked for a while longer as the others slept. They giggled and whispered as quietly as they could before sleep finally took over.

What a great first day.

Notes:

Imagine rewriting a rewrite you did, haha-

I wasn't satisfied with the rewrite. It was the one story that kept pestering me so I finally got the chance to sit down and fix it.

I decided to split it up into multiple stories and heavily edited the parts I didn't like. Most of it was down to the dialogue and cutting out parts like Henry's story and the scene with Edward and Gordon.

Another thing that really irked me about my rewrite was Emily. She created more dead space so this is intended to fix that, as well as other continuity errors from James' arrival arc and connotations to IRL basis/facts, such as James' wooden brake blocks and the problems with the LBSCR E2s.

Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day! <3

#my writing #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte emily #ttte james #ttte gordon #eosr sir bertram topham hatt ii #ttte fic #ttte au #ttte #the rewritten railway au #the lovely rewritten railway au

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cerenemuxse · 1 year ago

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TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - The Blunt End

An Engine of Many Colors (Season 22 Episode 9)

Sodor's Legend of the Lost Treasure (2015)

Word Count: 420

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

"Oh, this isn’t good," said the Fat Controller. Just before Donald, James, and Edward had left for the Steamworks, he had severely scolded four diesels involved with the incident, except for Norman, who was taken to the Dieselworks. “You’ve really damaged yourself there, James.”

"I was just trying to get to the Honeypot coaches, sir," huffed James as he was lifted off the flatbed Donald had brought him to the Steamworks on.

"Well, I'll have someone else take care of that." He peered over to Donald. "That reminds me. Donald, Arthur will be taking your goods train. While he does that, I want you to work on his branch line for the time being. Once he’s done, you both can go back to your regular jobs."

"Aye, sir!" piped up Donald before rushing away with a loud whistle. "Get better soon, Jimmy!"

"Thanks, Donnie!" hollered James.

Sir Topham Hatt II cleared his throat. "Now then, I had thought of you for the Mixed-Traffic Challenge-"

"Really?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid you can't go. Your rear buffer beam is damaged, which you need for the challenge. There just isn't enough time for you to be repaired."

"But, sir-!"

"I'm sorry, James, but we just won't participate in the Mixed-Traffic Challenge this year." The Fat Controller tipped his hat and left.

As he did, Edward entered the Steamworks, having waited outside. "I'm sorry thon happenit, James."

"Edward!"

"T-This isnae fair!” he huffed. “None o' thon wis yer fault. Ye got the blunt end o' it. Norman, too." Edward's eyebrows furrowed. "Is it… n-normal for engines tae pull tricks? Tricks like thon?"

"You have no idea," replied James before laughing.

The preserved red engine joined him. "Very interestin'," said Edward with a laugh.

Eventually, the laughter died down, leaving the two engines sitting in an awkward silence. That silence was short-lived.

"That should be everyone," the Fat Controller was heard saying. "Where's that preserved engine?"

"Och! I should go." Edward momentarily looked down before, without thinking twice, looking up at James. For the first time, they made eye contact, and Edward felt okay. "I dinnae… wan’ tae git lost again…" he said, trying to joke with a nervous smile, though that smile quickly fell. "Guidbye, James…"

James' face dropped as well. "Goodbye, Edward," he reluctantly said as the preserved engine left with two solemn whistles. He heard Edward calling out for the Fat Controller. Soon, the sound of chuffing dwindled till it could no longer be heard, being the last sign of Edward's presence.

#ttte edward #ttte james #ttte donald #ttte sir bertram topham hatt II #my writing #tgr 2x5 roleswap au #ttte #ttte fic #ttte au #tgr but there's a roleswap #cerenemuxse

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cerenemuxse · 1 year ago

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TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - The Mixed-Traffic Challenge

Pouty James (Season 20 Episode 8)

Word Count: 2,137

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

As James lined up with the other engines, he was pumped with confidence. Pulling coaches and trucks was what James did for a living. This is easy, he thought, distracted enough that he was startled when a diesel shunted an extra set of coaches behind him.

With an "Omph!" James was reign back from his mind, and that's when he heard him.

"James?"

With a quick hum and his attention caught, James peered to his left and saw Edward on the other side, at the very end of the line of engines.

"It was you!" Edward exclaimed joyfully.

"I did!" James replied with surprise. He didn't recall Edward saying he was joining the competition among the many things they'd talked about two days ago.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the North Westerners were nervous. Though they wouldn't dare admit it to the red engine, they knew James had it. They were just concerned about James' tendency to mess up at any point.

"Come on, Jimmy," Emily whispered hastily. "You've got this! If there's any-engine that can win this, it's you."

Back in the arena, the engines and coaches just had their couplings checked over, making sure they weren't weak. When the yardmen gave the ready signal, the announcer spoke.

"Let's give one final round of applause to the participants of the first Mixed-Traffic Challenge!" the announcer exclaimed, followed by loud cheers and roars from the crowd. "Engines and crew, are you ready?"

Whistles of all different tunes shrilled throughout the arena, overpowering the obnoxious hollers that some of the crews bellowed out.

"Ready!"

James wheeshed heavily, ready to loosen his brakes.

"Set!"

His driver released the brake, along with the other drivers of other engines. All eight engines slowly crept forward, some slightly farther than others.

"Go!"

Regulators were open and the engines were off. Some had a slow start while others had a quick one. James started right smack in the middle, quickly catching up to the ones up ahead. He surpassed two engines as the engine furthest away, the Caledonian Railway Single No. 123, pulled ahead the curve and stopped once their train went past the first line, followed by a blare of a horn.

"The Caledonian Railway's ex-Number One-Twenty-Three has finished first in heading a passenger train! An impressive performance from a single!" the announcer exclaimed, his voice booming in the area. "Who will roll in second and third?"

And as soon as he finished that sentence, Edward rolled in, his line right next to the Caledonian, and came to a halt.

"One-Twenty-Three has been followed by the Furness Railway's ex-Number Twenty-One, taking second place for the Furness Railway Trust! A grand example of what 'shy steamers' are capable of!" he announced, running on the adrenaline from The Great Race and The Shunting Competition. "Followed by in-service BR Number D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, the Southern Eastern and Chatham Railway's ex-Number Five-Twenty-Nine, taking third place for the Southern Region of British Railways! Looks like the four-leader-four-driver engines are taking their title as the most powerful engines once again!"

The announcer continued to ramble on, announcing each engine's arrival. James had landed fourth place, four spots away from last place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that's the first section! Engines, leave your passenger trains and get your goods trains ready!" the announcer exclaimed, followed by the sound of points switching in unison.

The referee of the first checkpoint blew his whistle and waved his flags forward, walking towards the engines. All eight engines eased backward, all pumping with adrenaline.

"Ye're catching on!" hollered Edward once he set his coaches on their designated track. The Furness fella pulled forward and switched points. The exhaustion could already be heard in his voice.

"I'll catch up to you!" James exclaimed proudly amongst the noises of couplings clanking and buffers bumping into one another.

"Like tae see it!"

Quickly and smoothly, the engines were coupled to their goods train. A repeat of the callouts and signals happened, and the engines soon stormed down the tracks again.

The distance was greater than the first section, allowing slower engines to catch up to others who were pumping their pistons fast as their boilers struggled to continuously steam so strongly. The Caledonian had fallen behind quite quickly, letting James and DS239 push ahead, along with Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223. A New South Wales Z26 class and a Bavarian G 3/4 H, both still in service, were falling behind with Edward, though the latter was able to retain fourth place when all eight engines crossed the next finish line.

The crowd roared as the voice boomed throughout the speakers. "First is D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, followed by James and Twelve-Twenty-Three taking second and third respectively! What a fallout for One-Twenty-Three and Twenty-One, dropping four places! But, oh dear! One-Twenty-Three has dropped another placement, losing to Twenty-One. Here comes the Australian engine in sixth place, followed by the Bavarian G in seventh and Five-Twenty-Nine in eighth!" As soon as the announcer spoke his last word, DS239 whistled brightly as it began to pull its train backward, having gotten into position as swiftly as possible.

James was thrown off, having expected to wait as they did first. It was enough leeway for the other engines to take advantage and get ready. By the time James was coupled up, the Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223 and Edward passed by.

"Keep goin', James! It's a race!" huffed out Edward as he passed by hurriedly and left James confused by the last sentence. Though the other red engine had gone by quickly, James noticed Edward's freckled cheeks burn. The words "shy steamer" rattled around his smokebox as he reversed with his train once he was ready, quickly catching up to the Furness fellow.

"Meet you on the other side!" exclaimed James.

"Soon enough!" huffed out Edward. "I will!"

As they stormed closer to the finish line, an air horn went off. "Stop the race!" exclaimed the announcer. The engines immediately pulled on their brakes, buffers bashing against one another as they came to a stop. "We have a-!"

BANG! went the first truck of the Caledonian's goods trains once a Canadian engine bashed it aside as it chased a tiny yellow boxcab diesel.

"Help!" cried out Philip as the referees started waving their red flags and blowing their whistles frantically.

James hollered out, flipping his smokebox door open. "Philip, what is wrong with you?"

"Ask that guy!" cried out Philip once again as he passed by James, being chased by Vinnie, the massive Canadian engine. The points had immediately been switched to direct to the center area, where a radio tower was located. Both engines headed straight for the turntable near it, where it hadn't been set and ready to use.

"Philip!" exclaimed James as the yellow boxcab diesel tettered over the edge and Vinnie closed in on him.

Philip was frightened as Vinnie neared him, rearing his front end, ready to shunt him off into the space of the turntable. But then Vinnie stopped as James jerked forward, lassoing his coupling onto Vinnie's back buffer beam.

"You better not go a single inch towards him, you Pacific bullhead!" James hollered out furiously as he reversed, only to struggle to pull the heavy streamlined Canadian Confederation engine.

Vinnie laughed mockingly, holding onto his brakes. "So… wanna play tug-of-war, don't cha?" he asked slyly.

Suddenly, Edward lassoed his coupling onto James' read buffer beam and hollered out, "Aye! Pull, James!"

Despite being startled, James pulled with all his might with Edward. Both engines were able to pull Vinnie far away from Philip. The former was still startled by the Victorian Scottish engine’s sudden appearance, so he was surprised even more when he was quickly hauled away.

"Points!" hollered James. One of the signalmen, confused, changed the points as the two engines continued to pull Vinnie back. “Go, Philip! Go, go, go!” yelled James as his chubby cheeks began to burn once Vinnie pulled back.

Philip quickly scuttled away, though not without taunting Vinnie.

The strain became too much so James’ front coupling snapped, letting Vinnie send himself rolling forward, derailing on the set of points, and crashing into the radio tower with a BANG!

"Take that, big bully!" yelled Philip.

James and Edward were shocked but they smiled at each other until Edward noticed something. With a gasp, Edward immediately pulled James backward, startling the slightly larger red engine.

“Whoa! What-?”

BANG! The radio tower collapsed to the ground, right in front of James, who almost jumped off his chassis. As quickly as the nearby yardman could, he shut off the power before anyone could get hurt.

“Thanks,” James huffed out.

“N-No need tae thank me. It’s whit friends ur for,” Edward replied cheerfully before fully realizing what he said. “T-Thon is if we ur!” he stammered. “...Ur we?”

“Of course-!”

“Hey!” interrupted the Canadian engine, getting the other two’s attention. “Can somebody get me some help?”

As quickly as help arrived, the arena was cleared of intruders, and James' coupling was promptly replaced, the race resumed. The engines stormed down the final stretch with James overtaking Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223, Edward, and British Rail No. DS239. DS239 began falling behind, allowing Edward to steam past and fall behind James. The “break” had done him some good, allowing him to rest his aching pistons.

James laughed joyfully. “You’re catching up!”

“I am!” replied Edward.

The two red tender engines strayed further away from the others, nearing the finish line and laughing about. They pushed along and before they knew it, both engines passed the finish line, one mere seconds before the other.

"What a close call!" hollered the announcer. "Ex-Furness Railway Number Twenty-One has finished first place for the tender-first section, with North Western Railway Number Five right behind! Judges, it's time to start calculating those points!"

"No!" huffed Emily with a pout. "He was winning!"

"I knew he was trouble," said Philip.

Meanwhile, Edward's eyes snapped open in shock, having shut them from laughter. "I-"

"Congrats!" hollered James as they both came to a stop.

"But-!"

"And here comes the Pennsylvanian, followed by D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, the Australian, the Caledonian, Five-Twenty-Nine, and the Bavarian G Three-Sub-Four! Folks, now we wait for the final results!"

The audience went silent as the judges mumbled to one another, mics having been turned off, and calculating the points. Steam wheeshing was the only sound that could be heard across the arena as both engines and people held their breaths.

After what seemed like ages, it took a few seconds for one of the judges to turn on their mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, engines and crews, we would like to announce the top three winners. Our first place winner, overall, goes to the Furness Railway's ex-Twenty-One, with twenty-six points."

The crowd cheered, the engines whistled, and the crews hollered. Edward's face burned with embarrassment from the sudden attention.

"In second place, we have the North Western Railway's Number Five engine, James, with twenty-five points."

The other North Westerners whistled sharply, the sound shrilling throughout the arena.

"Let's go, James!" hollered Thomas. "Top three, top three!"

"That's my little brother!" exclaimed Emily.

"Aw, by just one point!" pouted Philip.

"And taking third place is British Rail's D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine from the Southern region, also with twenty-five points," finished the judge. "Ladies and gentlemen, this has been the Mixed-Traffic Challenge!"

Cheers roared from the audience and whistles shrilled from the engines surrounding the area.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed James to the flustered Furness fella.

"T-Thank ye!" Edward managed to huff out. "Congratulations tae ye, too, James!"

"James!" exclaimed the Fat Controller as he approached the two engines. "What were you even doing here in the first place?" he asked.

James had seen this coming. It was a continuation of his conversation with his controller before the competition. "I came with Gordon's safety valve, sir. It hadn't been reassembled properly. That's why his boiler burst."

"Ah," replied the Fat Controller. Thank goodness the burst hadn't been worse, ending as a full-out boiler explosion. "Now that is being a really useful engine, James. I'm proud of you for doing so for your fellow engines. Even more with you joining the competition, because you've taken a top three!"

Just then, the rest of the North Westerners approached them from outside of the arena, on a set of tracks much closer to it. Cheers and whistles roared from the group, cheering their friend on.

"He was just doing what he does best, sir!" exclaimed Emily.

"Being the best Mixed-Traffic engine of the show!" huffed James with pride. "You're not that bad of an engine. There's more than what you can see~" he sang, peering over to Edward…

Only to see the space next to him empty.

"...Edward?" James was confused. Edward was just there moments ago. "Where did he go? He didn't even say goodbye…"

this is actually the longest chapter. oops-

#ttte james #ttte edward #ttte emily #ttte philip #ttte thomas #ttte sir bertram topham hatt II #tgr 2x5 roleswap au #my writing #ttte #ttte au #ttte fic #tgr but there's a roleswap #cerenemuxse

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the-rewritten-railway-au · 1 year ago

Text

One or the Other

April 1925

Word Count: +9,110

An experimental rebuild of his class has arrived on the Island of Sodor, bought by the North Western Railway. He wonders if he'll fit in just fine with the other engines as problems begin to rise.

The sun was setting within the horizon, tucked behind the ocean. All of the engines at Barrow-in-Furness had returned to their sheds, except for two.

While both engines were classified as Lancashire and Yorkshire Class 28s, the only two of their class with Hughes Twin Plug superheaters and Belpaire fireboxes, they were quite different. One of them was an original Class 28, no modifications on them were found. The other was a rebuild, an experimental rebuild specifically. After a year of trial, he was deemed as a failed experiment.

Today was one of his last days before heading to the Island of Sodor, to the railway he was sold to.

"You're gonna love it when you get to Sodor!" chimed the smaller engine, as she noted her younger brother's mood. "It's lovely, I promise you."

The rebuilt engine let out a high-pitched wheesh. He hummed. "But you said that the engines there were straight-up sinister," he remarked.

His sister chuckled. "I meant the other engines on trial. Though two of the five were quite mean, I would ignore them if I were you, little brother."

"I'm much bigger than you!" he huffed. "...but, what about the others?"

"Oh, they're quite pleasant," she noted. "Though one of them might not be there anymore." She looked down. "There was an engine who sat in one of the sheds all the time. He barely went out."

"So he could've been…" James gulped a heavy cloud of steam, which slowly backed up his pipes. "Scrapped?" He wheezed out.

"Mhm," hummed his sister. "Don't let it intimidate you. It's just how it goes."

He stayed quiet.

His sister sighed. "I'm sure you'll do great, and you'll fit in quite well."

"...And what about you?" he asked as he looked at his sister.

His sister looked down. "Oh, I'll still be here." She whistled before chuffing away. "Who knows. We might see each other here every now and then."

"Here? As in Barrow-in-Furness?"

"Mhm," she stopped. "There are a few engines who come over from Sodor to here. You might be one of them soon." With that, she left.

The younger engine smiled warmly as the engine, the only one he could truly consider to be family, left. He looked in the distance and could barely see it but it was there.

The Vicarstown Drawbridge was raised up as if reaching for the limitless sky. Once it was let down in the morning, he would leave, and when he crossed over, he would possibly never come back.

…

It was shortly after lunch as four engines were being fired up after a good hour break and a quick announcement from Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II, the director of the North Western Railway.

A grand blue tender engine named Gordon huffed. "Edward, you will give this railway a bad name, just by rolling up there."

Henry, a grand green tender engine right next to him, asked, "They could be reckless. It's better if one of us goes instead."

An emerald-green tender engine, Emily, gave them a quick glare before shifting her attention to Edward. "What do you think they'll be doing when they arrive?" she asked, in hopes of deviating from the negativity.

Edward, a blue medium-sized tender engine, looked at the two largest tender engines and smiled. He softly chuckled. "Ye're forgettin wha mentorit the both of ye," he said, then glanced at the emerald-green tender engine. "Emily, I'm sure it'll be fine. I've been seein more goods trains than usual sae thon's most likely what they'll be doin."

Emily hummed. "That's true."

Gordon huffed and Henry grunted.

"Noo, noo," said Edward. "Please be nice tae the newcomer. It would be rude of us not to."

Emily whistled but the other two said nothing.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Let's get tae work, now. I'll see ye around!" he exclaimed as he chuffed away, continuing to work in Tidmouth Yards.

…

Within a few days, Sir Topham Hatt II had a workman from Tidmouth pass a message to Edward's crew, Charlie Sands and Sidney Heaver.

"The new engine has arrived," he said. "He's at Crovan's Gate Works."

Without any haste, Edward had his tender refilled of coal and water before getting onto the Main Line and heading towards Crovan's Gate. He hummed along the way as he huffed and chuffed down the line.

…

The rebuilt engine nervously rolled to a stop right next to what appeared to be a factory or repair shop.

"Is this it?" he asked his driver hastily as he observed the large brick building. The massive brick building had tall windows that were quite dirty, making it difficult for the engine to look through. He was curious as to what was going on inside, huffing in frustration.

"This is the place," replied his driver, Fred Quill, as his fireman, George Turner, patted at the curious engine. Just a few minutes ago, the engine had been fuming and crying after a not-so-pleasant farewell. It's as if the events that had taken place the day before had never happened.

Just then, Sir Topham Hatt II approached him, followed by two men dressed in blue coats and blue slacks. He dressed appropriately as any other railway owner would, in a full tuxedo with a yellow vest.

The newcomer was a medium-sized tender engine of two leading wheels and six 5'6" driving wheels. His livery was matte black, except for his buffer beams. On his cab was his number, 12556, painted in yellow, the same yellow used for the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway logo on his tender. Unlike other engines, he had a three-chime brass whistle sitting on top of his domed boiler. Across his face, at eye level, was a black stripe, with the number 12556 in white.

The black medium-sized tender engine looked at the man with his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.

"Hello there! You must be James!" Sir Topham Hatt II exclaimed with excitement.

The engine jolted, and quickly looked away from the building. His heterochromatic eyes landed sight on the stout gentleman. He was confused. "Who?"

The Fat Director nodded at him. "You, James," he replied.

"P-pardon?" he asked, confused and nervous. He avoided eye contact. "I-I think you have the wrong engine, sir. I don't have a name. My number is twelve-thousand-five hundred fifty-six or twelve-five fifty-six, sir."

"Then you are James," the director said. "I gave you that name. Do you like it?"

James was shocked. Flabbergasted, he looked down shyly. Eventually, he replied. "I do, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Where are my manners? Welcome to the North Western Railway. I am Sir Bertram Topham Hatt the Second, the director of this railway. I expect you to become of good use," said Sir Topham Hatt II.

"Of course, sir!"

"Marvelous!" Sir Topham Hatt II said before looking around. Suddenly, he exclaimed, "There you are!"

James looked in the direction that the director was looking in.

Up ahead, a cerulean blue tender engine rolled in and came to a stop on the track to his left. The other engine was medium-sized, like he was, though a bit smaller, and had four leading wheels and four driving wheels.

Sir Topham Hatt II glanced at the blue medium-sized tender engine, smiling at the warm presence the locomotive brought with him.

Edward smiled at the new engine.

The director looked at James. "You will be working with one of the railway's most hardworking engines." He looked back at Edward with pride before gesturing from him to James.

The blue engine gave a quick hum before rolling closer to James. "Hello thare. Ma name is Edward," he piped cheerfully, his Scottish accent being quite thick. "What's yers?"

"James," the black engine replied quickly. He was still nervous.

Edward smiled. With a quick fweep, fweep!, he exclaimed, "Welcome tae Sodor, James!"

"Edward will be your mentor, James," said the Fat Director, gesturing James to Edward. "You will be working with him at the shunting yards in Tidmouth. Edward will guide you there." He turned to the blue medium-sized tender engine. "Edward, please make sure James is in line with the others. Keep an eye on him."

"Aye, sir!" replied Edward.

James followed. "Yes, sir!"

"Alright then. On you go! I will be checking on your progress by the end of this week, James."

Once Edward was turned around, the engines left Crovan's Gate and headed for Tidmouth Yards.

…

"Are you Scottish?" James asked meekly. They hadn't gone far away from Crovan's Gate when the silence became loud and uncomfortable.

Edward hummed.

James perked up. "If n-not, I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed. "It's just your-" His stuttering began to crack into his voice.

"Accent?" Edward said, interrupting the nervous engine. He chuckled. "I wis built in Scotland."

"And what railway do you come from?"

"I canae remember," Edward replied.

"Oh."

It stayed silent again.

"Ur ye an LMS original engine?" Edward asked.

"No. I'm a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway engine."

Edward slowed down. "Lancashire and Yorkshire?"

"Yes?" James eyed the engine suspiciously.

"We had two engines come over from thon railway back in nineteen-twenty-ane," Edward replied. He hummed. "I was shed mates wit ane but the other ane wis allocatit at yon old Vicarstown Sheds wit the other ladies." He shook his frame. "One wis an L&YR Class Nine and the other wis an L&YR Class Twenty-Eight."

"I know that Class Twenty-Eight engine!" James exclaimed.

His loud voice startled Edward. "Eh?"

"That was my sister, fifty-five!"

Edward stared at James.

"W-What?" James became nervous all over again.

"Och, nawthin, nawthin!" Edward quickly reassured him. "Ye jist donnae look like yer sister…" He looked away, wincing at his own words.

James huffed. "I'm an experimental engine that was once a Class 28," he muttered bitterly.

"Och, och!" Edward braked harshly. "I'm sae sorry! I should'nae-"

James halted and backed down, lining up with Edward. "It's fine," huffed James. "How much longer to Tidmouth?"

"A while," replied Edward.

"Where is Tidmouth?"

"Oan the other side o the island!"

"What?" James exclaimed.

….

Tidmouth was very far away.

By the time the two engines pulled into Tidmouth Yard, which sat next to Tidmouth Station, dwindling towards the west, James was low on water and coal. Said engine could barely see it but from a distance, he saw what appeared to be the bay of the island. Not too far away and closer to him was a turntable.

"Here we are! Welcome tae Tidmouth," Edward exclaimed as he rolled into the shunting yard. James followed suit. "This is where we'll be workin for now," said the blue medium-sized tender engine.

James looked around the small yard. "And where are the goods trains?" he asked, confused.

"Och," Edward's lips strained, forming a thin line. "Well… aboot thon." He cleared his pipes. "The Fat Director wants ye tae do shuntin."

"Shunting?" The black medium-sized engine tensed. "But I'm a goods engine," said James.

"It's what he directed."

"But why? Do you not have any shunters?"

"We do."

"But where are they?"

"You're talking with the only one right now."

James' heterochromatic eyes slowly glanced over at Edward, meeting the other engine's brass eyes. The worry within boiled. "You're a shunter?"

The baritone of his voice threw Edward off, startling him. "Aye," he replied, tense.

"But you're a tender engine!"

"I ken."

"Tender engines-"

"Ur'nae meant tae shunt," interrupted the blue medium-sized tender engine. "But it's the Fat Director's orders. Nawthin I can dae aboot it."

"And you're the only one."

"Ye're jist goin tae keep askin questions, ur'nae ye?"

James backed away.

Edward took notice, alarmed. "It's no a bad thing!" He glanced at the yard, concerned. "But we have work tae dae."

"And it's shunting?"

"Aye! Noo, let's git tae it!"

…

Throughout the afternoon, both engines had some small chats. Edward spoke what little he could remember of the early days of the railway, adding his experiences with the other engines.

Despite the good things he was hearing, James was still worried.

"Do you think they'll like me?" James asked.

Edward hummed as he shunted some Troublesome Trucks to the end of a track. "They will," he replied rather bluntly.

"Oh." James wasn't convinced.

The blue medium-sized tender engine sighed with a warm smile. "Hey, listen. If they donnae like ye right away, give thaim time," he said as he backed away from the trucks.

Suddenly, a low baritone-pitched whistle was heard from a distance. The two had heard it multiple times throughout the day but this time, it got closer to them.

"Is that one of them?" James asked.

"Aye!" Edward replied. He backed up next to James in time to see a grand blue tender engine thunder into the shunting yard with empty coaches. "Come along, come along!" he piped to James, who followed suit.

The blue grand tender engine halted and hummed, observing the two engines approaching him. He focused on the new one.

"Are you the new engine?" The great blue engine asked.

"Yes, uh-" he swallowed a cloud of steam. "I'm James," James replied with a strained smile. He felt small, smaller than Edward.

Edward inched forward. "Why don' ye introduce yerself?" he suggested to the grand blue tender engine.

"Well then, hello. I'm Gordon, and I pull the Wild Nor' Wester," Gordon said bluntly.

"O' the afternoon!" added Edward.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gordon," James responded, feeling tense.

"It was a pleasure as well." Once the grand blue tender engine was uncoupled from the coaches, he left.

"I'll get thaim, ye keep workin oan the regular freight cars," Edward said as he moved to the track where the coaches were.

James looked at the coaches. "Are those the Wild Nor' Wester coaches?"

"They are," Edward responded as he gently shunted them in place. "It's our passenger express service."

"Does someone else pull it? You said something about the afternoon."

"Aye. She's in charge o the Mornin runs."

James hummed curiously. "Do you get to pull it?"

"Mm, naw. No-"

Another whistle was heard. Though this time, it was a higher pitch than Gordon's. "Hello, Edward!" A voice hollered out.

"Och, thon's Henry!" Edward exclaimed. He looked at James. "This way, this way!" He chuffed backward. James followed.

"You must be the new engine. My name's Henry, what's yours?" a grand green tender engine asked as he rolled to a stop in the yard.

"I'm James," the black medium-sized tender engine replied. He liked Henry already. He's nice, he thought.

"It's nice to meet you. I need to get going. I'll see you around," said Henry before he whistled and left the yard.

James hummed. He asked Edward, "Is he the other engine who pulls the Express?"

"Naw, he pulls the regular passenger coaches an goods trains. Gordon pulls goods trains as well, thouch not often," Edward replied.

"Then who's the other engine?"

"Thon would be-"

"Edward!" An English-accented voice hollered.

"Emily, hello thare!" replied Edward.

"Did Gordon do the final Express run of the morning?" Emily quickly asked. She became excited when she noticed the unfamiliar engine next to Edward.

"He did. He juist left for his break."

"Good, good," Emily said in relief. "Now, who is this?" The emerald green tender engine inched closer to the two medium-sized tender engines.

"Gae on," Edward whispered to James. He backed up. "Introduce yerself."

"Hello, I'm James," said James. "It's Emily, right?"

"It is. Welcome to the railway, lad!" Emily replied. "Have you met the coffee pot engine, yet?"

"Coffee pot engine? The ones with the vertical boilers?" James asked, surprised and curious.

"Thae are the anes," Edward replied. "Thare's only ane left on the railway. He runs the Ffarquhar Branch Line, ane o the only operatin branch lines left. Still frequentit as it wis back then."

James hummed. "Do you guys work on the branch line?"

"Nope," replied Emily. "We work on the Main Line, which runs from here to Barrow-in-Furness."

"Oh. Will I be working on the Main Line?"

"Of course. In fact, you are right now." Emily paused when she noticed the lettering on James’ cab. "Welcome from the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway! Did you come from a railway before then?”

"Yes. The Lancashire and Yorkshire," replied James.

"Lancashire and Yorkshire, huh? Think we had two engines on trial from there, not too long ago…" Emily looked at Edward. "Have the other two met him?"

"They have. Shortly before ye came, thon is," replied Edward.

"Good. I must get going. Sir Topham Hatt wants me to pull the passenger train while Henry's gone. I'll see you two later!"

"Alricht, Emily," said Edward as Emily pulled away from the shunting yards. He looked at James. "Wid ye like tae shunt the passenger coaches?"

"Uh, sure," replied the black medium-sized tender engine worriedly. "Which ones are they?"

"The red coaches on the second tae last track."

James spotted the red coaches and went to work.

When he shunted the red passenger coaches into the station, he heard a little girl.

"Mummy, look! A new engine!" she exclaimed, pointing at James.

Her mother hummed. "It's like all the other engines," she commented with a smile.

James began to smile.

Finally, someone else recognizes that I am just like the others. Just as great. Just as useful-

"I don't see what's so different about it from the rest," the mother said, her smile disappearing. "Other than the eyes," she added, dropping her voice level. She looked down at her daughter and motioned at the passenger coaches. "Come on. Let's get on the train, dear."

The little girl simply followed her mother as James' heterochromatic eyes followed the pair. His eyebrows furrowed at the comment.

Despite the fire still going in his firebox and his water supply full, his boiler felt empty and cold.

So much for wanting to be like everyone else… he thought as he quietly puffed away.

…

It was evening when James and Edward finished with work. The two engines headed to Knapford Sheds, which were not too far. The other engines were already waiting for them, including the coffee pot engine.

On the way back, the comment from the mother had nagged at James, who tried to push it away.

"Glynn, guid evenin!" greeted Edward as he backed into the berth, along with James next to him in the no-longer empty spot.

"Good evening to you too, Edward," replied Glynn when he noticed the unfamiliar engine right next to him. "Hello there. You must be the new one around here, chap," he said.

James was no longer thinking about what happened earlier. He was staring at the coffee pot engine in awe. He'd heard about them but had never seen one before.

Glynn was tiny in length but was nearly the same height as Edward. His boiler pointed upwards and his livery was red, covered in a few scratches and dents.

"Oh, hello!" James greeted back, with a sudden rush of eagerness and curiosity. "I am. I'm James!"

Glynn chuckled at the reaction of the black medium-sized tender engine. He was used to it. His design was one-of-a-kind. "Hello, James. Welcome to the North Western Railway."

"Thank you," replied the black medium-sized tender engine.

"You're very welcome. I'm hearing you're around in the shunting yards for now."

"I am… Glynn, was it?"

"It is, lad. With Edward guiding you, you'll be fine on this railway."

"I hope so…"

"Is something on your-?"

"Can you please keep it down?" muttered Gordon from the other end of the shed. Henry, who was right next to him, was fast asleep. "Some of us are trying to get some rest. It's getting late."

Edward yawned. He had stayed quiet for the majority of the time, occasionally speaking to Emily, who tried to stay awake but had fallen asleep rather quickly. "He has a point," said Edward, with another yawn. "Guid night…"

Glynn looked at James. "We can chat tomorrow. Good night, James. Have a good rest."

"Good night, Glynn," replied James.

Soon, all the engines were fast asleep, with James looking forward to the following week.

…

A loud shrill rang throughout the sheds that morning.

The engines panicked, waking up with a startle. Henry suddenly moved backward, his fire having barely started. He bashed into the buffers at the end of the track.

"Goodness me, who was that?" he asked with sudden fear.

Someone nervously chuckled. All of the engines looked at James, who was about to leave.

"T-that was me…" replied James. "Was it that loud?"

"Well-" began Edward.

"Yes, it was," Gordon huffed. "With that kind of whistle, you'd certainly scare off the passengers."

"Gordon!"

The grand blue tender engine ignored Edward as he whistled and chuffed away.

"Dinnae-"

"Don't mind him, I know," James said, interrupting Edward. He brought his voice down to a whisper. "My sister told me not to."

"Did you say something?" Emily asked.

"N-no, I didn't say anything," James replied. "I'm on my way to the yards."

"Is yer whistle a three-chime whistle, by any chance?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it is," replied James. "It was given to me during my rebuild, 'as a gift' they said. I'm sorry for scaring you all like that."

"Donnae worry aboot it, James. Thouch it wid've been nice tae ken beforehand…" Edward reassured with a chuckle.

"Right, right." James chuckled nervously as he headed out of the sheds.

…

The next few days went by with ease, or they did so initially.

James had been making great progress. However, by halfway through the week, it was becoming quite sloppy, to say the least.

"Dinnae let them get the best of ye, James. They want engines up tae high doh," said Edward, reminding the black medium-sized tender engine.

James groaned. "'Up the high dough?""

"Flustered, upset… rile up an engine!"

He huffed. "That's troublesome."

The Troublesome Trucks continued to laugh. "No good engine, no good engine!" they chanted with boisterous laughter.

Edward shot a glare at the trucks. "Thon's why they're callit Troublesome Trucks," he said, looking back at James. "Ye'll neit tae learn hou tae deal with thaim properly. Sir Topham Hatt is hopin tae have ye pull yer first goods train by the end of the week."

"Why not now? I was a goods engine on my old railway," James asked as he finally managed to shunt the trucks in place.

"Most of our goods trains have Troublesome Trucks, thon's why not noo," replied Edward. "Sir Topham Hatt doesnae want tae risk ye gettin intae an accident for bein inexperiencit."

"Oh, right," replied James.

Edward hummed. "Och! Before I forget, Glynn is stoppin by for his break. He wantit ye tae shunt his coaches for him."

"Really, why?"

"I dinnae ken," said Edward. "He simply askit me tae tell ye."

"Alright…" said James. "Edward, I'm like the other engines, right?"

"Well, naw. We're all different from ane another-"

"I meant as in- Nevermind," huffed James, returning to shunting the Troublesome Trucks and leaving a confused Edward behind.

"Whit dae ye mean by 'as in?'" asked Edward as he followed the black medium-sized tender engine. "James?"

"It sounds silly but am I an engine? Like a real engine?"

"Of course, ye are," he replied, confused.

"Even if I'm a failed experiment?"

Edward was flabbergasted. "A failed-? Aye, e'en sae, James."

"That's good to know."

"Why are ye askin this? Is awthing alricht?"

James hummed. "...Do passengers often say really rude things?"

Edward's eyes widened. He sighed. "It's best tae ignore thaim." He began to chuff away, leaving the black medium-sized tender engine to ponder. "Nawthin we can dae aboot it."

…

Around the early afternoon, Glynn arrived at Tidmouth Station. After dropping off his passengers, he headed towards the shunting yard. James was waiting for him, just having arranged a goods train for Henry to take.

"Hello, Glynn," he said as Glynn approached him.

"Hello, James," said Glynn. "I want you to meet my coaches."

"Hello there!" piped up the first coach. "I'm Annie, and she's Clarabel," Annie said, smiling as she glanced back at Clarabel, the passenger brake coach.

"It's nice to meet you, James!" exclaimed Clarabel, as she and Annie were uncoupled from Glynn.

"Hello, Annie. Hello, Clarabel," greeted James to the auburn passenger coaches as he was coupled up to them from the back.

Glynn chuffed away. "I'll be near the water tank. Thank you, James!"

"You're welcome, Glynn!" James replied as he reversed. He thought about where to put the auburn coaches for the time being.

"We usually go in that shed over there," said Clarabel, noticing the pondering engine. She glanced to the left. "Where the red passenger coaches are."

James hummed as he reversed further and switched tracks to reach what looked like a carriage shed. It was at the edge of the shunting yard. As gently as he could, James shunted them in place.

"James, have you ever pulled coaches before?" Annie asked suddenly as a workman uncoupled her from James.

James sighed. "No, I haven't," he replied as he backed away.

"Would you like to one day?" asked Annie.

The black medium-sized tender engine stopped in his tracks. "Sorry?"

"Would you like to pull coaches one day?"

James was hesitant. "I would, but I'm a goods engine. I'm not meant to be pulling passenger coaches."

"Well-"

"You better get going, James. Glynn does want to spend some time with you," said Clarabel hastily, interrupting Annie.

"Oh right! See you in a bit!" exclaimed James as he chuffed away from the shed. He left to join Glynn.

"Goodbye, James!" said Clarabel frantically. Her franticness went unnoticed by James.

But not by Annie. "Clarabel, what was that for?" asked Annie.

The equivalent of Clarabel's eyebrow bone furrowed. "We can't be telling a newcomer such things, Annie. Besides, we don't know for sure. It's… just a possibility."

…

"...Henry refused to come out of the tunnel. An engine on trial almost got him out but he was being stubborn."

"Would this engine happen to be an L&YR Class 28?"

"Pretty sure it was. Do you know this engine?"

"She's my sister. Number two-forty-three?"

Glynn hummed. "Oh, I remember her. I didn't see her much, though."

"Then how did you know about that?"

"The other three told me about it. They'd seen how hard she tried, but Henry's strong. He wouldn't budge."

"Not one bit?" asked James, amused.

Glynn chuckled lightly. "Not one bit. So the board, including the old Fat Director, ordered for the tunnel to be walled up. He was let out eventually, but that was only because Gordon burst his safety valve and none of the other engines were available to cover for him."

"Wow," said James with a stale tone, though amused. "Even if Gordon hadn't burst his safety valve, Henry would have still been let out, right?"

Glynn stayed silent.

"Right?" Fear began to creep into his boiler.

"No," Glynn replied bluntly. "I don't think so. The others do, but I don't."

"O-oh…"

"It's been a few years since that happened."

"So it won't happen again?"

"No, I doubt it would," said Glynn, teeth clenched.

"Alright. So what happened after?"

"Everything went back to how it was after Gordon was fixed up, just like it is now."

"Nothing changed?"

"Nothing changed," Glynn replied. He heard footsteps. The red coffee pot engine looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of men walking toward them. "That's my crew. My break's over. Don't worry about Annie and Clarabel, I'll get them myself."

"Oh, alright then. I should get back to work. Goodbye, Glynn!"

"Goodbye, James!" said Glynn as the black medium-sized tender engine left to return to his work in the yard.

…

"James? James!"

"Hm? Who's there?" asked the black medium-sized tender engine as he backed away from shunting a few cars into the siding. He saw the engine, who had been calling out for him. "Oh, hi, Gordon," said James.

"For how much longer are you going to work in the yard?" Gordon bluntly asked with no greeting.

"By the end of the week, I think," replied James, thrown off by the question. "Why?"

"Just curious," he replied. Gordon brought his voice down to a whisper. "You could be a replacement."

James froze. "R-Replacement? Who?"

"Edward."

"E-Edward?" James looked around frantically to find the engine. He managed to spot him on the other side of the yard. "What's wrong with him?” he whispered. “He seems to be just fine."

"Yes, but that's because he stays in the yard. Have you not noticed how he never leaves the yard?"

The question made James think. "He left once for a goods train to… somewhere, but I've only been here for a few days-"

"Edward's old," Gordon said bluntly. "He's been a shy steamer from the day he was built."

"I've never seen him have that issue…" replied James, looking down as he thought back to the past week.

“He never wheeshes because he just cannot steam enough to do that.”

"But Edward's a reliable engine. Sir Topham Hatt said so himself," replied James. "Besides, I was brought here to pull goods trains. I just… need to be ready."

"Sure," Gordon huffed as he rolled out of the yards, leaving a worried James behind, who recalled something his sister had said.

…

"Edward, when were you built?" James asked the blue medium-sized tender engine the following morning.

Edward hummed. "I canae remember… but I might be a few decades old," he replied. Edward noticed James' tense stance. "Is somethin botherin ye, James?"

"No, no. No… Actually, yes." He looked straight into Edward's eyes. "Were you the engine who stayed in the shed during the loans? The one who never left?

Edward was startled, but he still answered. "Aye," he replied, looking down. "But I did leave a few times."

"How many?"

"Mmm, five times?"

"A year?"

"The entire time."

James frowned. "And since when have you been here in the yards?"

"Since nineteen-twenty-three, when the Amalgamation happened. But I dinnae mind it. As lon’ as I'm no’ left in the shed all the time, I'm quite pleasit wit it," replied Edward with a pleasing smile.

However, Edward's words shook through James' boiler, and the smile of the blue medium-sized tender engine bothered James.

James watched as Edward went on with his work. "And what about the Troublesome Trucks?" he asked. He had become more annoyed with them since he arrived, growing tired of their mockery.

"Whit aboot thaim?"

"How can you handle this job? Dealing with those Troublesome Trucks?"

"Well, ane, I enjoy it. An’ two, it takes time."

"You enjoy it?"

"Aye, an’ thare's nawthin-"

"Yes, there is!" James yelled.

Edward was startled but his eyebrows furrowed.

"How do you not want to lose it with those trucks?" He huffed. "I'm ready to shunt one off the rails."

Edward hummed. "I am patient wit’ thaim."

"Don't you wish you could do something else?"

"Well, it wis either this or tae be lockit up in the sheds," replied Edward sternly. "An’ I wid rather no’ be sittin in the sheds, deterioratin’ over time." The blue medium-sized tender engine moved away, continuing his work.

James had an idea.

"How about we travel along the mainline?"

Edward stopped. "Pardon?"

"Travel along the mainline. You said you've been here for quite a while. That means you barely go on the Main Line, right?"

"Well, aye. But like I said, I like workin’ in the yard. It's not much but it's nice," replied Edward, getting a bit worried.

"Then let's go on the Main Line!" James exclaimed. "We can chuff around for a bit!"

"Ye're off yer smokebox!" Edward exclaimed. "We're supposit tae stay in the yard. Orders frae the Fat Director!" Despite his own insistence, the offer to leave was tempting.

"He won't find out," said James. "Lighten up a bit!"

"Aye, he will," Edward said sternly.

"It'll only be for a bit!"

"Doesnae matter!"

"Please! The others have just left. No one else should be coming back, right?"

"No’ for a while," replied Edward. He looked up. "Emily jist left wit the Express, Gordon is gaun’ae tae Vicarstown tae deliver a guids train, and Henry is pullin the regular passenger train before headin’ tae the docks wit a guids train from Barrow-in-Furness."

"Then we aren't disturbing anyone."

"An’ the yard?"

"It'll be fine! It'll just be for a bit! Please!"

Edward frowned but then sighed. "Fine. It daes sound nice, but I dinnae like the idea o’ leavin' wit'out Sir Topham Hatt knowin'…"

"Don't worry! We'll be back shortly!"

…

And back shortly, they were. They had spent less than an hour traveling from Tidmouth to Wellsworth, before turning back.

As they approached Knapford Junction, Edward struggled to see the signals. He squinted, solely focused on the signals that he didn't notice Gordon coming from his left.

Gordon whistled loudly, startling Edward. "Edward! Watch out!" He exclaimed.

"Och!" Edward exclaimed as he pushed on his brakes. He braked in time, missing Gordon. "Gordon! I'm so-!"

"Edward and James!"

The three engines at the junction gasped as they saw the small chubby director storm over to them.

"Gordon, get back to work. Now," he said sternly.

"Of course, sir!" Gordon quickly replied as he chuffed away to Tidmouth.

"You two. The station, now!"

"Y-yes, sir!" exclaimed James.

"Aye, sir!" exclaimed Edward.

The two quickly chuffed towards Knapford Station, leaving the director behind to follow them.

Once the engines settled in the station, Sir Topham Hatt II spoke loudly and sternly at them.

"Edward and James, where have the two of you been?" he asked, raising his voice.

James panicked. "We were on the Main Line, but we didn't go far before coming back, sir!"

"Not far? You're not supposed to leave the shunting yards, the both of you know that!" the short and chubby director exclaimed with fury. He looked at Edward. "Especially you."

"I'm really sorry, sir. James really wantit tae gae, and I agreit. I really wantit tae wander around. Jist for a bit," Edward quickly exclaimed.

Sir Topham Hatt II sighed. "I can't say I'm not upset or disappointed, especially with you, Edward. From now, you're both staying in the yards. You are not to leave unless I say so, understand?"

"Aye, sir."

"Yes, sir," the two medium-sized tender engines replied in solemn unity.

"I hope you do. I'll come back next week instead. Clearly, you both need to learn and behave." Sir Topham Hatt II said sternly before walking away. He shook his head in disappointment, leaving the two engines to think about what they'd done.

…

The following day, James was listening to another of Glynn's stories. This time, it was about the old days of an old railway: The Tidmouth, Knapford, and Elsbridge Light Railway.

"... they were such great engines. Sadly, the first one didn't make it past the beginning of the century and the other was scrapped in nineteen-twenty. The other engines were scrapped by then, so it was just Edward and me. Thankfully, Emily, Henry, and Gordon have come along, and now you have as well." Glynn sighed. "You've been quite helpful since you got here."

"Mm. I'm glad I am," replied James.

His flat tone worried the red coffee pot engine. "You know, you've been quiet for most of the morning and I've noticed you've been ignoring Edward. Is something going on, chap?" Glynn asked.

James looked down, staying quiet.

"It's about yesterday, isn't it?"

The black medium-sized tender engine sighed. He continued to look down at his black running board. "Do you think Edward's mad at me?"

Glynn hummed. "He isn't one to stay mad for long. Talk to him."

"Alright…" James looked at Glynn. "Who were the other engines? Were they from other railways?"

"Well…" Glynn hummed. "There was a tender engine, along with two tank engines from the old Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, and two box-tank engines from the Sodor and Mainland Railway." He squinted, looking down in thought. "Actually, one of the box tanks might still be around here somewhere."

That piqued James' interest. "Really?"

"Maybe. I just don't know where. The tender engine was responsible for leaving them on a siding… His name was-"

"Glynn! Break's over!"

Both engines looked in the direction of the sound. It was Glynn's driver, Gilbert Perkins.

"Alright, Mr. Perkins!" Glynn exclaimed. As Gilbert climbed into Glynn's cab, along with his driver, Glynn looked back at James. "Talk to Edward about it. It's the only way to know." He whistled a farewell and left to pick up Annie and Clarabel for his afternoon run.

James stayed behind in the empty and lonely area of the Tidmouth Yards.

He has a point.

…

It was easier said than done, James thought to himself.

For the past few days, he struggled to talk to Edward but managed to speak up to him, days after his conversation with Glynn.

"Edward…?"

The blue medium-sized tender engine looked back at James. "Hm?"

"Listen, I'm… I'm sorry."

Edward lifted an eyebrow. "For?"

"For making you leave the shunting yard. It got you in trouble and-"

"I'll stop ye richt thare," Edward interrupted, as he backed down to be right next to James. "Ye dinnae make me leave the shuntin yard. I chose to leave wit ye," he explained with emphasis.

"But still-"

"We're both tae blame for whit almost happenit," said Edward. "I actit upon my temptation an ye acted upon yer naivety."

"Naive?" said James offensively. "What do you mean 'naive?'"

"As in, ye dinnae know any better," Edward bluntly replied. "Thon's all."

James frowned.

"Och, thon reminds me. Sir Topham Hatt is comin’ tae see ye in a bit about yer first goods train later today," said Edward.

"What, why? Is there something else I need to know?"

"I think so," replied Edward. His eyes drifted to something elsewhere. He caught a glimpse of the man in question. "He's comin' this way. I'll continue work in the yard," he muttered as he quickly chuffed away.

Sir Topham Hatt II soon reached James. "There you are, James. Now, I came to remind you about the goods train you're taking today. Do you remember where and where?"

"From Brendam Docks to Vicarstown, sir?" replied James.

"Correct. Now, I need you to be careful. From what I've heard, you are capable of handling the Troublesome Trucks but please be cautious, alright?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent! Now, please go to the Crovan's Gate Works," he said, smiling. "Welcome to the North Western Railway, James, our number six engine. I look forward to hearing good reports on your first run."

James gasped with joy. "On it! I won't let you down, sir!" he replied with determination and happiness as he left, smiling, to continue his work.

…

It was the late afternoon of that day when James arrived at Brendam Docks. He rolled in with the number 6 painted on his tender.

He was quite surprised to see how empty the docks were.

There was only one crane at the docks, doing all the unloading. James thought he saw a weird shape, a face of some sort on the crane. But it was too dark to be sure with the sun setting.

James wanted to say "hello" but decided not to. For all he knew, the crane probably had no face. I would make a fool of myself, he thought.

The black medium-sized tender engine was switched over to be able to back up into the goods train. A workman in the docks approached him, coupling James up to the goods train. He gave a quick thumbs up to Fred, James' driver.

"Alright, we're ready to go!" Fred hollered out for James to hear.

James' three-chime whistle rang throughout the docks, startling a few of the workers, before chuffing away.

…

James arrived at the Vicarstown Yards without any problems. The Vicarstown Station was there, which only consisted of platforms, and the abandoned Vicarstown Sheds were nearby. Gordon was there with Wild Nor' Wester for the afternoon.

Fred and George climbed out of his cab, walking towards the smokebox of the black medium-sized tender engine.

"We had a very good first run, didn't we, James?" asked Fred with pride.

"Everything went fine. There's nothing wrong," James replied, a bit thrown off. It still caught him off guard when someone asked for his opinion. "Yeah, it went well."

His crew chuckled, hiding their solemn feelings for the engine.

Fred Quill and George Turner were transferred over to the North Western Railway with James. While George wasn't married or had any family living with him, Fred did. Thankfully, his family agreed to move to Sodor, with special transportation provided by Sir Topham Hatt II to help with the move, having Emily be of assistance for both crewmen.

From their time on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway, they had seen the trouble James went through as an experimental goods engine after his rebuild, especially with most of his siblings. And especially on the evening of James' last day on the LMS.

Suddenly, one of the workmen in the yard called out. "You may leave now! Emily will be coming by to take it from here!"

Without wasting any time, the crewmen climbed into their engine's cab and left the yard.

…

The following morning, James was the second to last engine to leave the sheds for work when he saw Henry in his berth.

Henry was usually the first to leave. However, the grand green tender engine looked ill. Too ill and tired to move.

"Henry? What's wrong?" asked James quietly.

"I'm having boiler problems again," replied Henry solemnly. "It happens a lot. I'm used to it."

"Since when have you had them?"

"When I was built. The old Fat Director was quite upset when he realized it," Henry replied.

"Can't they do anything to fix it?"

Henry shot a glare at James. "Not after they bought you," he snapped with sudden bitterness. "They said it was too expensive." He squinted at James. "Yet, his first investment was you."

James was thrown off. He hadn't interacted much with Henry but he had initially taken a liking for the grand green tender engine.

"I-I…"

"Just get to work," said Henry. He looked away with a frown. "If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me. Might as well replace Edward or Glynn. I've worked too hard for this railway, for goodness sake."

James stayed silent and left.

If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me…

…it better not be me…

Fred and George began to worry. "Let's go refill on coal and water, chap," said Fred, patting his engine’s cab.

As the black medium-sized tender engine chuffed away, Henry scowled and James could feel it be directed to him.

He felt extremely uncomfortable so he picked up the pace to quickly leave Knapford and head to Tidmouth. His crewmen hollered at him.

He could just use the coal hopper and water tower in Tidmouth Yards.

…

That afternoon, Henry passed through the yard, searching for his goods train. He was able to start running once again and, with enough convincing, Sir Topham Hatt II allowed Henry to pull his goods train to Barrow-in-Furness.

He looked around until he found a long train of trucks full of crates and tarp-covered trucks. Henry smiled at being able to find it as he backed down the front of the train. Nearby was James.

James was preparing a set of trucks to take to Brendam Docks when he saw Henry. He felt tense at seeing him, promptly attempting to ignore him.

Attempting.

"Afternoon, James," said Henry.

"Hi, Henry," James replied swiftly, with a frown.

The grand green tender engine frowned as well. "Listen, I'm sorry about-."

"I don't want to replace anyone," James said suddenly, interrupting Henry. "I didn't come here to replace either of you guys. I was brought to help you guys." James huffed. "Glad they did…" What are you doing? "b-because you don't even do anything!"

"A-Anything?" huffed Henry. Now it was his turn to be thrown off as he fumed. "I work hard for this railway. I push myself to my own limits to get a single job done. I may have been defective, but at least I was appreciated, compared to the failure of an experiment you are!" His crew pulled on the brakes out of fear, locking him onto the track.

James was thrown off as Fred and George tried to soothe him. "How did you-?"

"I remember your sister, alright. The L and YR Class twenty-eight engine? Works number two-forty-three. The one who tried to get me out of that tunnel. I saw her at Barrow-in-Furness before you came here. In fact, I saw you there with her."

The black medium-sized tender engine stayed quiet.

"If you want to be worth the Fat Director's money, you better get going on those trucks, mate," said Henry with a scowl. "I'm leaving." With that, he whistled, announcing his departure from the Tidmouth Yards.

Fred jumped out of James' cab once Henry left, rushing to the front of the engine. James' cheeks burned, turning black as his boiler boiled and bubbled.

"James? Lad? Hello?" Fred called out.

They heard chuffing approaching them.

"W-what happened? James?" exclaimed Edward. He had been on the other side of the shunting yard when he heard a loud, distressing commotion. The blue medium-sized tender engine had seen Henry leave hastily.

"Hey, Quill. You guys alright?" hollered out Sidney Heaver, Edward's fireman as he jumped out of the cab, towards Fred.

"We are, but James isn't," replied Fred, slightly distracted as he tried getting James' attention. "Come on, lad!"

"James? James!" exclaimed Edward.

James wouldn't budge.

An idea came to him. "I'll see if I can find Glynn. He might be just the engine to bring him to." He whistled and chuffed away once Sidney climbed back onto Edward, leaving Fred and George with James.

By the time Edward had found Glynn, it was dark. Glynn had just returned from his final passenger run. Edward quickly shunted away Annie and Clarabel, with the usual gentle care.

But when they arrived, James had disappeared. He had left with his trucks for Brendam Docks.

…

The next day, Emily chuffed up to James, shortly before it was time to pull the Express.

"James, are you alright? I heard what happened yesterday," said Emily.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," he replied.

Emily hummed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I just needed some time to think alone, that's all."

"Right…" said Emily. "Listen, if you want to talk, just know that I'm here. So are Glynn and Edward."

"Thanks… Um, Emily, is there something wrong with Edward and Glynn?"

"No… Well, Edward has steaming issues but not severe enough to prevent him from working, and Glynn has broken down a couple of times," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

"I know you're lying, mate," Emily said bluntly. "Did someone tell you something?"

James looked away and frowned.

"James…"

"Yes…"

Emily sighed, having a good idea of who it was. "Bother. Don't listen to them. They don't know Edward and Glynn as much as I do. Those two are troupers."

"Will the Fat Director replace either one of them?"

"He would never, unlike the board," she grumbled.

"The board? They make the final decisions, don't they?"

"They do, somewhat, but they struggle because of the Fat Director. It takes a lot for both to agree, and that doesn't happen often from what I hear."

"And if it does, when it comes to… replacing?"

"Then… it does."

…

Since that day, James has stayed quiet. Extremely quiet. He didn't like Emily's solemn tone. It bothered him, nagged at him as if a workman was scraping his firebox empty.

His sudden mood change did not go unnoticed but the attempts to speak to him were fruitless, except for Glynn.

"Glynn, there really is no way of escaping being scrapped, is there?" asked James.

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "I'm afraid so. In the end, we will be scrapped. The question isn't if we will be scrapped, it's when we will be scrapped," he replied solemnly. "What brings this up?"

"I just have a lot on my mind…" said James. "I miss my sister."

"You always mention your sister, young lad," said Glynn. "You have other siblings, right?."

"I rather not," said James bitterly. "They were nothing but rude to me. Just absolutely profane." He glanced at Glynn, glaring at the thought of them. "Twelve-five fifty-five, two-forty-three before the Amalgamation, was the only one who respected me after my rebuild. She actually treated me the same way she would treat others."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to set you off," said Glynn.

"It's fine… I'm sorry for responding like that," James replied solemnly.

"We're just really worried about you, James. You weren't… rude when you arrived," Glynn said bluntly. "And you've been acting quite odd."

"I need to get going," replied James. "I have another train to pull from Brendam."

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "Alright then, lad. Take care on the job! I'll see you later!"

James smiled. "Thank you! I'll see you later!" he exclaimed, with a sudden change of mood.

…

"James? James!"

The black medium-sized tender engine jerked awake. "Huh?"

"The Fat Director wants to speak with you," said Emily, who was on the turntable next to the sheds. "There's a little platform in Tidmouth Yards. His office is right there." She whistled. "Goodbye, see you later!" she exclaimed hastily.

"Ah, goodbye!" James exclaimed. He heard snoring to his left. There was Glynn.

That's weird, he thought. Glynn is usually off to work by now…

Not wanting to disturb the coffee pot engine, the black medium-sized tender engine left quickly and quietly.

…

The trek to Tidmouth Yards was uncomfortable and quiet, an appropriate feeling for James at the moment.

Since my rebuild, I wanted to be like every other engine, he thought to himself as he headed to the platform. But after that… I don't think I want to be like any engine. I want to be unique. I want to be different. I want to be special, but still, be a really useful engine.

Sir Topham Hatt II spotted the approaching engine. "Good afternoon, James. I have something special for you," he said once James came to stop at the platform.

"What is it, sir?" asked James.

"Starting tomorrow, you will be going on a trial," Sir Topham Hatt II told him, his voice becoming stern.

"A trial, sir?" James asked, worried.

"I'm putting you on trial on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," said Sir Topham Hatt II. "You will be running the passenger service for that line."

James was shocked. He gasped. "A passenger train?" James asked nervously.

"Yes, a passenger train. That branch line is one of the only operational lines that we can afford right now, and many people from the south of Sodor depend on it. Don't let us down, James," he said sternly. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir! I won't let the railway down. I will do my very best."

"You better. Go on with your work now."

"Yes, sir!" replied James. He whistled and chuffed away from the platform, leaving Tidmouth Yards.

…

"I heard ye were put oan trial oan the Ffarquhar Branch Line," asked Edward that afternoon in the Tidmouth Yards.

"Yeah, and?" James asked defensively.

Edward looked ahead, staring blankly at the landscape ahead. "I jist wantit tae say, congratulations," he replied. "I forgot tae say this the other day, but welcome tae yon railway, number six."

"Well, thank you very much," he said. James gestured toward his number. "Took you long enough."

Edward hummed. “Sorry, jist been busy, thon’s all.” He yawned. "I'm gaun'ae get some rest. I'll see ye later," he mumbled as he chuffed away.

There was no response from James, as he was thinking, Twelve-five fifty-five, you were right. I did fit in just fine…

I think.

It was a peaceful summer morning on the Island of Sodor, and today was James' first passenger run.

He was going along the Ffarquhar Branch Line when he heard an unfamiliar whistle. An engine, a stranger, approached right next to him.

When he looked over, he gasped and braked so suddenly. Sparks flew from his wooden brakes.

The engine had no face.

James recognized her from the many stories he had heard on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. The very vivid description going through his mind.

"Lady?"

"Indeed I am, James," Lady replied.

"W-What are you doing here?" James asked.

"I am here to simply tell you one thing."

"What is it?" he asked. An odd fear began to boil within him.

"It's one or the other, James. One or the other…" chanted Lady.

She continued chanting when another voice joined.

James looked ahead to see an engine that he knew all too well.

"One or the other," the L&YR Class 28 engine chanted with Lady, looking into James' eyes with no emotion. She was going backward on the track.

"T-Twelve-five fifty-five?" asked James nervously, his voice wavered.

"You see? You fit in just fine! It was one or the other, and you've gone for one," said LMS 12555 so uncannily. "You even have a name! James. What a splendid name for a splendid engine."

"I-I did!" he replied, trying to ignore the uncanny feeling that lingered in the air. "M-maybe one day, you'll be here with me! We can have a peaceful life on Sodor, sis!"

LMS 12555 frowned while Lady continued to chant in the background, "One or the other. One or the other. One or the other…"

At the same time, the space around them changed, and everything deteriorated. It became a black void with the tracks being the only thing in existence.

"But James… it's one or the other…" she said as she began to deteriorate and fade away.

Before James could say anything, a sudden glow enveloped Lady. Within seconds, a golden light flashed, blinding a stunned James, who had a sad face of realization.

James woke up, heavily panting. He looked around in the darkness of Knapford Sheds. He looked to his left.

Glynn was gone. He hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.

It's one or the other… James thought to himself as he began to panic. He squeezed his eyes shut as the phrase repeated itself in his mind.

One or the other…

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cerenemuxse · 1 year ago

Text

Cold Iron

December 1962

CW: Deadnaming and using incorrect pronouns (from me for the purpose of storytelling with no ill intention) + Profanity

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

Marion’s find turns out to be Glynn, the coffeepot engine who was once responsible for Thomas’ branch line. So when Thomas and Percy show him to James and Emily, James can’t help but wonder how they never found Glynn after all these years. Something’s not right, of that James was certain of.

No one should've been in Knapford Sheds that morning. Everyone should've been working.

Only five of the six engines in the shed had gone to work, leaving one all alone. James was the last of the five to leave the sheds.

About an hour after he left, another engine had come by with the Fat Director in their cab. They crept towards the first berth in the second section of the shed, where Glynn was, whose crew they also had in tow. The cab was quite cramped.

Glynn was a bit of a heavy sleeper so when the engine backed down in the berth and buffered up to him, he didn't awaken. Not even when Mr. Perkins, his driver, coupled him up to the tender engine. Mr. Perkins and the fireman climbed onto Glynn and released the brakes.

And that was when he woke up.

With no effort, the engine towing him left the sheds without wheeshing so much. The Fat Director made sure that the other engines had jobs that wouldn't lead to them coming across Knapford. They were all on the other side of the island or on the only other operating branch line that led down to the docks.

Quickly, the engine was switched to the east tracks of Knapford Junction, going right on the Ffarquhar Branch Line. They trotted down the line as Glynn stayed quiet, enjoying the view of the line one last time.

His time had come.

Passing the ever-growing trees of the surrounding area, the group eventually arrived at the place. It was an abandoned siding covered in an endless number of bushes that had just flourished from the late spring climate, right between Toryreck and Eldridge. The track creaked as the tender engine shunted Glynn into the siding. Before the engine could speak, Glynn stopped them.

"Don't ever blame yourself for this, mate," he whispered. The lukewarm tone of reassurance hit the tender engine with great force as tears welled in their eyes. "My time has come. Thank you for everything."

The sun was beginning to set when two tank engines, Thomas and Percy, rushed into Tidmouth Yards with something in tow. Or rather, someone.

After decades of being believed to have been scrapped, Glynn was found, though in poor condition. His once-shiny red paintwork was cracked and peeling off with huge chunks missing, and he was covered in dust and twigs from funnel to wheel. As quietly as they could, Thomas carefully shunted Glynn into a corner of the yard, unaware of a tender engine having seen the whole thing. As soon as Thomas began to speak, the tender engine rushed away to find the Fat Controller, absolutely terrified.

Once Glynn was hidden away, Thomas and Percy searched around the yard in hopes of finding any of the engines who'd been on the railway before them. Just their luck, James and Emily had pulled into the yard minutes later.

"Emily, James!" hollered the small tank engines as they scuttled towards the tender engines. So much for trying to keep a secret.

"Thomas? Percy?" replied Emily worryingly.

"What's going on?" asked James, equally concerned.

"You'll never guess who we've found!" exclaimed Percy, bubbling with excitement.

"Guess, guess!" followed Thomas.

Both tender engines looked at one another before glancing back at the excited tank engines.

Emily hummed. "Mm, has Gator come back?"

"Nope!" piped up Percy cheerfully.

"Then who?"

"Glynn! We found Glynn!" exclaimed Thomas.

"What?" exclaimed both tender engines very loudly, bellowing huge clouds of steam.

"This isn't funny!" huffed James as his emotions buzzed about. "Glynn was scrapped decades ago!"

"That's what we believed, James!" exclaimed Thomas. "But he was alive all along! Come on, we'll show you!" And with a fweep fweeeep!, Thomas reversed down the track, unable to hold his excitement. "Come on, come on!"

Emily, who had stayed rather quiet, rushed forward, following the blue tank engine, leaving behind a disbelieved James and a confused Percy. The former watched the other two rush away.

"We're not joking around, James," piped up Percy, getting James' full attention, with a serious tone. "Marion found Glynn by accident, but they thought they'd found a talking tree so we went to check it out ourselves."

"Fine. Show me Glynn," replied James sternly and infuriated.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked without any hesitation. He was confused as he had expected James to react rather positively, not the complete opposite.

"Not now, Percy," huffed the snow-covered red tender engine before storming off to follow the others. The little green tank engine quickly scuttled after him, not having shaken off the worrisome feeling he was getting.

When both engines arrived, they found Emily sobbing as none other than Glynn comforted her.

"W-What happened to you?" cried out the Stirling Single. "You've been gone, gone! We thought you'd been scrapped!"

"My deepest apologies, Emily," comforted Glynn, who was also crying. Small tears dripped down his aged cheeks as he let out a soft, tired laugh. "I've simply been here and there on this railway ever since I was withdrawn all those years ago."

"Simply?" repeated Emily as James slowly approached the two. "Glynn, it's been nearly four decades!"

"I know. I know," Glynn replied softly as he peered over to the brightly red-painted tender engine. Even though he was tired as he had no fire running, his eyesight worked well enough. He squinted before he let out a soft chuckle. "James, lad. Is that you?"

"Yes," replied James shakily, huffing out his response. "Yes, it is."

"I see you've taken a liking for red," teased Glynn as he smiled. The wrinkles on his face became more pronounced. "Looks quite smart on you."

And for once, James didn't boast about it, or at least not immediately. He cared less at that moment because now, his old friend was home. Yet he tried to hide his cries. "It does!" he replied letting out a very loud voice crack.

The others let out light chuckles at the red medium-sized tender engine's attempt to hide his emotions. "You'll have to tell me the story about that one soon."

James' chubby cheeks burned with embarrassment. "That's a… bit of a story."

Glynn chuckled. "I'd like to hear it." He let out a yawn, joined by Percy right after. "It is late, however. You all need to get rest. We may have a chat tomorrow. That is if I haven't been found yet."

Percy and Thomas quietly winced, looking at one another, while Emily frowned at them in confusion. "You haven't told him?" she whispered hastily.

"No! Glynn's worried he'll be scrapped if the Fat Controller finds out," replied Thomas.

"He's got to know!" huffed James. "How else is Glynn supposed to stay here?"

"I'm much too old for any of the jobs you all have, James. The Fat Controller will scrap me,” replied Glynn, having accepted his fate long ago. “It’s not a matter of if he’ll scrap me. It’s a matter of when he’ll have me scrapped.

"We have to try at least!" exclaimed the red medium-sized tender engine desperately before taking off.

"James, wait!" exclaimed Thomas as James rushed off. The little tank engines glanced at one another with worry as dread filled the quiet Stirling Single.

After a bit of silence, she spoke. "Glynn, who was the one moving you around?"

"I can't say who but I can say who it wasn't," replied the old coffeepot engine. "It wasn't James, if you're worried about him."

"I wasn't," huffed Emily. "But why can't you tell us?"

"Because they could get in trouble."

…

As quickly as he had left, James was nearly approaching the Fat Controller's office when he heard the voice of the man he was looking for. It came from behind the train of vans to his right.

"Come on, then. To the Ffarquhar Branch Line, chap," whispered the Fat Controller.

Suspicion began to overtake the red tender engine's thoughts as steam wheeshed out in heavy clouds. His crew, who had lost control of James, were startled as they saw his steam pressure rise alarmingly.

"James, please-!" exclaimed Fred.

The sound of a steam engine starting was heard and within seconds, the sound began to drift away. From where he was, James could only see the steam being puffed out from the other steam engine's funnel. Not wanting to get caught after getting an idea, James stayed silent. The steam engine had gone towards the direction James had come from and switched onto the Main Line. As soon as the other engine did, James rushed to the turntable in Tidmouth Sheds, had himself turned around, and chased after them.

…

The sun had fully set by then so the path was dark. Luckily, James had the headlamp on top of his smokebox, so he could travel without his snow-covered snowplow partially blocking the light source. He was a good distance behind the unknown engine as he could barely see the red tail lamp. When they slowed down, James followed suit at the same time, hoping the other engine couldn't hear him.

It seemed to have worked as the other engine didn't say or utter anything. Soon enough, the engine arrived at the siding Glynn had been found at. Slowly and carefully, they were switched to the siding and stopped once they were fully on it.

Without realizing he was holding his steam, James slowly crept towards the engine. His lamp began to shine on the snow closest to the engine when they spoke up.

"He's no' here, sir," spoke the engine. "They've found him."

As soon as words began to slip out of the obscured engine's lips, James fumed. He knew exactly who it was.

"Edward!" he hollered furiously as he rushed forward for his lamp to shine on the engine's tender. Like a deer in headlights, the light revealed the blue tender with the number 2 in its unrecognizable colors of yellow and red. Fury bubbled within James as the words Edward had told him years ago taunted him.

"I'm sorry. I wish I ken. If I did, I wid tell ye."

"Bloody bastard!" exclaimed James as he slowly approached the blue tender engine, ignoring Fred and George’s scolding. "You're supposed to be my friend! You bloody bastard!" he continued as burning hot steam bellowed from his nostrils and the light of his lamp slowly shined across Edward, towards the latter’s front.

Edward hadn’t moved an inch or said a word the moment he was caught. The Fat Controller, however, climbed out of the cab to confront the furious red tender engine, and it seemed to be enough for the engine to crack.

James was outright sobbing. "You lied to me!" he hollered at Edward, purposely ignoring the approaching controller. "And not just me! You lied to everyone!"

There was no response.

"You even lied to Emily."

Edward mumbled something.

"Well-?"

"I'm sorry!" cried out the blue medium-sized tender engine, his voice being silenced by his snowplow. "I'm sorry, I'm sae sorry, James!"

"You're sorry?" James laughed in disbelief. "You're sorry for what? Lying?"

"I'm sorry," Edward repeated, shaking. "I should've said somethin' sooner. I should've-!"

"You very damn well should've!" James yelled back. His tone and volume made Edward tense and frightened. "I asked you about him, and you told me you didn't know! You lied!"

"I had tae!"

"Had to?" fumed the red medium-sized tender engine. "Had to? What? Was your life at stake? Were you being threatened?"

"Naw-!"

"Then what's your shit excuse?"

"That's enough! Both of you!" exclaimed the Fat Controller. "We're heading back to Tidmouth. We'll explain everything, James."

"To everyone?" he spat out. "Or are you both going to wait until the others find out?"

"James-!"

"Answer me!"

"It will be to everyone!" The Fat Controller was becoming frustrated. "I do not like this behavior-."

"Then you shouldn't have lied!"

"James-!"

"No!" he interrupted again. "You told us that he was scrapped. We expected him to be scrapped! But oops! He's actually alive! I may have lied about his livelihood but I still should be respected as if I've done nothing wrong!" cried out James, mocking the Fat Controller.

"James, please!" winced Edward, growing worried about what could happen.

"I'm not keeping my smokebox shut the same way you did!" continued James before letting out a heavy huff, wheeshing steam that was hot enough to melt the surrounding snow. "You know what! I'm not sticking around to hear your bullshit. I've had enough of it." With that, James reversed on the line as the Fat Controller called out for him and Edward remained quiet. As he did so, he spoke again. "Edward, if you're hiding something else, you better tell me or I'm not sticking around you anymore."

The engine didn't respond and James couldn't see Edward's face. However, the sudden bellows of steam was enough of an answer.

"I'm going back to my shed," he muttered, leaving the group behind.

Once James was far away, Edward cried, though still trying to hold it in. His cries were strangled as he huffed and sniffled. His crew and the Fat Controller rushed to the front of the engine. They did what they could to console the elderly engine but he continued to sob. He didn't need this consoling. If anything, he was the last engine who needed it. What about the others? What about his friends? What about them?

…

Once James and his crew arrived at Kildane Sheds, his crew scolded him severely. "What were you thinking? Using such crass language like that?" scolded Fred. "If you wanted to get yourself shut up in the shed, then you've done yourself the favor."

"I can't believe you're defending him!" exclaimed James as water in his boiler bubbled furiously.

"We are not!" shot back his driver, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair roughly. "We get that you're upset, but that wasn't the proper way to respond!"

"Ooo, you sound just like Duck!"

"James!"

"You can go now!" he sneered. "I'd prefer to be alone before the others get here."

"But you're by yourself for tonight," retorted George calmly.

"E-Exactly!" sputtered James, having slightly forgotten.

George let out a sigh as Fred simply left to go home. As his fireman climbed out of his cab once James' firebox was cleared out, he taunted lightly, "Talk about being a close friend."

That struck a tube for James. "What are you talking about?"

"I get you're upset with Edward, old chap," continued George, ignoring the sudden audible fuming from his engine as he walked toward the front. "But don't you think you might've taken it a little too far?"

"Nonsense! Close friends don't lie to each other!"

"Mm, true. But do you even know why he lied?"

"I don't need to," huffed James. "I wasn't even on this railway for a month, yet he was already lying to me."

"Right," replied his fireman, still speaking in a calm tone. By then, he was standing in front of James. "But still, don't you think you took it too far with your threat?"

James' eyebrows furrowed. His eyes fidgeted around as he tried to process what his fireman said. "...My threat?"

"Yes, your threat," scolded his fireman. "They were in the wrong, yes, but so are you. You told Edward to tell you a secret he's hiding or you're not friends with him anymore. That is a threat, James."

"I'm not going to use it against him! That's just low."

"This isn't about blackmail, James. This is about respect. You have your own secrets, don't you?"

The red medium-sized tender engine hummed in annoyance, which only revealed that he, too, was just as guilty.

"There's a reason why people, or engines in your case, keep certain things as secrets, but it's usually out of the same one."

"And what is that?"

"Fear."

"But…" Guilt began to creep within his boiler. "What was Edward so afraid of?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Not after I yelled at him!" he exclaimed with fear written all over his face.

"I don't mean now!" reassured his fireman. "Whenever you both are ready to talk."

"Edward will never be," mumbled the red medium-sized tender engine, squeezing his eyes shut. "I yelled at him and just left him behind in the dark. I threatened him with no longer being friends. I even called him crass things."

"Then figure it out. Just know that it can’t continue to be like this."

"I know," replied James.

With that, George walked out of the shed. As he shut the doors to James' berth, he called out, "Good night, James."

"Good night, mister."

…

"...and ever since then, I've been movin' him around."

It was very late into the cold December evening at Tidmouth Yards, just outside the roundhouse. Eyes of purple, brown, and green watched the warm-brass-eyed tender engine carefully as the story came to an end. Said engine looked down, acknowledging his fault and giving his sincere apology. He didn't care if they forgave him and accepted his apology.

That hadn't gone so well with James.

And as expected, Emily spoke up first. "I can't believe it," she sniffled. "You knew this the whole time and never bothered to tell us."

"Out of all the engines," groaned Gordon. "Out of all the engines, Edward, this is beneath you."

"I can't imagine how James reacted," hummed Henry, a bit worried for the red engine.

"There's a reason why he's no' here," replied Edward, slowly looking up at the other three engines. "I wish I could've told ye three sooner. I'm sae sorry."

"Well, if you want forgiveness, you're not getting any," retorted Gordon, whose demeanor was the complete opposite of what he showed outside. If anything, he was ready to burst. "I've had quite enough for today." Slowly, Gordon backed down and headed to the roundhouse.

Henry looked solemnly at Edward. "I'm going," he bluntly said before heading off in the same direction. That left Emily and Edward.

"So how did Jimmy react?" Emily asked.

"Terribly."

"What did he say?"

"What I deservit," replied Edward as he let out a sigh. "Emily, I need tae talk tae ye and James. Privately. Withoot yer crew around."

Emily perked up. "What for?"

"I'll tell ye when we get James." His voice was shaken. "Please. I need tae talk tae ye both."

…

At Kildane Sheds, James was deep in his sleep when two engines backed into the berths next to him, Edward being the closest.

"James!" Emily exclaimed hastily as their crews dropped their fires. "Jimmy, wake up!"

The red medium-sized tender engine groaned as he woke up. With a quick shake, his eyes fluttered open and he opened his smokebox. He would've said something if seeing Edward hadn't kept his mouth shut.

"James, I need tae talk tae ye both," said Edward.

"Don't," replied James. "Forget what I said earlier. I shouldn't have threatened you like that."

"I'm no’ tellin’ ye because o’ thon, James," said Edward sternly. The tone of urgency was there, and James could sense it, much to the other two's relief. "I'm tellin’ ye this because I want tae."

Heterochromatic eyes glanced between warm brass eyes and purple eyes. Once the crews had left, he replied with hesitation, "Okay. Shoot. Whiff and Scruff are working overnight.”

Panic rose within Edward. He was really about to do this, and he couldn't go back.

"Dae either o’ ye ken an engine namit Goldilocks?" he asked.

James froze as the name rang around in his smokebox. "W-What class are they?" he asked, shaken.

"You mean that Larger Seagull from the Furness Railway?" asked Emily.

"Aye, her," replied Edward.

James' eyes frantically looked around. His old friend. One of the seven Furness Railway 21s he was friends with, that he was shedmates with.

What did Goldi have to do with Edward?

"I've always known where I've come frae and whit class I am," continued Edward. His breath was shaking. "Or ance wis."

"But what does Goldilocks have to do with that?" asked Emily, confused.

Edward let out a soft laughter, one of a broken heart. "Goldilocks wis ane o’ ma seven baby sisters," he replied. "I'm the auldest o’ yon Furness Railway 21s." He looked over at James. "I wis ance known as Alice. Dae ye remember me, Nine-Twenty?"

And everything came full force.

It was the middle of a sunny, spring day as Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway's Number 920 traveled towards a junction with a goods train. Everything was going well that day. He arrived on time with all of his trains and he would continue to do so if he kept his current momentum consistent throughout the day. Nothing but a simple day on the line.

But when the junction came into view, something went wrong. His signal was green, so he had the right of way.

Not the loaned Furness Railway engine heading straight towards him.

The poor Class 28 cried out as he pulled on his brakes. The Larger Seagull followed suit but the weight of the passenger express coaches pushed against the Deep-Indian-red engine. Both engines drew closer and closer to one another, the same way the inevitable crash would.

But the crash never happened.

Just their luck, the signalman maneuvered quick enough to change the points, diverting both to opposite lines. 920 was sent to a siding while the Larger Seagull was switched to another track, continuing her trip.

As the day went on, 920 was never explained the cause so he assumed that the Larger Seagull was at fault. "Alice is truly her class' namesake!" he vented to his older sister, 743. He had just learned the Larger Seagull's name. Unbeknownst to him, Alice’s eyesight was not to blame. Her signal had been broken and the message alerting her hadn’t been sent in time. Said engine had been distressed for the rest of her stay as soon as word got out of the incident. Her reputation had only worsened, and so did her hostile behavior.

"It was you," whispered James. "You're that Larger Seagull that came over to the L n' YR."

"And the one who came over to help build the North Western," continued Emily. She observed her close friend. "What happened?"

Edward looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. It was enough for James and Emily to not push any further. "No’ taeday. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," reassured Emily. "You can tell us when you're ready."

"Thank ye. Both o’ ye," he whispered. "Please, dinnae tell anyone. Naw ane else can ken."

"Have you told someone else?" asked James.

“Aye. I’ve told Thomas but that wis… ten years ago. Be- The Fat Controller, I mean!" he quickly corrected himself. The slight burn of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by either engine. After all these years, the elderly blue engine still saw the Fat Controller as a close friend, not just as his owner. "Then there’s Glynn and a few others."

Emily couldn’t shake the question away. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It’s because o’ Sir Louis.”

“The Other Fat Controller?”

“Aye. Sir Louis threatenit tae scrap me and the other original North Westerners if anyane caught wind o’ whit happenit. I knen he’s long gone but I jist- Jist dinnae tell anyane else. If British Railways finds oot, it's over and we can all kiss thon partial independence guidbye.”

“And what about Glynn?” asked James.

“It had everythin’ tae dae wit’ money,” Edward replied. “Glynn broke down but the railway could’nae afford the repairs sae he wis withdrawn until they could. We’ve kept it a secret since then because we didnae wantit to bring yer hopes up. Glynn’s repairs never happenit, sae the board wanit him tae be scrappit. However, the Fat Controller wis determinit tae keep him sae he liet tae the board. James, when ye were bought around the time Glynn broke down, the railway wis already at a terrible financial point. Why dae ye think we were being rushit oan our wheels around thon time?”

“So it was because of me?”

“Naw, naw!” reassured Edward, recalling James’ now-long-gone fear. “It wis because o’ the Nineteen-Twenty Locomotive Loans when yer sister and Goldilocks came over wit’ those other Mainlanders. Those loans made everythin’ worse. Honestly, I dinnae ken whit Sir Louis wis thinkin’ around thon time.” He looked over at Emily. “He bought ye, Emily, in nineteen-nineteen, yet ye didnae enter service until nineteen-twenty-ane. Then he bought Henry in nineteen-twenty-two but we… all ken how thon went. Instead o’ cooperatin’ wit’ the police, he kept those engines for the first year the Amalgamation took effect until he got Gordon in March of thon year. After nineteen-twenty-three, he let thaim go. He didnae keep any o’ thaim like we thought he would.”

“Jasmine wasn’t kidding when she said it was bad.”

“It was terrible,” piped up Emily. “Sir Louis was… some man.”

“You’re being a little too nice about him,” James noted, only for Emily and Edward to laugh. “What? It’s true! You both know that.”

“Only ye would think thon,” teased the blue medium-sized tender engine.

James huffed playfully until his expression fell slightly. With a heavy sigh, he looked over at Edward. “Edward, I… I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier.”

“Dinnae worry aboot it-”

“No, listen. I don’t know how you didn’t break then and there, but I’m sorry. It didn’t matter what you did. I still shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m surprised you wanted to talk to me that soon.”

Edward mentally hissed but he kept quiet. James didn’t need to feel any more guilty for making him upset. It wasn’t important, but Emily thought otherwise. “He did break apart,” she bluntly said.

“Emily-!” whispered Edward hastily.

“No, hush! You can’t keep hiding this kind of thing over and over again, Edward.”

“It’s no’ important-!” he said hastily, avoiding the look James was giving him by looking straight forward into the snowy evening.

“Important, my firebox!” she scolded with good intention. “You came into the yards shaking with black stains on your face and snowplow before you broke down again.”

“I-!”

CRUNCH-SCREECH!

The sound would’ve been terrifying if neither engine had been aware of what happened.

The red medium-sized tender engine had shifted his weight on his chassis, which allowed him to lean onto Edward. The horrible sound of metal being crushed and scratched had been James’s handrails scratching against the blue medium-sized tender engine’s boiler. By then, their boilers had cooled down, thanks to the cold December weather. The feeling, however, was anything but cold iron. Edward was stunned as tears welled in his eyes, only for Emily to follow James right after.

“We’re still friends, right?” muttered James.

“O’ course, we ur,” replied Edward, letting out soft cries and his tears. The other two engines let their watery eyes cry at the same time. The cold air wasn’t enough to beat the tears as stains of coal dust mixed with the water were left behind on their faces.

…

The following morning, the three engines were awakened with exciting news: Glynn would be restored and preserved at Ulfstead Castle, alongside Stephen and Millie. Sir Topham Hatt II had been more than happy to allow his engines to visit the coffeepot engine as soon as Glynn began work at the estate. While the North Westerners were joyfully celebrating Glynn’s arrival to the Earl’s estate, another engine wasn’t too keen.

#my writing #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte emily #ttte glynn #ttte thomas #ttte percy #the rewritten railway au #the lovely rewritten railway au #ttte henry #ttte gordon #muxse ttte: sir bertram topham hatt II #muxse ttte: sir louis topham hatt I #ttte fic #ttte #ttte au #cerenemuxse

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cerenemuxse · 1 year ago

Text

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - "Troublesome" Trucks

CW/TW: Swearing

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 674

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

The following day, James left Kildane Sheds as quickly as possible to Tidmouth Yards to meet up with Edward, who he'd managed to get a space at Tidmouth Sheds for the night and pick up the Honeypot coaches.

When James pulled into Tidmouth Yards, he was about to head for the carriage sheds when he saw something blocking his path. "What the…" His path was blocked by a goods train—a weird one at that. There were odd large boxes randomly placed within the trucks, which were full of stone. The bright red medium-sized tender engine could care though. This train was in his way. But as he was about to switch points, Diesel came roaring into the yard. “‘Ey! Don’t touch those trucks, red rusty! That's my train right there."

Of course, James thought. He knew the shunters at Tidmouth well enough to know that they wouldn't leave this sort of mess. "What're you doing here? You work at Vicarstown, not Tidmouth," he scolded.

"I need to show Sir Topham Hatt something really special," Diesel replied smugly with a snicker. "You better not move them. I'm going to need them in a moment." With that, Diesel laughed as he rolled away, his wheels whirring as he headed to the platform of the Fat Controller's office.

James groaned and rolled his eyes. "Ugh! I don't have the time for this," he exasperated. He backed away and switched over to the line where the oddly placed train started. As one of the yardmen coupled him up, Edward appeared from the roundhouse that was Tidmouth Shed.

"Guid mornin', James!" exclaimed Edward as he left the roundhouse. "Whit've ye got?"

"Some goods train some-engine left. I can't get to the coaches with this in the way," James replied. With a whiff and a puff, he tried to pull but the small train wouldn't budge.

Meanwhile, in the south area of the yard, the Fat Controller walked out of his office with a clipboard in hand. Today was the day before The Great Railway Show, and Sir Topham Hatt II needed to look for the final contestant he planned on taking. He looked around, hoping to find them but only saw Donald heading in his direction.

"Hold it right there, Donald!" he exclaimed.

The navy blue tender engine came to a halt. "Is thare a problem, sir?"

"Have you seen James? I need to speak with him."

"I saw him up near the carriage shed, sir."

"Good. I need you to take me there then."

"O’ course, sir!"

The Fat Controller quickly climbed into Donald's cab. With two whistles and a puff, Donald backed down the track.

James struggled to move the train. "Oh, come on!" he huffed. He blasted his whistle as loud as he could and continued to pull.

Edward was about to move forward when he noticed something odd. He frowned. His eyes could've been playing tricks on him but those big boxes…

Are they moving by themselves?

"Uh, James?" called out Edward, right as an engine stormed by. "Those boxes. They're movin’ by thaimselves!"

The noise of rails rattling had muffled most of Edward's sentence, only allowing James to catch on to the last bit. "Yes, I'm moving them by myself! Just-"

The trucks bashed against him.

“Shit!” Frightened, James accidentally released his brakes, making it easier for the “trucks” to push against him. "Hey, stop! Stop!" he yelled as he slipped and was pushed back.

Edward hollered out as he rushed towards him. "James!"

Donald arrived with the Fat Controller, who peaked out of the engine’s cab to see James being pushed. "James?" he hollered as Donald popped open his smokebox door to see the same thing.

The navy blue six-driver gasped, realizing that something wasn't right. Shutting his smokebox door, he quickly moved forward, away from the area right as Norman passed by. "Norman, stop!" he hollered.

Diesel rushed back and exclaimed, "My surprise!"

Edward saw Norman coming right after, immediately pulling on his brakes. "James!"

James and Norman screamed as they collided.

#ttte edward #ttte james #ttte donald #muxse ttte: sir bertram topham hatt II #ttte diesel #ttte norman #tgr 2x5 roleswap au #my writing #ttte au #ttte fic #ttte #tgr but there's a roleswap #cerenemuxse

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cerenemuxse · 2 years ago

Text

An Engine of Many Colors

March 1970 (with a time skip to mid-April 1970)

CW/TW: Panic attack

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

After James is hauled to the Steamworks by Edward, the once bright red medium-sized tender engine begins to worry about his paintwork. But should that really be the biggest of his concerns?

The way to Crovan's Gate Steamworks took a while. The silence was tense, even with the occasional humming from the engine hauling him. Said engine tried speaking to James earlier, but the latter stayed quiet. He was deep in his own thoughts for what seemed like the first time in his life.

James didn't like it one bit.

A bright red medium-sized tender engine screeched to a halt at Kildane Station. "Here's James!"

"Jimmy, don't do that!" scolded Emily as she arrived at the station with the Emerald. "You're going to seriously damage your brakes!"

"Oh, relax, Emi," huffed James. "I haven't had any problems with them ever since my wooden brakes were replaced. I'll be fine!"

"They were wooden, James! You're wearing this pair much too fast. Keep doing that if you want to have another crash!" the green medium-sized tender engine huffed. Her crew patted her cab to soothe her anger and worries.

"It won't happen to a splendid red engine like me."

"Mhm…" she hummed, unconvinced. She suddenly perked up. "Now that you mentioned red, did you hear about Rosie?"

"Rosie? What does she have to do with red?"

"You haven't seen her? She was repainted red recently!"

"Repainted red? What red?"

Emily didn't respond as her guard blew their whistle. She began to leave.

"Like red red? James red? Splendid red? Are you teasing?" he exclaimed hysterically.

But Emily left without a response.

"Emi? Emi? Emily!"

"Och, slow down, James! Ye're goin way too fast!" exclaimed Edward in a stern tone as James quickly approached him.

James laughed proudly as he got closer. "I am the fastest red engine on Sodor, after all!" he exclaimed, rushing past the other engine. As he did, he barely caught on to what Edward said.

"Keep goin like thon, and ye're goin tae have another crash!"

"Rosie! Help!"

He passed by extremely fast and could barely hear her gasp and yell, "James!"

"Molly, get out!" he exclaimed. "Get out of the shed!"

"James?"

He snapped back into reality and looked around. He was at the Steamworks, sitting in the middle track directed towards the turntable. He looked to his right to see the blue medium-sized tender engine being turned to the track next to him.

"I'll shunt ye ontae the turntable and intae an open space. Give me a minute," said Edward. He moved back, switched to the track James was on, and carefully shunted the flatbed James was on.

James stayed quiet as he was shunted. His frame creaked and groaned. He braced himself, ready to hear an angry tone of some sort.

But it never came.

"Are ye alricht?" began Edward, "Other than whit happenit, o course." He backed down, giving the red engine some space.

Well, once red engine.

James was covered in dust and his paint was scratched up, with large areas having been stripped off by the collision. Large dents were made in his boiler and firebox from the large chunks of brick and concrete collapsing in him. His funnel was crushed by the same debris. His entire buffer beam had fallen off at the site of the accident, Tidmouth Sheds, with his headlamp and left boiler handrail. His left cab handrail was barely hanging on. His pony truck was ready to break off with the amount of rubble that had gotten stuck in his chassis. His boiler dome was no longer shiny and a chunk of the brass covering was missing. His brass whistle and safety valve were completely destroyed. His running board was crushed inwards, damaging his sandboxes and splashers.

The only color on the engine was his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.

He refused to look at Edward, who sat on the turntable. He's so mad, I just know it, he thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"James?" he asked once again.

"I'm sorry for what I did. I really am," he muttered quickly. His fear slipped right through. "I should've listened. I should've-"

"Whoa, keep the heid!" interrupted Edward. "We ken ye are. Ye've… apologizit enough at Tidmouth."

"But is it going to fix the stunt I pulled?" yelled James, opening his eyes.

Edward didn't respond.

"Just as I thought."

"But did ye learn?"

James looked at him.

"Did ye learn? Did ye finally learn yer lesson?"

"Of course I did," James replied bitterly. "I'm not that moronic."

"Awbody said ye were," said Edward, with a hint of sternness in his tone. He then sighed. "I need tae leave. Dae ye want me tae brin everyane else?"

"I rather you not," he huffed out. His eyes began to burn so he squeezed them shut. "Just go away." His lips straightened tightly, strained into a thin line.

"Alricht," replied Edward as he was turned around. "Git better soon." With a single solemn whistle, he left.

Once James saw that he was gone, he let those tears of anger go. "I've really messed up, big time." He looked up at the ceiling, or rather the sunroof, of the Steamworks as his vision blurred from the tears trickling down his cheeks. The mixture of coal dust and water began to stain his chubby dusty cheeks, mixing with the dust. "I didn't listen to the two warnings I was given. Two bloody warnings! No, three!" His breath was becoming uneven. Had his fire been lit, his face would've burned and his boiler would've bubbled to a near breaking point. "And not only did I destroy the sheds, but I nearly got one of my friends hurt." James took a deep breath, attempting to recompose himself. "Some friend I am. I can kiss my red paintwork goodbye at this point."

"Ah. Hello to you, too, my friend."

James jerked and looked to his right. Victor was there as Kevin strolled right up to him.

"H-How long have you been there?" he sputtered out. Embarrassed, he tried not to sniffle and immediately looked away from Victor and Kevin.

"Not too long," replied Victor. "Now, what was that about your paint?"

"That I can kiss it goodbye, that's for sure," he huffed reluctantly with a sigh. "Many years ago, the Fat Controller threatened to paint me blue if I ever misbehaved."

"But you've done so multiple times," said Kevin. "Just last year, you were here after pulling that stunt with that heavy goods train!"

"Well, he's definitely not letting me get away with it this time. What I just did tops it all off."

Victor and Kevin could only keep quiet, quickly glancing at one another with a knowing frown.

"When is he passing by?"

"Tomorrow," replied Victor.

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? Why not today?"

"He's reassigning all the engines of Tidmouth Sheds to other places. It'll take months to rebuild the sheds."

"Rebuild?" Oh goodness, please don't tell me. Don't let it be, don't let it be! "What do you mean?"

"He was on the phone with one of the workmen when the rest of the sheds collapsed," Victor replied. "Even then, the sheds were going to need to be rebuilt."

""Even then?" Why?"

"When was Tidmouth Sheds built?"

"Uhm, nineteen-thirty-nine."

"Aie, aie, aie. I'm not surprised then."

"What happened?"

"They found a lot of safety violations before the rest of the sheds collapsed," said Kevin, rocking on his wheels. Just staring at him made James feel a bit dizzy. "And if there's one thing they've learned in the past few decades, is that old buildings failing to meet the safety requirements mean a lot of trouble."

"And it's going to take months?" James stared ahead. "Oh, I really messed up."

"Look on the bright side!" exclaimed Kevin. "At least they found this out before anything else happened! Those sheds would have collapsed in the middle of the night if this hadn't happened."

"So it's a good thing I crashed then?" snapped James.

Kevin was stunned.

"We'll leave you be, James," said Victor. He began to usher away the stunned yellow crane. "Get some rest in the meantime! We'll get to your repairs tomorrow morning once we figure out what needs fixing."

James didn't reply as he heard the two machines wander somewhere else. To where? He didn't know. He shut his eyes and eventually fell asleep.

When James opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself going down the Main Line, towards Kildane Station. Jacqueline was there with the branch line coaches, instead of the usual flatbeds of aluminum.

Feeling cheeky, he exclaimed, "Here's James!" and came to a gentle stop.

The large green tank engine looked over and her mouth dropped open.

"Jackie?"

"Votre peinture! C'est bleu!"

"Peinture…?" He paused then gasped. "My paintwork?" he exclaimed.

"Oui! Paintwork, c'est bleu, papa!"

"Bleu?" he exclaimed. He looked around for a reflection, his eyes eventually landing on the glass windows of the station's office building. "Oh no…"

Instead of a bright shining red coat of paint, James had a cerulean blue coat of paint with red lining and boiler bands. The number 6 on his tender was yellow with red lining.

"What happened?" asked Jacqueline.

James would've chuckled at Jacqueline's attempts to speak English if it hadn't been so perfect. Her French accent wasn't bleeding through like it normally did. It was replaced by a thick English accent.

He shook the thought away. "I got what I deserved is what happened."

"Oh… Sir Topham Hatt veut qu'est ce tu tire l'Express."

"Pull the Express?"

"Oui!"

"Pourquoi?"

"Tout le monde est occupé."

"That explains why you're pulling the coaches…"

"Mhm!" Jaqueline's guard blew his whistle. "A plus tard, papa!"

"A plus tard, Jackie!" replied James as he watched his daughter leave Kildane and head to Cronk-Abbey. He sighed, entering Kildane Yards, which was right next to the station and where Kildane Sheds was located.

Or at least that's what he saw before he found himself on the Main Line, passing Vicarstown with the Express. "What in the…?" he said, confused. He noticed he was going incredibly fast, faster than usual. "The coaches are easier to pull this time…" he muttered as he picked up speed. The lightness of the Express coaches made it easier for him as he crossed the viaduct above Vicarstown. He couldn't help but smile proudly. He passed by Molly, who was coming back from the Mainland.

"Oh, it feels wonderful to pull the Express!" he boasted.

"Stop showing off, James!" Molly scolded as she thundered by. "Or you're going to have another crash!" she hollered, her voice quickly fading away.

James brushed it off, but as he did, he felt uneasy. His boiler started to boil rapidly, with anxiety. Steam began to build up in his pipes. He began to worry just as he quickly approached the Vicarstown Drawbridge. He braked when he saw the toll down and the drawbridge going up. But he wasn't slowing down.

The horrible screeching from his brakes snapping hard onto his wheels returned. He winced at the sound, then gasped as he got closer and closer to the drawbridge, not slowing down.

"Wait, no! Stop! Stop!"

No matter how hard he braked, he couldn't stop. Soon, James broke through the toll and-

James screamed as he woke up. He jerked around, becoming aware of where he was at.

He was at the Steamworks but in the air. He looked up to see he was on the lift. Looking around, inspecting his surroundings, he saw Harvey approaching him with the night shift workman, carrying sheets of metal.

"James, is everything alright?" asked Harvey, turning his crane arm away from his view.

James' mouth straightened tightly as he looked away. He stumbled with his words, making frustrated noises. "Everything's fine," he huffed, shutting his eyes once more.

Harvey hummed, concerned. However, he didn't want to prod so he left him alone, going back to work.

Once he was sure Harvey was gone, he opened his eyes, looking around. Just then, he heard Henry's whistle.

"The Flying Kipper," he whispered as he looked to his left. Sure enough, Henry passed by with the Flying Kipper, which James had still yet to grow fond of. He hummed, yawned, and dozed off.

"James? James, wake up!"

James groaned as he cracked open his eyes slowly. He winced as the bright light of the sun startled his vision. "Is it morning already?"

"It's been morning since you got here!" exclaimed the voice.

"Percy?" James asked.

"Yes?" replied Percy.

Once James' eyes adjusted to the change of lighting, he looked around to find Percy shunting a goods train. "Is this Tidmouth Yards?" he asked, recognizing the surrounding area.

"Um, yes," replied the small green saddle-tank engine. "Are you okay? You seem really out of it."

"Huh?" James shook his frame. "I'm fine!"

"Good because your goods train is ready to go!"

"What?"

"Your goods train to Vicarstown. Now hurry up, or you're going to be late!" huffed Percy impatiently before quickly rushing away.

James was left stunned as he moved to collect his goods train. As he did, he caught onto his reflection in one of the windows of a nearby building. He gasped. "Not again!"

Instead of red, he was apple green like Henry, Percy, Emily, and Jacqueline. In fact, like many of the NWR engines. But like Henry, Percy, and Jacqueline, all of his lining was red.

"That's just great," he laughed halfheartedly. "Not unique for my own paintwork anymore. Not like I was before, anyways." He wheeshed heavily as a yardman coupled him to the goods train.

But once again, he found himself already moving, passing by Wellsworth Station. And again, he felt different. The goods train felt lighter than usual, considering it was unusually much longer than what he normally took.

"Huh, everything feels much lighter…" he noted. He thought for a moment. "Those Express coaches felt lighter, and now the goods trains. Maybe it has to do with my paintwork! I was blue like Gordon, and he pulls the Afternoon Express. And now I'm green, like Henry! He's strong, and so are Emily and Jacqueline. Even little Percy is strong, at least on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," he whispered. "Strong and green, that's what I'll be!" he exclaimed with pride as his mood brightened up.

Approaching Gordon's Hill, he thundered up the hill with ease. On the way up, he saw Rosie. The opportunity to be a tease was too good to resist! "Hey, Rosie!" he called out to the struggling red tank engine. “You should be painted green like me! Then you wouldn't be struggling so much!"

Rosie huffed in annoyance as he kept going. "Oh, stop showing off, James or you're going to have another crash!"

James laughed with pride, ignoring the warning and the heavy feeling that loomed over him, as he reached the peak and passed through Maron. Once he did, he reached the east incline of Gordon's Hill and began going downhill. He didn't notice that the incline was abnormally steep, as he was too much in a good mood. "This is easy, easier than ever!" he exclaimed, the euphoria of his dream getting to him.

He had forgotten it was a dream, though.

Suddenly, James squinted when he noticed something ahead. He gasped, realizing what, or rather who it was. Braking harshly, he hollered, "Edward, watch out!"

He couldn't tell if the blue medium-sized tender engine had heard him. It wouldn't have mattered as James quickly got closer and closer to Edward's brake van, attached to the end of his goods train. James screamed in fear-

"No!"

Victor, Kevin, Stafford, and Harvey looked at James on the lift, who suddenly jerked awake. One of the workmen, who had been inspecting James, fell off the ladder. Thankfully, a few other workers caught him before he hit the ground.

"James!" exclaimed Victor, approaching the engine on the lift.

The damaged red medium-sized tender engine opened his eyes, wincing when the bright lights of the Steamworks hit him. "Not again," he muttered.

"James, what's wrong?"

"You woke up with a start!" exclaimed Stafford, as he shunted a few materials to the back of the Steamworks.

James fumbled his words. Not wanting to lose the last bit of pride he had, he huffed. "Nothing's wrong!" he replied, his voice cracking. "It's nothing!" He looked ahead at the dark evening sky. "It's nothing…"

The Steamworks engines weren't convinced but they didn't want to press on. So they continued their work as James dozed off to sleep once more. The light of the moon shined bright through the sunroof of the Steamworks.

When James opened his eyes, he was greeted with the bright light of the sun once again and found himself at the Boxford Summerhouse. He winced as the bright light pierced his eyes, wheeshing heavily.

"James, that's no way to greet anyone!" scolded what sounded like a woman.

James recognized the voice, his eyes opening wide in shock. The Duchess of Boxford! he thought. "Ma'am, hello!" he replied as nonchalantly as possible and looked at the Duchess, who was accompanied by the Duke. "Good day to you, sir!"

The Duke of Boxford chuckled. "Good day to you as well, chap," he replied. "Thank you for filling in for Spencer while he's in for maintenance." He walked up to one of the red coaches that James realized he had been coupled up to.

"I must say," said the Duchess of Boxford. "You are looking quite smart with that silver paintwork," she commented as she got into the coach and her husband offered his hand.

As she climbed on, James gasped. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Silver? Silver?" He flipped his smokebox door open and spotted the glass window of the tiny house on the platform. "Like him?" he exclaimed in horror.

Unfortunately, he was silver with white lining. Just. Like. Spencer. Oh, how much he despised that streamlined silver engine.

James fumed as he closed his smokebox door shut, heavily wheeshing once again. He muttered under his breath, "Him, him! Why him?" Seething through his teeth, steam seeping through them, he whistled twice and moved along.

But this time, the scene didn't change suddenly.

He should be happy, relieved even. But he was afraid and uneasy. The feeling crept through his boiler, and he felt tenser than ever.

Once he reached West Maron Hill Junction, he took the track going east on the Main Line. It was located quite awkwardly, so he was going uphill right as he took that track.

As he did, he heard the Duke speak up, "What's wrong, James? You don't seem like yourself today, chap."

James felt even tenser. "Why is that?" he asked back.

"You're not showing off, and you usually do," replied the Duke. "What's wrong?"

"Did you finally learn your lesson?" asked the Duchess.

James wanted to stop but he couldn't. He just kept going forward. He tried using his brakes but they wouldn't budge. It was like he had no control over himself anymore.

"Did you finally learn that if you keep showing off, you'll have another crash?" she asked again, in a mocking manner.

The words "Another crash" echoed from the Duchess of Boxford, repeatedly. Each time it was said, it drove James further into guilt and fear.

It didn't stop there.

"Keep doing that if you want to have another crash!" he heard someone else say from ahead. When he looked, he realized he was in a place he didn't recognize. The ground was flat and he was on the middle track of three lines. It looked like the rails kept going, but that wasn't what startled him.

Emily was on his right, heading towards him. She said again, "Another crash!" in the same tone she had used that morning as she stormed past.

"You should get your brakes checked or you'll have another crash!" was heard from his left. He looked to see Rosie rush by as well, extremely fast. He swore he felt his frame jostle about. "Another crash!" she exclaimed, repeating with Emily.

"Go, rusty iron! Crash!" was heard from his right again, but this time, it was Diesel. He mocked him as he thundered by. "Another crash!" he repeated. "Another crash!"

Soon, engines of the North Western Railway passed by him, hollering "Another crash!" right at him. The tones of disappointment and anger were there. The words "Another crash!" being repeated over and over again became a muddled mess. His mind became overwhelmed.

And when Molly had said the same thing, the fearful tone was obvious as it screamed and rang in his smokebox. He couldn't blame her. His carelessness would have harmed her as she had been sleeping in the sheds when it happened.

As each engine chuffed by, James' frame kept swaying left and right, the fear of being knocked off his wheels rising. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry," he said again, louder, as he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" As he repeated the phrase over and over again, it got louder and louder. Soon, he was screaming, his eyes burning as dirty coal water tears brewed.

But then he heard another voice. One he hadn't heard in decades in his dreams.

"Go on, James. Go on."

That voice, he froze, immediately looking down when he snapped his eyes open. No, no, no, no, no!

"Go on, go on!" The voice said again. James' frame trembled.

You're supposed to be dead! You're supposed to be dead! I saw it, I saw it!

"Look up."

He fell for it, looking up at Jasmine, into her green eyes. She was going backward, right in front of him.

"Go on!" she exclaimed cheekily. "Crash!"

Her sweet laughter echoed all around him as he stayed frozen in place, staring off into space. He was no longer moving, not noticing the disappearance of the coaches behind him or of his surroundings.

Then everything went dark, the pitch blackness of his surroundings only lasting for a moment when a spotlight flashed on, pointing downwards at him. A glow came from below him, making James feel disoriented once he finally snapped out of his frozen state. A circle was what glowed below him, sifting through every single color. The glow lit up his surroundings very slightly but he could tell enough to know that he was in the Steamworks.

The ground shifted. The turntable, he realized. It began to turn slowly but it soon picked up speed, flashing rapidly as it cycled through many colors. His paintwork began changing colors.

He felt uneasy, and the boiling anxiety within him returned. His breaths became short and uneven.

"No, stop! Stop!" he exclaimed. The turntable spun faster and faster. "Make it stop! Someone-!"

"-help!"

"James!"

The once-red engine opened his eyes and winced for what seemed like the infinite time he had done so. It was the morning and the sun had just started to rise, the light striking his vision.

"James," said a voice. It came nearby.

James looked to his right, squinting. Once his vision refocused, he gasped. "Sir! Good morning, sir!" He exclaimed, failing to hide his panic.

Sir Topham Hatt II shifted from where he stood, on one of the platforms within the works. He cleared his throat. "James, I think you and I both know what is to happen next, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replied solemnly.

"Good. Now, once your repairs are done, you will be helping out with rebuilding Tidmouth Sheds," he said sternly. "I don't want to hear a single complaint. Understood?"

"U-Understood, sir. Is that all?"

The Fat Controller sighed. "No, that is not all…"

…

In the middle of April, James was released from the Steamworks, his repairs having been completed, and given a new coat of paint. The moment he left the Steamworks, he headed to Tidmouth to begin his work.

On the way there, James wasn't focused. His mind kept wandering off to places he couldn't describe, leaving his crew, who hadn't suffered any serious injuries, to be in control. They had tried speaking to their engine back at Crovan's Gate, but James stayed relatively quiet.

When they approached Wellsworth, James was startled when he heard someone call out for him.

"James, it's ye!"

He slowly looked up to find Edward, who was smiling at him.

"It's guid tae see ye out o' the works," continued Edward. "How ur-?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" said James, quickly. His face began to feel hot and cold.

Although a bit thrown off and worried, Edwsrd didn't push it. "O' course," he replied. "But dae ken thon Emily is stayin' here, too."

"...is she mad?"

The smaller blue tender engine hesitated. "...aye. Very much sae." There was a bit of silence. "Ur ye-?"

"Yes, I'm still staying. I'm gonna have to confront her anyways."

"James, ye ken why she gets like thon."

"I know!" he huffed harshly before biting back his tongue. "But I don’t want to lose her because I avoided her. You and Emily are all that I have left.”

“Whit ur ye talkin’ aboot?”

“I lost the branch line, Edward,” James quickly burst out. “And I’m not getting it back soon.”

“You whit?” His shocked face stared at James. “Och, James…”

“I have to go.”

“Naw, wait! James!”

James quickly left Wellsworth Station. “I’ll be back tonight!” The voice of his friend calling out for him quickly dwindled as he stormed down the line to Tidmouth.

He couldn't think straight. He was tired, exhausted from wheel to funnel. He hadn't been able to sleep, not after waking up from those nightmares. Not even chatting with the Steamworks' engines helped. He just couldn't. He was afraid. He was afraid of hearing any more disappointment, any more anger, any more of anything.

James wasn't a blue engine. He was an engine of many colors.

After much consideration, I have decided to upload this rewrite as part of my contribution to 5/5! It's just been sitting there and I'm a bit impatient xd

Thank you so much to Jay for beta-reading! Very much appreciated. <3

35 notes · View notes

cerenemuxse · 2 years ago

Text

Bittersweet

May 1925

CW/TW: Engine fighting

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

Since his arrival, James has been facing an internal battle between being like everyone else versus being unique. While he’s not sure where he wants to be, he’s certainly sure of two things. His eyes are those of freaks, and when he started to work in the yards, something didn't feel right. Why was he assigned to do shunting first before pulling goods trains? Was there something that they weren't telling him? If so, what else were they hiding?

It's been a week since Glynn disappeared, along with the numbers across James' face. No official word had been made about the coffee pot. The other engines quickly found out about the old red coffeepot's sudden disappearance the day it happened. The realization hit them hard, whether they showed it or not.

Yet Sir Topham Hatt II didn't say anything. None of the other engines asked. James was afraid to ask. Afraid to hear the possibility that Glynn was scrapped.

His red paintwork was dull and there were many chips missings and scratches on it, recalled James. Those must've been signs that he was going to be scrapped.

"James!"

It was a nice color he had. I've never seen a red engine before! Well, not as red as Glynn. Those other red engines were much duller-

"James!" hollered Clarabel once again.

James snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"The station!" exclaimed Annie.

"Stop!" the sister auburn coaches exclaimed.

James looked ahead and gasped. He snapped his brakes on and screeched to a stop. Annie and Clarabel bumped into each other harshly, buffers banging into one another and against James when he stopped at the station. He overshot the platform by a few centimeters, but that was the least of his worries.

Complaints were muttered and exclaimed as the passengers got off the train.

"What is this nonsense?" exclaimed a small woman. James winced. She was so small yet extremely frightening.

"That other engine was much more responsible!" yelled a tall woman. "Bring that one back!"

James down at his buffer beams, holding back any noise. But he can't be.

"This is such a simple job," said a gentleman sternly. "Does this thing not pay attention?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," replied the small woman. "Look at its eyes."

James froze. His eyes went wide open. He quickly looked away, trying to hide them.

"With eyes like that, it's probably blind," muttered the small woman bluntly. She gave James a quick look down before leaving.

Annie and Clarabel were cross. Sure James should've been paying attention but that was uncalled for. The small woman had crossed the line.

"Don't listen to them, James," said Annie in a comforting tone as passengers left and boarded.

"It was an accident," reassured Clarabel. "You're getting better at it! Right, Annie?"

"He is, Clarabel!" replied Annie.

But they didn't get a response.

"James?" they asked worriedly.

"Hm?" James replied. "Oh, sorry. You were saying?"

"Did you not hear what we said?" asked Clarabel.

"Is something the matter?" asked Annie.

"No! Nothing's wrong!" he exclaimed a bit too quickly.

The sister auburn coaches hummed, unconvinced.

"Alright then," said Annie.

"Let's continue now!" said Clarabel enthusiastically.

Right as Clarabel finished, the guard blew his whistle and James was off, down the Ffarquhar Branch Line. The branch that once belonged to Glynn.

James had been ecstatic when he was first told he would work on the line. It was only for trial but it was still something to be excited about. He was able to pull passenger trains, something so unheard of for a goods engine.

Now, he wasn't so sure. He was still trying to time his stops correctly, almost getting them right quickly. James would either overshoot or undershoot the station. Thankfully, the station masters had been kind and understanding.

He wished the passengers were as well.

"The passengers," he mumbled.

"What about the passengers?" piped up his driver, Fred Quill, nonchalantly.

"Nothing, Mr. Quill!" exclaimed James. "I didn't say anything!"

Fred hummed. "If you say so, chap," he said, patting James' cab. "If you want to talk, just let us know."

James didn't reply.

…

"What's gotten into you, chap?" asked Fred. "You've been quieter than usual."

James and his crew had arrived at Tidmouth Yards just a few minutes ago for a rest. The morning rush hour was over, much to their relief. Fred had climbed out of James' cab with George and walked to James' front buffer beam to confront the engine. They were concerned for their engine.

"Than usual?" asked James. He became tense, feeling the metal pipes heat up but stiffen. His boiler felt dry as the moisture vaporized quickly. "I-I just don't know Annie and Clarabel that well, that's all."

"You can't hide it, James," said Fred. "Is this about what they said?"

James' frame was slightly shaking. He popped his smokebox door open and away from his crew. "About what?"

"You know what I'm referring to."

George approached James and patted the engine's black running board, slightly flinching at its searing hot heat from the sun. It was only the near end of spring. "Don't mind those passengers, James. They'll say anything to get under your skin." He paused looking at James quizzically. "Well, paint but you get the idea."

"I know, I know," mumbled James with a pout. "But what if that lady was right? What if there is something wrong with my eyesight? What if-?"

"Calm down, James! Calm down!" exclaimed George, patting James' running board once again.

Fred rushed forward, climbed onto their engine's running board from the steps on James' left side, between the first and second set of driving wheels, and carefully walked towards James' smokebox. He petted James' smokebox. "Easy there, chap. There's nothing wrong with you."

"How do you know?" he exclaimed. His voice croaked and broke. He was ready to burst right then and there.

But then a high-pitched whistle rang nearby. It startled James, making him nearly shake off his driver. Fred held onto James' handrails for dear life.

"Oh, hey, it's Edward!" exclaimed George. He pointed in the direction of where the whistle and sounds of steam being chuffed were coming from. "Why don't you hang out with him?"

James suddenly puffed up. "I'm not a child! I'm an engine!"

"There he is," joked his driver. "But no, seriously, go talk to him. You know him the most, don't you?"

"I do," replied James. He hummed. "I haven't been able to talk to him in a while either."

"It's settled, then." Fred patted James' smokebox before carefully trudging off the black medium-sized tender engine. "We'll be on our break. See you later!"

"See you later!" exclaimed James as his crew walked away and towards the workroom. Right as they left, Edward was there, in front of him on the next track over.

"Hello, James!" greeted Edward. "How ur ye doin?"

James' mood dropped. "Decent," he muttered and looked down at his running board.

Edward peered at the black medium-sized tender engine. "Whit's the matter?" he asked. "Did somethin' happen?"

James gave a long hum in response. He wanted to tell Edward but he wasn't sure. Can I really trust him? he thought. I know him the most though. He looked up to meet Edward's concerned face and straight into his eyes.

Maybe I can trust him.

"James?" asked the blue medium-sized tender engine. James had stayed quiet and was only looking around. It concerned him even more.

With a heavy sigh, James began. "I've been having trouble stopping at stations properly. I keep overshooting or undershooting them."

Edward only hummed. A sign telling James to continue.

Thankfully, James picked up on it. "The passengers have been complaining about it which I don't blame them but…" He took a deep breath to calm down and soothe the tension in his pipes. "One of them said something," he continued, only for his voice to croak and crack. Not again. His frame felt tense so suddenly as his eyes burned from the boiling water and hot steam.

The other engine was about to interfere when James spoke up, with a bit of sniffling here and there.

"Something about my eyes," said James. But then he froze, staring at his black running board in a confused realization. "None of you have said anything about them."

"Whit dae ye mean?" asked Edward.

"The color! How mismatched they are!" James suddenly exclaimed, catching the attention of the yardmen in the area. "They're so… weird! Don't they bother you?"

The blue medium-sized tender engine was stunned. He was speechless at the sudden burst of his friend.

"Well?" James exclaimed again, raising his voice in desperation. "They're horrible, aren't they? I probably overshot those platforms because of poor eyesight!"

"Poor eyesicht?" Edward hummed before flipping his smokebox door open to his right. He squinted, spotting a labeled truck far away. "Ye see thon truck over there? The brown ane wit’ white letterin' near thon building?"

Though he was confused, and slightly offended by the sudden shift of the conversation, James flipped his smokebox door open to his left and quickly found the truck.

"Whit does it say?" asked Edward once James saw what he was looking at.

"South Sodor Grain Mill," James read at his normal pace. He looked quizzically at his friend as he closed his smokebox door. "Why did you want me to read it?"

"I cannae read thon," Edward said bluntly. He shut his smokebox door. "Yer eyesicht is perfectly fine," he noted with a small warm smile.

"But my eyes-!"

"There's nothin' wrong wit’ yer eyes," Edward interrupted.

Confused, James shook. "But they're ugly! It makes me a freak-!"

"I think they're very pretty," said Edward rather bluntly, still smiling.

James froze.

A compliment…?

That was new.

"R-Really?" stammered James as his face burned.

"Mhm," hummed Edward. "Ane is rich brown and the other is lush green. Like a tree! Ye remember the woods we first passit by oan the day ye got here?"

He definitely remembered them. To Edward's credit, the plants in those woods were pretty lush and rich. He hadn't seen an area so green before. A very quiet place with peaceful scenery, in his own opinion.

But are his eyes really as pretty as the woods?

"Ye should be proud o' ‘em," continued Edward. "I have never seen an engine wit’ heterochromatic eyes before. I've seen very few people wit’ ‘em but never an engine. Until ye, that is." Soft laughter took over Edward's voice.

Hold on. "People have eyes like mine?"

"Aye, some people dae, but it's very rare. I've only seen…" Edward hummed, thinking. "Two or three people wit’ ‘em, and they dinnae come here often."

"So it's… unique?"

"Mhm," he hummed again. Seemed like something Edward did often. "It's okay tae be the same like everyane else, and it's okay tae be different frae everyane else."

The phrase struck him. "Is it?"

"Of course!" Edward replied. "Gordon and Henry ur prototypes o' the same class but they're quite different frae ane another. Henry wis basit oan rejectit plans thon were stolen from Sir Gresley, and Gordon wis basit oan the final plans o' the same man, built under his supervision, o' course."

The black medium-sized tender was shocked. He gasped and exclaimed, "Like those big Pacifics in the LNER?"

"Aye! And then there's Emily. She comes frae the Great Northern Railway, and she's the only engine wit' two drivers oan this railway."

"I've heard of the preserved…" He knew the wheel configuration had a name but he didn't know what the name was.

Thankfully, Edward caught on. "GNR Stirling Single."

"Right. Thanks. I've only heard of her, but I didn't know another one had survived." James squinted his eyes as he looked down at his running board. "Emily doesn't look like that preserved engine, though."

"Thon's because she's an A3 Stirling Single, no' an A1 Stirling Single. She wis part o' the eighteen-ninety-four series, built in eighteen-ninety-five." Edward hummed. "I think March wis her build month. No' too sure, though."

"Eighteen-ninety-five?" exclaimed James. "Oh, wow, she's old!"

"Sh!" Edward shushed James hastily. "Dinnae let her hear ye say thon. She'll tell ye thon her sister is much older."

"And when was she built?"

"Eighteen-seventy."

"That class has seen some things…" was all James could say. Eighteen-seventy? he thought. That engine is half a century old at this point!

The blue medium-sized tender engine chuckled. "They certainly have. No', where wis I?" He hummed for a bit, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "Richt! There's Emily, and then there's Glynn. He's an ane o' a kind design and the only ane left frae one o' the North Westerns predecessors." Edward glanced at James. "I have a feelin' he's told ye whit railway he came frae, richt?"

James didn't reply. His face of curiosity was shadowed by one of sorrow and bitterness.

"James?"

The engine in question was pondering at the mention of Glynn. Maybe Edward knows what happened to the coffee pot, he figured.

"James?" asked Edward again, concerned.

"Edward," began James in a bland tone. Or what would've been if his voice wasn't naturally brash. His heterochromatic eyes looked up at Edward. "What happened to Glynn?"

"Glynn?" replied Edward, noting the confusion in James' eyes.

"Yes, him."

"I…" Edward frowned, and his gray face crumpled. "I dinnae ken whit happenit tae him."

"You don't?"

"Naw, I'm…" Edward suddenly cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I wish I ken. If I did, I wid tell ye."

"Has the Fat Director even said anything?"

"Nawthin."

"...Do you think he's hiding something?"

"Pardon?"

"You think the Fat Director's hiding something?"

"Ah, I dinnae ken."

"But he's the director! He has to know what happened to Glynn!" James grew restless.

"Well-"

"Get a move on, Edward!" someone suddenly hollered.

Both engines flung their smokebox doors open to see Henry.

"You're blocking my way! I need to get to that goods train over there."

"Sorry, Henry!" Edward replied hastily. With a swift jerk of his smokebox door, he closed it and quickly moved forward. "Talk tae ye later, James!" he said hastily as he rushed away with a double whistle.

Henry huffed, shot a glare at James, and went on his way.

The black medium-sized tender engine watched the grand green tender engine, still wary of him. Once Henry was gone, James was left by himself to ponder on Glynn's whereabouts once again.

…

"Do you think he's hiding something?"

James felt his driver shuffle his feet on the wooden flooring of his cab. "What?"

"Do you think the Fat Director is hiding something?"

His pistons were pumping loudly, spewing out clouds of steam. Yet, the black medium-sized tender engine managed to catch his driver's hums.

"Maybe," he finally replied after some time.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe, because I don't know what you mean. Why are you asking this?"

"Glynn. Do you think he's hiding Glynn?"

"It's…" Fred paused for a few seconds. "...entirely possible, chap."

"But why?"

"He might be hiding Glynn from the board."

"O-Oh." His fire felt like it had gone out for a split second. "You think…?"

"Well, Glynn could have very well been… scrapped, James."

The silence joined the conversation, uninvited. It was so quiet that the sound of the couplings clanking against one another as he cruised down the Main Line was louder than his pistons.

"...How much is the Fat Director hiding?" asked James bitterly.

"I don't know, James," replied Fred. "I really don't know."

"Does the Fat Director think I'm not capable l?" he asked, raising his voice.

"What are you on about-?"

"How come I was put to work in the yards first when I arrived?"

The silence interfered.

Fred stood still for a moment before shifting around and bringing his attention back to James' gauges. His engine had a point.

"Maybe…" He tried to muster up a logical response. "Maybe it's how they run things here. Edward's a four-leader, four-driver tender engine. Those specific engines were the most powerful express passenger engines for a while until bigger and better engines came along. Now look at him. He's a station pilot."

"I know that!" exclaimed James. "Most of the express passenger engines on the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway were engines like him!"

"Alright, alright!" Fred chuckled. "But you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't think too much about it, chap," he soothed, patting James' cab. "Maybe it's not what you think it is."

James hummed a pout, which only received a light chuckle from his driver.

"But is it?"

…

"It could be."

"Really?"

Purple eyes looked over at him. "I asked him earlier but he didn't say anything. He just left," replied Emily.

A couple of days had passed since the conversation with his crew. The question had racked around his matte black smokebox, pestering him on a day-to-day basis, and went as far as going into the night within his dreams. His dreams were unwelcoming recently, leaving an odd aura within him every time he woke up.

James' lips creased in a straight frown. "Could Glynn have been scrapped?"

"I hope not," she remarked harshly towards the question itself. "Right now is the worst time to have engines being disposed of, and I doubt the Fat Director would allow it to happen. He's been fighting with the board about Glynn's disposition since he became the director."

"Which was…?"

"Nineteen-twenty-three. He's twenty-two years old if you're curious."

The black medium-sized tender engine was gobsmacked. "Twenty-two?" He glanced around before whispering, "No wonder he looks young and old at the same time."

"You saw those gray hairs, didn't you?" Emily chuckled playfully, but James picked up a tone of sadness. "It's what being the director of a railway does to you. Especially when it's so sudden." Before James could say anything, she continued, "The previous director, Sir Louis Topham Hatt the First, Sir Bertram's father, was voted off and Sir Bertram was voted in. He was already working as Glynn's fireman before becoming part of the management team the year before."

"So it didn't get passed down to him?"

"Oh no, not in this family. They pride themselves in earning from hard work."

James paused. His eyes wandered around in thought. Finally, he asked, "How do you know all of this?"

"The Fat Director tended to confide with us engines way before he started working here. He would usually talk to me because I'm, well, the oldest." She paused and peered at James, eyeing him suspiciously. "Unless you're hiding something."

"I'm way younger than you," he replied.

"Really?" She eyed him suspiciously again. Before she could say anything else, James continued.

"October of Nineteen-twelve," he bluntly replied.

"Ah, a Nineteen-tens engine! Not older than me but certainly not younger than the big guys. I thought you'd be around their age by a year or two. Gordon's the youngest of-" Emily paused. Her face went blank with eyes wide open.

"What is it?" asked James, beginning to panic.

Her cheeks burned. "...I went off the rails, didn't I? Oh my…" she muttered, feeling embarrassed. "Where was I?"

"How the Fat Director confided in you."

"Right!" Her expression lightened up. "He used to confide in me but that changed when he began to work here. I don't know what made it happen, but he started to confide in Edward more often. I'm assuming it's because he knows him more. He still confides in me every so often. Just not as much as he does with Edward."

James pondered for a moment. "Do you think Edward knows where Glynn is?" he asked, purposely avoiding the mention that he had asked Edward.

"I've already asked. He has no idea about his whereabouts."

"Oh." He looked away with a solemn frown. Where could he have gone?

"We can only hope that he's just in the works and not withdrawn." Her expression changed to a cheeky one. "You might as well get ready to give back those coaches, James."

"Huh!" James huffed, playing right along. "He'll have to beat me to them!"

Emily let out a laugh. "Go easy on him."

Both engines burst out laughing before Emily bid her temporary farewells and both engines went back to work.

…

James knew that Emily was joking around but her words stayed ingrained in his mind. With every day that passed to the near end of May, he grew anxious and tensions began to rise. Just the other day, he heard what he assumed were Gordon and Edward getting into an argument. Thankfully, Emily intervened, though in a not-so-nice manner. She'd threatened both engines to throw them under the truck and even send a truck at one of them if it continued. It was enough to keep them at bay.

Or at least he thought.

The black medium-sized tender engine was going about his late morning business, having come back from pulling a goods train to Vicarstown. He was idling for a few minutes when he heard a loud ruckus on the other side of Tidmouth Yard. The sounds of buffers bashing against something. The Troublesome Trucks are probably giving Edward a hard time, he thought, so he went to investigate. Maybe I can help.

But when he arrived in the area, he began to wish he hadn't checked.

A scream tore from Gordon's smokebox. "Watch it, little Edward!"

Edward was noticeably irritated. James had never seen him like that before. It frightened him, and he wanted to leave.

"My apologies, but I am watching," Edward retorted slowly, throwing emphasis on his wording. "I cannae see ye behind this line o' trucks, Gordon."

It seemed like they hadn't noticed him. Maybe if he reversed very slowly-

"Oh, what absolute nonsense! We know you can't bloody see anything, Edward."

"Knock it aff wit' the language. I'm no' blind." Edward huffed. "Whit ur ye doin' in this part o' the yard, anyways? The Express coaches aren't here."

"I came looking for my goods train. It's not there."

"Which ane? Ye mean thon stone train frae the Ffarquhar Quarry?"

"Yes, that one," Gordon replied sternly. "Where is it?"

"I dinnae ken. Go ask James. He wis the ane who brought it here, and I told him where tae put it."

"And where did you tell him to put it?"

"Near the big station."

"It's not there."

"Did ye check?"

Gordon froze before he fumed furiously and wheeshed at Edward, startling the blue medium-sized tender engine. James was still there, shocked as Edward's face scrunched up in anger and annoyance.

The grand blue tender engine hated what Edward was implying. "Are you implying that I didn't check? Like a fool?"

"Naw, I'm simply askin'." He dropped his voice to a whisper, muttering something as he continued working.

As Edward pulled the trucks out of Gordon's way, Gordon moved forward and blocked the points. "What did you say?"

"..."

"I heard you-"

"I wid'nae be surprisit if ye were a fool!" Edward hollered, spewing each word with anger. "Listen, please git oot o' my way sae I can go lookin' for it, or ye're goin' tae run late."

Gordon wheeshed again. "I don't take orders from museum displays."

"And I dinnae take orders from a git."

"...What?"

"I'm no' repeatin' maself, or are ye sae much o' a fool?"

The grand blue tender engine fumed, wheeshing heavily.

As James continued to watch, he heard a whistling sound, as if something was about to pop open.

As if a safety valve was about to burst.

He froze when he realized what was about to happen.

And it did.

The black medium-sized tender engine just didn't expect to see Edward be the one who reacted. The blue medium-sized tender engine violently sent the line of trucks flying towards Gordon, nearly knocking the larger blue engine off the rails. The trucks closer to Gordon derailed, and their contents flew out, crates crashing onto the ground.

Thankfully and surprisingly, no one was hurt, but everyone present was shocked.

Gordon was startled and wore a face of fear that glared at the shocked blue medium-sized tender engine. The latter could only stare with shock at the trucks, having realized what he had done. While both engines were in shock, their crews managed to get a hold of themselves. Edward's crew had failed to pull the brakes on time and were busy checking the engine's steam pressure, while Gordon's crew had climbed off to inspect what damage had been done to the engine's running board and frame.

That's when they became aware of James' presence. Quickly, Gordon's crew signaled James' crew to just leave before either of the engines noticed but it was too late.

Two other whistles were heard. Emily and Henry frantically approached the scene, coming from the direction James was in. It caught Edward and Gordon's attention. Once their eyes landed on the black medium-sized tender engine, they realized James watched the whole thing, having frightened him.

Emily dragged James away as quickly and carefully as she could, startling the engine, as Henry pulled Gordon away and Edward pulled the trucks back on the rails. Once James was uncoupled from Emily after being moved far away from the accident, he rushed away and went back to work.

…

Later that evening, James moved into the center berth of Knapford Sheds. Edward and Emily took the first two berths to the left and were in the very back of the shed while Henry and Gordon took the last two berths and right outside, leaving James with some decent space from the two blue engines. Henry was scolding Gordon but it was nothing compared to the earful Emily was giving Edward. Not even Sir Topham Hatt II's scolding could compete with it.

"What were you thinking?" James heard Emily huff hastily. "You frightened the poor thing."

"I ken whit I did wis wrong, okay?" He heard Edward reply. "How's Gordon?"

"He's fine." The bluntness was heavy.

Edward stayed silent.

"If you're hiding something, you know you can tell me." Emily's tone changed to a comforting one. "This isn't like you. What happened?"

"I jist miss Glynn. Thon's all."

Emily hummed. James couldn't see her but he had a strong feeling she was giving Edward a suspicious look. "Okay. Good night then."

"Guid nicht."

And then he heard nothing from the two. The quiet never came as he could only hear what Gordon and Henry were saying.

And that's with him being the closest to them. He was right behind the doors of his berth.

"He's so obsessed over Glynn," he heard Gordon say.

"Don't act like you're not either. You're not yourself either," he heard Henry reply.

Guess they overheard.

"Be glad Emily didn't come right for you."

"Well, she didn't need to. I don't need to be told what to do."

"Gordon, we are big metal machines that were made to do as we are told."

"You know what I meant-"

"Yes. Yes, I know." Henry huffed. "I don't like Edward either but he had a point. You should've gotten out of his way he told you."

"You're such a hypocrite, Henry," Gordon sneered.

"Fine, sod off then. I'm only trying to help." With that, Henry released his brakes and backed into his berth. James quickly squeezed his eyes shut. His relationship with Henry was rocky ever since the grand green tender engine lashed out on him. It wasn't his fault the Fat Director chose to buy him over fixing Henry.

Unfortunately, Henry noticed James being right behind the door.

"So, you were eavesdropping."

"Uh-"

"Huh, I thought you didn't like drama," Henry interrupted. "But then again, you did go and let your curiosity get the best of you earlier."

"I was worried," James replied defensively and hastily. "I heard something really loud so I went to check if something was wrong."

"Well, you got your answer so why didn't you leave?"

"I got scared."

"Figures." Henry stayed quiet for a few seconds before asking. "How did it happen?"

"The argument?"

"Yeah. What else could I be talking about?"

"I don't know."

"That was a rhetorical question."

"Oh. Gordon went to ask Edward where the trucks I left for him were because he couldn't find them. He said they weren't there."

"So it's your fault the argument broke out!"

"No, it's not!" James whispered harshly. "I left them where I was told to leave them, and Gordon said that he looked there but he couldn't find them."

"How do I know that you didn't just forget?"

"I didn't!" he exclaimed, unaware of Gordon backing into the shed, Edward waking up from the noise, and Emily shifting in her sleep.

"I know your memory is bad but I didn't think it'd be this bad. The Fat Director made the right call in making you work in the yards first before pulling actual goods trains."

James froze. "What?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know. You had to have known, right?"

The black medium-sized tender engine stared back at him. The look was ominous, and it bothered Henry.

"Right?"

"No. I didn't," James replied. "Who told you? I was never told about this?"

"You mean Edward never told you?"

There it was, and speaking of the devil.

"Whit's goin' oan?" Edward asked, slowly approaching the front of the shed and yawning. "Is everythin' alricht?"

"Is everything alright?" James mocked, swiftly flinging his smokebox door open. "Of course, everything is alright! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Whit-?"

"Why didn't you tell me the reason why the Fat Director put me to work in the yards first before actually doing my jobs?"

"I-"

"You didn't tell him?" scolded Emily, who was awakened by Edward seconds priors. "Edward!"

"It wis an order frae the Fat Director."

"But you went ahead and told everyone else but me!" exclaimed James. "You know, the engine it was about!"

"James-"

"Is that what you meant by ‘naive’? Is that what you meant?"

"No! I didnae-!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I didnae want tae upset ye!"

"So you went behind my back and told everyone like it was some sort of-" His safety valve felt like it was going to burst. "-gossip?" he shrieked. Emily, Henry, and Gordon were startled by the fuming engine. They started going to the back of the shed.

"That's no' whit I wantit tae happen!"

"You lied to me!"

"I-I didnae! I jist didnae tell ye!" To James, it just sounded like Edward was coming up with excuses. The desperate tone was giving it away. "T-There's a difference!"

"I don't want to hear your excuse!"

"James, please-!"

With a loud BAM! BAM! BAM!, one of the yardmen banged on the open wooden doors of Gordon's berth. "What is going on? Do I really need to call in the director?"

All the engines swiftly looked at the yardman with panic.

After a while of a silent response, the yardman sighed. "All of you better get to sleep. This is your only warning."

Quickly, both Edward and James backed toward the end of their berths while the others shut their eyes. Once they did, the yardman was satisfied and shut all the doors to the sheds. The yardman hadn't felt it but the hot air within the sheds was overwhelming and uncomfortable. It would remain so for the rest of the evening.

So much for a good rest.

…

The following day wasn't any better for James. It wasn't any better for anyone.

Unfortunately for Edward and James, Sir Topham Hatt II found out about the argument as the yardman reported it once his shift ended the following morning. Edward was already placed on restricted shunting duty in Tidmouth Yards, so placing James with the blue engine would only allow the chance for a fight to break out. Instead, he sent James to work in Vicarstown for the week and gave temporary berth assignments to the engines.

In the evening, all the engines had gathered in Tidmouth Yards as asked by Sir Topham Hatt II. He was furious with his engine's recent behavior, though he had a sneaking suspicion about what was causing it, and it could very well be his fault.

"I am extremely disappointed with everyone's behavior lately. Picking fights like children in a schoolyard," the Fat Director scolded. His voice boomed around the yard to which the engines flinched at. "What has gotten into all of you?"

No one responded.

"Well?"

James spoke up. "...What happened to Glynn, sir?"

The Fat Director and the other engines looked at James. "Pardon?"

"Sir, w-with all due respect, we haven't seen Glynn in days," replied James, frightened. "What happened to him?"

"Is this why everyone has been acting out recently?"

Four "Yes, sir"s and an "Aye, sir" was the answer he got.

With a sigh, the Fat Director came forward. "I'm sorry to have not told any of you sooner but Glynn has been withdrawn from service."

The engines gasped in shock and, some, in horror, despite knowing that this was the possibility of Glynn's fate.

"So he's been scrapped?" asked Emily softly.

"I…," he paused. "I'm afraid so." But then his voice became stern. "I know that all of you miss Glynn and will continue to do so but the way everyone has been acting is unacceptable. Engines who act out lead to a financial struggle for the railway. And without a financially successful railway, we can't continue to operate this place. This includes every single one of you. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, sir" and "Aye, sir" were uttered again.

"Good. Good night, everyone"

"Good night, sir!" the engines exclaimed without the usual enthusiasm and unity. Whistles were blown at different times and the sounds rang throughout the yards before they left for Knapford Sheds at their own pace.

James was the last to leave, not wanting to be near the others for as long as he could. How could they hide things from me? he thought.

Out of everyone he'd expected to lie to him, James didn’t think that Edward would be the one to do so. Edward was nice and welcoming to him from the moment he arrived, despite the problems that had happened. The Fat Director had said that Edward was reliable and one of the most hardworking engines on the railway.

And that was the problem.

He had taken the Fat Director’s word for it and trusted Edward so quickly when right behind his tender, Edward had been hiding the Fat Director's doubts about him and told the others instead.

So much for trusting him.

Frustrated, he let his mind wander for a bit to something, anything other than what happened recently. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't as his mind landed on one engine.

Glynn.

The red coffee pot had been very welcoming when James arrived at the sheds for the first time. He checked in on him when he noticed something was wrong. Sure he hadn't known Glynn for long but it was upsetting that a new friend of his was now long gone.

Friends.

I miss my friends, he thought as he trod down the tracks and into Knapford Yards.

James dearly missed 10138, 17646, and 17647. He missed his sister, 12555. He missed them all. Hell, he even missed 10138's rather annoying twin sisters, 10141 and 10142. He wanted that last part to be a lie, but he couldn't because it was true.

But did he really want to go back? After that fight with his oldest sibling? The one who had screamed at him for defending himself just that one time? The one who had been the biggest pain in the chassis since his trials after his rebuilds?

No, he didn't. Especially since every other one of his siblings did the same damn thing to him, every single day. Their words haunted his mind every single day. Fifty-Five was the only one who stood by him, and with Fifty-Five was he consistently paired up with, much to his relief.

Fifty-Five had reassured him that there would be a day when he would deliver a goods train to Barrow-in-Furness, just like some of the other North Western engines have.

James could hardly wait for that day to come. To stroll into Barrow-in-Furness and meet with one of his friends, away from the tension happening on the Island of Sodor.

When James settled down in the center berth of the shed, he chuckled to himself. His crew, having decided earlier not to bother the engine and let him be, became concerned by the sound so George promptly asked him, "What's so funny?"

"You remember how I said I would never, ever set foot into Barrow-in-Furness because I want to?"

"I do," George replied. "Very much so. Why?"

"How ironic," he softly sneered, unintentionally giving his crew attitude. "Right now, I want to be there more than ever."

Hey. :3 Have +6k more words of Jimmy in his early days on the North Western Railway.

Thanks Jay for beta-reading it for me once again! :D

#the lovely rewritten railway au #the rewritten railway au #ttte james #ttte annie #ttte clarabel #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte emily #ttte gordon #muxse ttte: sir bertram topham hatt ii #muxse ttte oc: lms 12555 jasmine #my writing #ttte #ttte au #ttte fic #ttte oc #cerenemuxse

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cerenemuxse · 10 months ago

Text

rewrote a rewrite. well, part of it :v