Traintober 2024: Day 22 - Duck!

But Who Warned Them?

When Skarloey returned from the works, he had something Rheneas had never seen before: a cab. “A cab is the latest thing for engines,” Mr Mack the manager told him. “I hope it will cheer you up after your disappointment.” It cheered Skarloey up too much! And the silly coaches made him worse. “Such a handsome engine!” they tittered. “Six wheels and a cab – so distinguished, my dears! It’s a pleasure to see him.”

He soon grew too big for his wheels. He boasted about his cab till poor Rheneas was tired. “You should get one like me, and be up-to-date,” he said. “No thank you! You look like a snail with that house on your back. You don’t go much faster either.” “Slow, am I? Let me tell you…” “Who was late three times last week?” “Oh, it’s no use talking. You’re just an old stick-in-the-mud.” The two called each other more names, and they quarrelled so bad that they ended up back to back – not speaking. It went on for days and days. Neither Mr Mack nor Skarloey’s driver Mr Bobbie could think of a solution to their quarrel, and as the days passed, it did not get any better. Worse yet, the rains came early that year.

They were heavier than usual too, making working a nightmare. None of the crews wanted to work in Rheneas, who had no protection against the elements. They much preferred Skarloey, who at the very least gave them a roof and something of a windshield on two sides. Unfortunately, the cab had no sides to it, only a front and a back. When the wind and rain so desired, it changed direction on the little engine, spraying in through the open sides and drenching his footplate.

Still, Skarloey lorded it over Rheneas. “At least I’m still getting used,” he said one day, when Mr Bobbie mistakenly forgot to park them back to back. “In the driving rain, yes,” retorted Rheneas, gazing out into the gloom. “You must feel very important, being used as a glorified umbrella.” “Umbrella?!” squawked Skarloey. The pair continued to bicker bitterly, until Mr Bobbie returned from his lunch break. He groaned when he realised his mistake. Out of sight of the two engines, a group of navvies helping to expand the big railway had gathered to place bets on who they thought would win the argument. Mr Bobbie rolled his eyes at the group, and climbed aboard his engine.

“Come on, Skarloey,” he said. “We’ve got the afternoon copper run to do.” With that, the little engine set off up the line, complaining bitterly about the biting wind and rain.

The line up to the copper mines and slate quarry was long and winding, passing by the lake Skarloey was named after before swinging around and dividing in two. One line led to the slate quarry and the first copper mine, while the other continued north, towards the base of Culdee Fell and over a deep gorge. After the old wooden bridge had collapsed, a new iron one had been built in its place, creating what looked to most of the men and their engines as a leap of faith.

As Skarloey puffed along, Mr Bobbie gazed out the cab. There was a great deal of built-up earth and mud near the top of the cutting – it looked unsafe. “We’ll have to check it when the rain stops,” he muttered to the fireman. “That could become a landslide very easily.” The fireman agreed, and the trio continued on, their long line of empty trucks clattering behind them.

Skarloey headed out across the new Iron Bridge, and arrived at the copper mine. He had hoped for a quick turn-around so he could get back to his warm shed before nightfall, but when they reached the copper mine his hopes were dashed. The heavy rains had loosened the rocks near one of the shafts, and the entire mine had stopped production until it could be safely cleared away. Poor Skarloey was used to shunt empty trucks around, and even to pull some of the more dangerous boulders down so they could be broken up.

It was tiring work, and it took a great while. By the time they had finished and loaded up Skarloey’s return train, dusk had already been and gone. The moon was steadily rising to the east, barely illuminating their return journey through the driving rain and thick fog that had begun to settle.

The little engine made his way back down the line, shivering at the cold weather. “I hate the rain!” he complained bitterly. Mr Bobbie secretly agreed. Even with the lamps he’d affixed to Skarloey’s bufferbeam, it was nearly impossible to see through the fog.

As they crossed the new Iron Bridge, the wind stirred up again. It tugged Mr Bobbie’s hat right off, stealing it away into the ravine below. Mr Bobbie felt a chill go down his spine. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what. They reached the other side, and began to pass through a steep gorge which had a number of jagged rocks sticking out either side.

“Duck!”

Mr Bobbie and the fireman both dropped to the floor in shock, just in time. A huge chunk of sharp, piercing rock screamed through the open cab and slammed into the opposite wall of the gorge, embedding itself in the rockface.

The fireman gave out a great yell, and practically fainted on the spot. Mr Bobbie just stared, unable to even process what had just happened. “Thank you, Skarloey!” he exclaimed. “If you hadn’t warned us… we’d be gone.” “I didn’t say anything, Mr Bobbie,” Skarloey replied innocently. “What’s going on back there? I felt something fly through my cab.”

Even as Skarloey spoke, Mr Bobbie felt his blood turn to ice. If Skarloey hadn’t warned them, who had?

Mr Bobbie didn’t say anything more until they reached the sheds, thoughts whirling in his mind. Someone had saved their lives, but he just didn’t know who. He did know one thing though: he was never driving an engine past dusk again.

Next time, there mightn’t be someone to save him.

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Traintober 2024: Day 21 - End of the Line

There's Something off About Proteus...

(Please read 'The Bridge' from last year's Traintober first to get the best experience, and then read 'Middle of Nowhere' afterwards. This will be a running theme for a few of these.)

The Skarloey Railway was prospering. The wartime traffic had bolstered the little railway immensely, as had the discovery of a vein filled with copper and iron ore to the north of the lake, on the other side of the now Old Iron Bridge. The managers of the line were quick to jump on the opportunity and bought a new engine to help with the work, freeing Skarloey and Rheneas up to do their own work with the main line and the slate quarry. The engine wasn’t given a name right up, but it didn’t take long for the men to start calling the engine Proteus, due to just how much water he drank and how well he herded the trucks into line – like seals, a worker had once remarked, though neither little engine understood the reference.

Skarloey and Rheneas thought Proteus was an odd sort. He did his work with no fuss whatsoever, making his way up high into the hills and taking the empty trucks right the way to the end of the line to be loaded before bringing loaded ones back. But he also didn’t… speak. He was completely silent – mute, the workmen claimed. He just gazed about with wide, dark eyes.

Something felt off about that too, and for all that both Skarloey and Rheneas tried to think of a reason whey they were so uneasy about their new shedmate, nothing came to mind. Proteus just… was. He came and he went, and he did his work. He said nothing, but his eyes took in everything, almost as if the little engine was cataloguing everything and tucking it away deep in the back of his smokebox.

The mining company extended the line deeper into the hills, searching for even more copper and slate and stone to exploit. Rheneas and Skarloey watched on, feeling a deep wrongness about it all but not quite sure why.

Stories began to trickle through. Miners were a superstitious bunch after all, and the old legends had a way of spreading rapidly through their neighbourhoods. One that stuck out to the engines was the tale of a mythical, almost perfectly spherical boulder which stood at the very heart of Sodor, and any who laid eyes on it was cursed. Rheneas had been the one to hear it, told it by a withered drunkard with almost unnaturally long white hair who had swung his hands around as he spoke as though he was trying to summon the spirits. He thought it was a passenger, and retold the tale to Skarloey as a joke in the sheds.

“And so the boulder stands over the valley, its ghoulish eyes constantly searching for those who trespass on ‘its’ territory – for the moment they do, it will curse them with a most gruesome fate!” Rheneas recounted, adding in sound effects to the delight of his brother. “Was that it?” snorted Skarloey. Rheneas was about to reply, when something stopped him. A half-buried memory, pushed down over decades of repression stirred to the front. “No…” Rheneas admitted. “The man said that he could only tell the story in full to someone who had witnessed the boulder’s powers for themselves.” Skarloey raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“So either you weren’t told the whole thing, or you missed something out while telling me and you saw this mystical, perfectly spherical boulder.” Rheneas went to retort, but thought better of it. “Remember when you had your cab fitted? Back when the Old Iron Bridge was made of wood?” Skarloey thought back, then hummed. “I think – it collapsed, didn’t it? And you had to be carted right the way around the valley behind a traction engine so you could get back here.” “Yes! I almost crossed the bridge that night… but there was something else on it. I saw something.” “And what would that be?” quizzed Skarloey. “I saw a lantern, out on the bridge. And I heard hooves – but there were no horses out that night… Or maybe there had, but the bridge still collapsed and a boulder fell into the ravine and had one of my coaches not derailed we would have gone with it.” Skarloey stared at Rheneas, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, you are a hoot! Ghost horses!” Rheneas scowled furiously, and let off steam. As the steam cleared, it revealed Proteus, backing into the shed after a long day at the mines. The little engine stopped not too far from them, and their crew hopped down, looking annoyed.

“There was a gas leak in one of the mines, and now it’s closed for a week!” the driver complained. “There are a few mines that use canaries,” Skarloey piped up. The driver and fireman shared a look, then turned to their engine. “A canary, huh? Well, a yellow engine ain’t that different.” Proteus just stared at the pair impassively, almost as if he didn’t care. Rheneas wondered why the little engine didn’t seem bothered by his crew’s almost compulsive decision, though he figured it may have been that he was used to their impulsivity.

Proteus did seem a little peeved when his crew actually followed through on their decision, painting poor Proteus a bright, eye-sore yellow and parading him about the yards. At the very least, it made spotting him in the dark easier.

To add to the odd modifications, another incident at the mines a week after his repaint – this time due to a candle going out and a miner being crushed under a wagon – led to Proteus’ superstitious crew bolting a large, ungainly American lantern to the top of his smokebox.

Skarloey and Rheneas both thought the lantern was unsightly, but withheld their comments so as not to embarrass the poor engine, especially as he had no way of speaking up for himself.

A suitable spot for a new copper mine was chosen, and Skarloey went up to help Proteus out so the little yellow engine could build the line. Each day, Proteus returned later and later, his lantern being almost constantly lit.

Then, one evening Proteus returned at nearly midnight, his crew almost silently finishing up their duties, but still loud enough to rouse both Skarloey and Rheneas.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” hissed the driver. “An almost completely round boulder!” The two engines were wide awake in an instant. They looked over – but neither could see Proteus’ face from where they were parked.

Still, both engines noticed a marked change. Proteus became more withdrawn, less inquisitive and more… blank. There was nothing behind those eyes now, as if Proteus wasn’t all there. Skarloey believed Rheneas now – but try as they might, neither engine could tell anyone else. They tried – but every time they opened their mouth, an invisible force held them back. It was as if they had been gagged, forced to keep their silence and watch as Proteus became more and more unrecognisable each day over the next month.

The rains came stronger than usual that year, and they weakened the ground up around the mines. All three engines had to go up to help repair – and that’s when Rheneas and Skarloey saw it.

The boulder was real. It stood right at the end of the line, on a cliff overlooking the ravine the railway ran through. Skarloey’s driver began muttering something under his breath, his hands clasped together.

“I’m not going up there again,” he hissed that night. Skarloey and Rheneas both agreed. Skarloey’s driver considered for a long moment, then turned back to them. “And neither of you should either. If you do, it will make a beeline for you.”

Both engines resisted the urge to demand to know what it was. Something deep in their frames told them knowing would be worse than blissful ignorance.

Proteus continued heading up to the end of the line every day, and not returning until almost midnight.

The rains finally cleared, but their departure signalled the rise of the mist and fog. It swirled around everything, making it almost impossible to see. The only thing bright enough to cut through the fog with ease was Proteus, painted in his bright livery and with his giant, powerful lantern.

Skarloey and Rheneas were thankful for the fog – it meant that traffic was slow, and they weren’t needed up near the mines. But Proteus still went dutifully up to the end of the line, even as work ground almost to a halt. Even as his eyes began to very slowly shift colours, lightening up around the edges and morphing from the coal-black eyes the pair had known for the few months the little engine had worked with them to something... different. A hazel, perhaps? But it was too vibrant for it, and too foggy to really tell. 

Then, something changed.

It had been a cold, wet and miserably foggy day. The fog was so thick that it was almost entirely impossible to see beyond the edge of Rheneas’ buffers, but he still agreed to pull the afternoon passenger train. His journey up was without incident, and the little red engine stopped at the top station to run around his train. As he puffed by the yard, he thought he could just make out the silhouette of one of the other engines – but it was too thick to tell.

“Goodbye,” whispered a voice. Rheneas looked over to the platform, but it was devoid of people. He looked back, and saw what looked to be Proteus’ lantern retreating into the distance. Rheneas felt a chill run through his boiler. Beneath his lantern, Proteus' eyes were almost blood red. 

“Let’s go back. Fast.” Rheneas’ driver obliged, happy to be out of the wet and cold. As they headed for the sheds, night began to fall. A full moon shone overhead, it’s brilliance almost entirely disfigured by a thick, impenetrable fog. Rheneas battled through it to reach home, and was glad to spot his brother in the sheds.

“Oh good, you’re here!” panted Rheneas. “Something is wrong – I was up at the top station, and I think I heard a ghost!” “A ghost?” “There was a voice, it said ‘goodbye’ but there was no one there except…” Rheneas cut off, his eyes blowing wide. “Except Proteus.” There was a muffled boom in the distance, and then silence.

During the night, Proteus went missing. He’d been somewhere up near the end of the line, and then gone. A farmer later claimed he saw the poor engine fall from the Old Iron Bridge, his lantern dark and his face featureless. Worse yet, the gas leak deep in one of the mines hadn’t been properly clogged – a miner had tried to light a cigarette, and the entire mine had gone up in a fireball.

The damage was intense and severe. The mining company ran dry of money, and had to sell the railway. Mr Handel Brown – the brother of Skarloey’s driver – bought the line, and decided to close the route up to the mines. “It’s not safe,” he said darkly. They placed dynamite on the Old Iron Bridge, and detonated it.

…

They destroyed the Old Iron Bridge, so why was it intact now?

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Traintober 2024: Day 6 - Harmony

Rheneas and the Night Mail:

Rheneas yawned, lulled by the cool evening air. The sun had only just set, leaving only a few bright stars behind as the world slowed for the night. He smiled lazily back at his train, watching with interest as the porters buzzed about, dropping mailbags into his vans. A few passengers boarded the single coach added to Rheneas’ mail run, hoping to make it home to their mountain villages for the night. Murdoch clanked by on the standard gauge lines with a long, slow goods train bound for Tidmouth; the trucks banged together, steel wheels hissing against steel rails. The steady beat of Murdoch’s cylinders slowly retreated into the rapidly approaching gloom, a few more stars making their entrance to the infinite cinema that was the night sky.

The guard waved his green lantern, and Rheneas whistled cheerfully, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes as his driver opened his regulator. He dug his wheels into the rails and heaved the mail train out of the station. He puffed gently by the sheds, watching with interest as Sir Handel and Duncan argued softly about some trivial thing, keeping quiet so as not to wake Duke – the old engine always pulled the first train in the morning, and needed his sleep. Skarloey winked at Rheneas as he passed by, before interrupting the argument with a comment that left both Sir Handel and Duncan speechless. Peter Sam barely kept himself from cackling with laughter; Ivo Hugh innocently asked Rusty for clarification which Rusty tried to wheedle out of giving. Fred just dozed on.

Duke shot a wink at Rheneas too, grinning knowingly. Rheneas wondered what ol’ Granpuff would do this time to straighten out his youngsters, and hoped that Skarloey would fill him in later.

With the sheds behind them, Rheneas’ driver eased open the regulator and accelerated out into the open countryside. This part of the island was made up of endless moors and distant rolling hills, the great mountains rising on the horizon. Cows snored in their fields, undisturbed by the single train rushing by. Rheneas’ headlamps rocked gently, illuminating the world ahead. A few stray sheep grazed lazily behind their fences on the lineside, only to be spooked by the beat of Rheneas’ cylinders and hurry on back to their barns. A few lonely trees broke up the monotony, leaving long shadows that tattooed themselves onto the moors. Rheneas took a deep breath, and let all the stress of the day fade away as he exhaled. The stars twinkled high above, the ballast vanished under his buffers, and Rheneas was at peace.

Rheneas sped through the first station, continuing on towards the Skarloey lake. There was always few if any letters heading between towns on the line, and many heading out beyond Crovan’s Gate or in from distant towns and cities; why stop more than once at each station? A sack or two filled with letters bound for other stations was hooked by one of the post staff with a shunter’s pole while Rheneas slowed down, the postman then quietly sorting the letters in his van.

Rheneas smiled softly as he got closer and closer to the lake loop. This part of the line was beautiful; it was one of those few spots that always caught Rheneas with just how beautiful it was. The line itself split right as the lake came into view, the trees parting for a moment to give the engines a glimpse of the lake twinkling dreamily in the moonlight. It looked like something out of a fairytale, a hidden gem glistening in the night, reflecting the stars like a great, crystal clear mirror with not even the hint of a wave breaking the illusion. Rheneas always felt as though just seeing the lake was enough to balance something deep inside him – his driver called it ‘finding harmony in nature’, but Rheneas preferred to just think of it as tranquil.

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking,” murmured Rheneas to himself as the train finally began slowing for its first stop. “Did you say something?” asked Rheneas’ driver, poking his head out of the cab. Rheneas smirked to himself, his eyes gazing out over the lake, spotting a single sailboat bobbing by the pier, moored up for the night. “No, driver,” hummed Rheneas. “I’m just happy.”

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I would say yes, were there not a few technical difficulties with this set up - ones that have much more to do with the loading gauge of the SKR than the actual bogie wheel idea.

Obstacle one:

This is just outside the Thin Controller's house - this bridge is quite literally at the exit to Crovan's Gate yards! Neil would not fit under that - I mean, potentially he could if you chopped off his funnel - but that's a bit cruel to the poor engine.

Still, even if you made it past obstacle one - there's obstacle two:

This is at Cros-ny-Cuirn: the first station on the line. And it's another low bridge - one that's potentially (though it may be the angle) got an even narrower clearance than the first bridge! Were Neil to try and get through this spot, his funnel and possibly any other fittings atop his boxy boiler would have to be removed.

Surely - surely - after all this, they have to be in the clear, right? Nope. Cause here comes the real deal breaker - obstacle three:

It's Rheneas Tunnel. Rheneas Tunnel is the real dealbreaker behind why Neil (or any other NWR engine) could never traverse the SKR. This tunnel is tiny! Duncan caused the roof to partially collapse - and he's a narrow gauge engine!

And before someone mentions the rock and roll: Peter Sam lost his funnel to an icicle in this tunnel cause it's so narrow that an icicle can dangle low enough to do that kind of damage!

To be even more clear: the TV series does not do justice to just how tiny and narrow this tunnel is - look at it! It's a miracle the SKR engines fit; Neil has no chance.

Sorry to be a bit of a Debbie Downer, but Neil just couldn't traverse the SKR: he's too tall and too wide. Though I may be relatively open to the zanier ideas of the Thomas fandom, I am at heart a bit of a purist. I grew up on the books more than the TV series, and it very much instilled in me a similar outlook to the Reverend himself.

Then again, the Reverend would tell me I've lost my mind for entertaining the idea of engines being in relationships so...

Were it the CGI Skarloey Railway, they'd be fine - but both classic and book series would be a no.

(Then again, nothing after Season 7 actually exists...)

Thank you for the ask!

Your memory is correct! And also really good! This conversation was months ago!

But here goes nothing - how I ended up shipping Rheneas and Duke:

It all begins with a certain @jobey-wan-kenobi and shipping Skarloey and Neil. These two are very important for Dukeas (Rhenuke?) - so let's cover them first.

These two are terrible at flirting. Like, legitimately bad. Neil gets a repaint when he's bought by the Crovan's Gate Mining Company (into SKR red!!) and Skarloey attempts to flirt and be suave to capture Neil's heart. Here's how he does:

"I like seeing you in my colour--" So far so good - but the engines don't really have good metaphors for clothes so it sort of falls apart: "--it would look better on... uh... oh..." Human pickup lines don't really work for engines, do they? Neil is so confused, and Skarloey is dying of embarrassment (the fireman said that it would totally work!)

Rheneas laughs himself sick.

Skarloey - after grumbling about Rheneas laughing at him - swallows his pride and asks his brother for help. (Side note - this is where our conversation started. We were talking about how the SKR is more interesting for family-values in the RWS.)

Rheneas has never had a crush before, and so his best idea is: "Why not ask him to double head a train with you?" Now, those of you who've instantly spotted the problem with narrow gauge Skarloey and standard gauge Neil double heading a train are doing better than these two hopeless idiots.

But Skarloey is not to be deterred! So he builds 'the truck' to pull trains on the standard gauge railway! Ah... but there's not enough traffic for double heading, so none of the managers will allow it.

It's not like Neil is any better though - this is the same boxy engine who saw Skarloey and went "he's so cute, but I'm too ugly for him..." at which point his crew face-palmed. So his crew convinced Neil to invite Skarloey to hang out at the works while he's being repainted into NWR colours (circa 1915). So Skarloey's there when he's sanded down and repainted.

Skarloey gets a nosebleed and passes out.

And Neil thinks that Skarloey just fell asleep! Even as the mechanics at Crovan's Gate are gathering around him to study him because no engine has ever had a nosebleed before, oh my goodness look at our discovery!

These two are disasters.

Peter Sam is no help either. Peter Sam is about as innocent as a three-year-old (Duke was not going to let no dock workers sully His Puffling, thank you very much) so his best advice is to: "Sing to him!" "What song?" "Uh..." Peter Sam doesn't do proper songs, he makes up ditties! What do you mean, wooing the boxy engine involves actually knowing music?

Skarloey just skips over asking Sir Handel for advice. Which is probably for the best, considering Sir Handel's attempt at flirting was to basically stun Gordon by talking his ear off and insulting his own coaches.

Yeah... none of these engines are very good at this.

But yeah, it probably takes until Rusty and Duncan figure themselves out for Skarloey to get some good advice. Cause of all the engines on the SKR, these two are the first to get into an actual relationship (with each other, but it's not Duncan's first, let's be honest). So, here's this centennarian-and-then-some engine that is Skarloey needing his romance to be chaperoned by these two youngsters... AND IT WORKS!

Finally he has the wingengines he needs: a foul-mouthed factory worker and something called a 'diesel'.

And Rheneas is still laughing in the background.

But it works! Skarloey buys some flowers with his driver's money and asks Neil out - and Neil says yes! (Let's all just headcanon that he was the Crovan's Gate Works engine at this point, okay? Okay.) Rheneas's first words upon hearing this are lost to time, but were either "Oh thank God" or "FINALLY!"

He is very lucky that he is at the works and hears about it there, or else he'd have gotten into a massive argument. But at the same time, he's rather sad, cause he's been using this romantic trainwreck as his entertainment for the last 100 odd years, throwing out slightly bogus suggestions to stir up the drama.

These two are going steady enough in 1965 for Skarloey to tease Neil by calling him "ugly but kind" in front of the Reverend - who accidentally takes it to heart.

We are all very lucky that said Anglican Reverend was out of earshot when Neil shot back a quip about nosebleeds.

But this is Rheneas' life up until 1970 - it's spent doing his job and laughing at his brother's absolutely hilarious and terrible love life. But romance? No, it's not in his cards...

And then Duke arrives.

And Rheneas goes “oh no, he’s hot.”

Rheneas immediately goes to his brother - because they're brothers, and they're supposed to help one another - completely forgetting the past 100 years.

Skarloey bursts into laughter. And then tells Neil, who also laughs. Rheneas is humbled with his own crush on Duke - much to his consternation.

But it’s worse cause Rheneas has to deal with two very overprotective children. See, Sir Handel and Peter Sam don't want to share their Granpuff. Cause they see Rheneas as a friend, not a weird step-grandpa, so stop butting in on our family. These boys have Granpuff-related trauma, and they are not handing over their Granpuff to just any old puffball. Duke for his part thinks Rheneas is cute - but his pufflings just keep calling him "a bad influence" - which is hilariously ironic considering Sir Handel.

Of course, being Peter Sam and Sir Handel, they also do their 'sunshine and thunder thing': "I think it's nice!" "You WOULD." Which naturally evolves into good-cop-bad-cop as Peter Sam is swayed by Sir Handel (and a sniggering Skarloey, but Skarloey's always had the best of intentions, right?)

Rheneas takes his own advice and asks to double head a train (cause at least he's the same gauge!) and Sir Handel slots himself in. Duke thinks it's sweet that Sir Handel is trying to spend more time with him. Rheneas is pulling his metaphorical hair out (oh, he knows - but he's also messing with Rheneas. He also talks to Skarloey).

Can you imagine how ridiculous it would be for everyone? Rheneas is just being interrogated in the background while Duke does a deadpan to some documentary crew like he’s in the Office: “This has been going on for 25 years. I have been dating Rheneas for 20 of those years.”

He has conveniently forgotten to mention this fact to Sir Handel and Peter Sam...

And that should have been that.

Right?

No. Cause then we talked about humanisations - and the story picked back up, only now we have to jump back to the year Duke got together with Rheneas. Now, for some reason or another (I blame the boulder), the entire SKR crew (Neil included) are suddenly turned human. After a few days of figuring out how being human works (cause we take most of three decades before we settle into 'humaning' - these engines are gonna need some help), they begin to act as normally as a bunch of engines-turned-humans can. There was one occasion where Peter Sam bear-walked across the yard because he couldn't figure out how walking worked, and humans have four legs! "Those are hands." "Good enough for walking!"

See, the engines pop into being human with bodies and clothes (this is important) - and for the most part, it's pretty stock standard. Rusty has overalls, Duncan has a few piercings, Sir Handel gets wheelie shoes (for his steamroller wheels!) and Duke has a massive overcoat that makes him look - for lack of a better term - rather chubby.

And he does nothing to dissuade the other engines from this line of thinking. On the surface, it makes sense after all! Duke has his large saddle tank, which translated over.

So it comes as a great surprise to everyone when Duke takes off his overcoat after the engine Duncan (who was pulling them in one of the passenger coaches) derails. Duke is not fat - no, he's been hiding tools in his overcoat... like a crowbar. In fact, Duke randomly takes off his shirt too so he can use said crowbar to lever Duncan back onto the rails all by himself (the shirt was... uh... too constricting?).

Rheneas gets a nosebleed - only none of the engines know how human nosebleeds work and panic. This of course tips Duke off that yes, Rheneas does have a thing for him.

So, Duke basically tortures Rheneas for weeks by volunteering to join the track-workers gang, and wearing a singlet and he has arms, why does he have arm muscles he is a steam engine! (I told someone about this, and they said - and I quote: "It's cause they're always pumping iron!")

Duke also keeps Werther's Originals in his overcoat to distribute to both his Pufflings and the local schoolchildren. Rheneas' heart cannot handle the adorableness.

This of course led to Rheneas confessing to Duke in the rain after the stationmaster's cat got lost. Rheneas had thought Duke would think he was cool if he found said cat first and rushed off... and fell into a ditch and sprained his ankle cause he's a human now, and people don't walk normal, why don't they have wheels - (oh wait, that's what trains are for). Rheneas had saved the cat, and then Duke helped him, asked why Rheneas ran off and didn't stick with the search party - and so Rheneas confessed in the moment. Very cliche romantic, but so am I a bit.

So that's how Duke and Rheneas ended up as a couple. A bit of magic, a whole lot of Duke's family torturing Rheneas and a missing cat.

Traintober 2023: Day 31 - Lights Out

Don't Let the Lights Go Out at Crovan's Gate:

The day had ended, and all the engines of the Skarloey Railway were returning to their sheds to rest. Duke had broken down earlier that afternoon, his safety valve popping under all the strain he’d been putting on himself.

“You need to be more careful,” warned Skarloey. Duke raised an eyebrow. “I may have overdone it this time,” Duke admitted with a grumble. “But why are you telling me to be more careful? I saw the number of trucks you were taking.” Skarloey winced – he had taken Duke’s trucks as well as his own, straining his pistons in the process.

“Because… it was only one time,” Skarloey eventually replied. “And we have to be very careful with our health, because if we can’t be mended here in our little workshop… we go over to Crovan’s Gate.”

“I beg your pardon? I only recently came from Crovan’s Gate.” “And it’s a lucky thing you did too,” Skarloey replied ominously. Duke frowned. “You’re not telling me something, Skarloey. We both know that I will find out eventually, so you might as well be honest.”

Skarloey sighed.

“Yes, I’m not telling you something – and for good reason! Crovan’s Gate Works is haunted.” Duke went silent.

The air hung thick around them, the smell of coal, grease and steam hanging inside the poorly ventilated shed.

“Ah,” Duke said at last. Skarloey stared at him in disbelief! “You… think I’m telling the truth?” “I know it,” snorted Duke. “I was around when the Old Iron Bridge was closed; everyone was talking about it up at Peel Godred. This island hides a lot of secrets.” Skarloey chuckled humourlessly at that.

“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “And there’s something that lurks in Crovan’s Gate Works… no… someone.”

The lights outside the shed flickered, and Skarloey frowned. “Those blasted electric wires! Someone needs to fix them. Preferably now – especially with the time of year.” “Why’s that?” asked Duke. Skarloey sighed. “The ghost lurking around Crovan’s Gate is only able to interact with our world if all the lights go out.”

Duke made a noise of exclamation so suddenly it spooked Duncan out of his snoring! “Whaddya… want…” groaned Duncan drowsily before falling back to sleep.

“That explains the floodlight they kept shining in my face,” grumbled Duke. Skarloey went to reply, when the lights outside flickered again, then went dark. Skarloey went pale.

Outside, the wind began to pick up. The lights inside the shed wavered, but stayed on at a low, orange glow, the old oil lamp working as hard as it could to illuminate the darkness.

“Oh dear…” murmured Skarloey. Something outside moved. Across the mainline, Duke swore he could see two blood red eyes open, shifting to glare furiously at them. Sparks shot up into the night from above the eyes.

“Skarloey… what is that?” “An old Wellsworth & Suddery engine,” Skarloey replied. And he told Duke everything.

“In 1933, an old engine was sent to Crovan’s Gate Works to be overhauled to work on the Brendam Branch. He went into the workshops, and that was the last anyone saw of him. That night, a careless workman knocked over an oil lamp. The flames spread all around the wooden walls of the workshop, burning brightly as they reached up for the roof. The old engine awoke, and cried for help – begged, pleading, screamed for someone to come. But no one did. No one could. Skarloey and Rheneas were forced to watch in horror as the engine was burnt until he turned to a smoking hulk. Now, he haunts the yards at night, searching for the workman who sealed his fate.” As if to punctuate that point, the shadow of an engine raced by the shed.

“We’re safe in here, because of our light,” Skarloey said ominously. “But many a workman, coach or truck have vanished when the lights go out at Crovan’s Gate. Don’t get caught over there, Duke. Especially when the lights go out.”

The lights flickered back on, and for a split second, Duke swore he could see the horrific sight of a half-melted engine, face peeling and blistered with eyes blazing full of hatred.

Duke was more careful with himself after that, wary of the spectre that haunted Crovan’s Gate Works when the lights went out.

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Traintober 2023: Day 30 - Middle of Nowhere

They Should Have Left This Part of the Island Alone:

The railway line to the new quarry was making the older engines nervous. “I don’t like it,” muttered Duke as he went about his work. “That part of the island is meant to be left alone.”

Skarloey and Rheneas agreed with the old engine. “They’ll find the bridge,” Rheneas hissed at Skarloey. “We closed that line for a reason.” “I know, Rheneas,” Skarloey replied gravely. “But what can we do? If there’s profit to be made, those executives won’t listen to reason.” “What’s up there isn’t reasonable,” Rheneas retorted.

All three were on edge – and it only got worse when the surveyors found an old, creaky iron bridge. It spanned a wide gorge, crossing over a swamp below. Rusty went to help the gangers lay rails over the old structure – only to find that there were already rails! These rails were weather worn, bent out of shape by hot summer days and rusted by frigid winter nights.

“We’ll need to pull these rails up and relay them,” Mr Hugh said. “It’s odd,” Rusty replied. “I didn’t even know there was a bridge up here.” The little diesel began the long, tedious task of carefully removing the old rails and replacing them with fresh new ones. Somehow, the bridge itself had not suffered the same fate as the track. Instead, it stood silently over the gorge, perfectly frozen in time.

Rusty felt like the railway was intruding on something, purely by crossing over the gorge.

Still, they pressed on.

They found the trackbed of an old railway on the other side of the bridge, one which twisted and turned carefully through the mountains until it reached an abandoned quarry, sat perfectly at the base of the mountain they wished to mine.

“It’s an abandoned quarry,” Rusty told the other engines. “And it’s in the middle of nowhere! I don’t get it. Who’d even put a quarry there, let alone abandon it and leave a giant iron bridge behind!”

Skarloey and Rheneas shared a worried look, while Duke went eerily quiet.

“I thought your railway blew up that bridge,” hissed Duke the next morning, once the other engines had left for work. “We thought so too,” Skarloey replied, eyes wide. “We planted the dynamite and everything! You don’t think…” “I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Duke replied solemnly.

Much of the line was overgrown, and soon the foreman began asking for trains to run up to the construction site to take away all the trimmed branches and leaves from the trees. Rusty and Peter Sam set to work on the trains, hauling long lines of trucks up and down the extension.

“You be careful on that old line,” Duke warned Peter Sam. “That is a part of the island few venture to for good reason.” Peter Sam was confused. “Granpuff, what are you talking about? I know it’s in the middle of nowhere, but it’s nothing to be afraid of!” “Just listen to me,” Duke hissed, his eyes ablaze. Peter Sam gulped. “That part of the island is not to be trifled with! You take care, for the love of Saint Machan, Peter Sam!” Peter Sam shakily agreed to the old engine’s frightening warning.

Construction continued apace. The new quarry was further up the mountain than the abandoned one, and a line was constructed through a narrow gorge below the old quarry to reach it, circling around behind the mountain towards the site.\

That was where they found it.

It was a boulder, rounded by wind and rain buffeting it on all sides. It stood high up on a ledge, completely cut off from the rest of the world by the rough terrain. “What a sight…” gasped Rusty when the little diesel first saw it. “It’s certainly something,” agreed Duncan. “Don’t see stuff like that every day.”

The old quarry was reopened the next week. It still had veins of slate it reached, some nestled deep in the mountainside. Trucks began grumbling their way up the once-disused incline again, bringing load after load of slate and stone down the extension, across the old iron bridge and then down the valley.

“I don’t like this,” Duke remarked, watching nervously as Sir Handel shunted his trucks into place for Henry to load onto his goods train. “You don’t like most things, Granpuff,” snorted Sir Handel. Duke just scowled and steamed away to collect his next passenger train.

But Henry noticed that Duke kept gazing up the valley towards where he’d been told the quarry was, a fearful look in his eye. As the big green engine heaved his heavy goods train out of the siding, there was a sudden clunk from beneath him. “What was that?” he asked, throwing on the brakes – but it was too late. One of the slate trucks toppled right over, smashing into wooden splinters as its brakes jammed in the points. Henry stared back at his trucks in shock. Sir Handel was also stunned. Neither of them noticed Duke watching the entire spectacle with wide eyes.

“It’s already beginning to make an appearance,” hissed Duke to the other old engines that night. “Did you see what happened to Henry? That was a slate truck that derailed.” “It spilled across the entire mainline,” Skarloey said. “There was no way we couldn’t see that mess!” “So what do we do?” Rheneas asked. “A better question is what can we do?” Skarloey groaned. Neither of the other engines had an answer.

Winter set in not long after that, bringing with it fogs that curled up from the rivers and lakes along the Skarloey Railway and blanketed everything in thick, impenetrable grey. The snow followed close behind, a blizzard of white slush falling all through the night.

When the snow came, it made work difficult. Industry ground to a halt – but they still mined the slate from the lower quarry to keep the engines busy. Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke hated it when they had to go up the extension. The old iron bridge swayed and groaned under them, as though threatening to collapse at any second.

The workmen, however, didn’t notice. They were busy at the quarry, where they’d shovelled as much snow as possible into a giant bank behind the buffers. They believed the snowbank would stop runaway trucks from skidding all the way down into the ravine the line used.

One especially frosty morning, Skarloey was sent up to the quarry with some coal trucks and empty slate wagons. “Be careful,” warned Rheneas. “We may have passed that time of year, but I wouldn’t be too sure that it’s not still out there.” Skarloey agreed and was extra vigilant as he made his way up towards the quarry. The original trackbed that the railway had once used had become impassable over the years, so instead, trains ran through the ravine before circling back to enter the old quarry. Skarloey didn’t like this route.

“The old route may hold bad memories,” he murmured to himself. “But at least it was safer.” His driver didn’t hear him. They neared a large snowy overhang which dangled dangerously over the line.

“That’s got to be the snowbank the workmen have been making,” hummed Skarloey’s driver. “It doesn’t look safe,” Skarloey said. “I’d rather we check to see if it will collapse.”

The guard strode up, overhearing Skarloey’s suggestion. He gazed up too. “The old engine’s right,” he said. “The sound of Skarloey’s engine could trigger an avalanche. I’d rather we run over a detonator and check.” Skarloey and his driver agreed.

Up at the quarry, there was a problem. The overnight frost had buckled part of the winch mechanism that hauled trucks up and down the incline. The winch kept catching, slowing production down. A long line of loaded trucks was placed on one side of the incline, and a line of empty trucks on the other. As the loaded trucks started to come down the incline, the empty trucks derailed. The winch groaned.

“Break it! Snap it!” shouted the trucks. And they did.

The trucks came hurtling down the incline, thundering along, swaying violently. “The snowbank and buffers will stop them!” called a workman. But he was wrong.

Down below, Skarloey’s driver had just finished setting the detonator, and was walking back to Skarloey’s cab when they heard the rumble of a runaway train. “Back driver, quick!” shouted Skarloey. His driver sprinted to his cab, and threw open the regulator. Skarloey jolted back as the trucks plunged through the snowbank and into the ravine.

The old engine looked up in horror. “Avanlanche!” he cried. The trucks tumbled into the ravine, bringing the snowbank with them. Tonnes of snow and slate and wood and iron roared down the ravine walls, smashing into the rails where Skarloey had just stood. Shards of wood splintered off and rocketed past the old engine, missing him by inches.

“I knew it,” Skarloey whimpered. His driver was stunned. The usually unstoppable old engine had been reduced to near tears. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here. It’s angry now. We need to leave. We need to leave it all to nature.” “Are you alright, Skarloey? You’re talking jibberish.” “I am not!” snapped Skarloey. “We need to go. Now. We’re not welcome here.”

Skarloey’s driver was so stunned by his old engine’s outburst, that he complied. Skarloey hurried back down the line, not stopping for even a moment until he was safely on comfortably familiar rails.

Duke and Rheneas met him at the middle station. “Are you alright?” asked Rheneas. “You’re meant to be up at the quarry.” “There was an avalanche,” Skarloey hissed. “The trucks… they broke away from the winch… they plunged into the ravine… it’s angry.” Rheneas and Duke shared a worried look.

It took a long time to clear away the wreckage from the avalanche. The frigid temperatures had hardened much of the snow into ice, and it wasn’t until spring that they were able to safely run trains back through the ravine.

The melting snow also cause a surge in torrents that threatened to wash away the track. These were particularly bad around the new quarry construction site. The boulder stood overhead, silent as it gazed down at the construction disturbing its peace. Rusty mentioned it to the other engines. “I don’t want to go back up there,” Skarloey muttered to Rheneas and Duke. “One of you go confirm it.” “I’ll go,” said Duke. “You two were here last time – it might not target me as a newcomer.” “It targeted you when your line strayed too close,” reminded Rheneas bitterly. “I’m amazed it only took one of those Culdee Fell engines as a sacrifice.”

The news came that James had derailed near the Culdee Fell Railway after looking after the line while the electric engines were unable to work. When the red engine was shunted into the siding to await his turn in the works, he looked very shaken up indeed.

“I saw something up there,” he declared loudly to everyone who listen. “There’s something wrong up at Peel Godred!” “Shut up!” snarled Rheneas. “We know. But if you tell anyone, it will come after you.” James went silent in horror. “It’s… but Godred…” “Godred?” Duke thundered over, eyes wide in surprise. “You saw him? I must go up to that quarry at once.”

“I’ll get the story from James,” Rheneas promised. “You go take a look.” Duke raced away, swapping duties with Peter Sam to get up to the new quarry construction site.

And when he turned that final corner, his boiler ran cold. “It’s really there,” he gasped in amazement. The old engine shunted his trucks into their proper siding, muttering an ancient Sudrian prayer under his breath. His first driver had taught him the prayer long, long ago – and he’d taught Culdee.

As he turned on the triangle to head back down the line, an object fell from the ledge, smashing down on the trackside. Duke jumped. “What was that?” exclaimed Rusty, hurrying over. “It’s… it’s… a cylinder…” Duke edged closer to the rusted metal lump. It was rusted beyond all comprehension… and yet, it was too familiar for Duke’s liking. “I’ll take it with me,” he said eventually. “I’d suggest you send some men to secure the ledge.” Rusty and the foreman agreed, and Duke hurried away with the rusted cylinder.

“It’s Godred’s!” he exclaimed to Skarloey and Rheneas that night. “His cylinder block was at that site! It cannot be a coincidence.”

“It’s a warning,” a voice said. The three jumped and looked all around – but there was no one there.

The seasons changed. When summer came, the new quarry finally opened. Long trains of high-quality rock came pouring down from the mountain, filling up truck after truck at the transfer sidings. Rusty met Bear and Donald at the transfer sidings.

“Where’s all this rock coming from?” asked Bear. “The new quarry,” replied Rusty. “This mountain rock is good for many things, although it’s dangerous up there.” “How come?” asked Donald. “Because of a big boulder,” Rusty said grimly. “It stands on a cliff high above the line, and it feels like it’s watching me.”

“Dinnae be sae dunderheided!” snorted Donald. “Boulders dinnae hae een!” Rusty just sighed and rumbled away, not spotting a very concerned Skarloey in the sheds.

The new quarry soon began to leave its mark. Profit came streaming in, encouraging the quarry owners to further exploit the lands around their initial setup. This brought them ever closer to the cliff where the boulder stood.

“It’s not right,” hissed Duke. “There’s a reason it was left as the middle of nowhere.” “Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s just the base o’ Culdee Fell! Peel Godred’s on the other side!” “Peel Godred is not on Culdee Fell,” Skarloey said sternly. “And it’s not technically the base of Culdee Fell, but one of the smaller mountains that feeds into the Fell itself.” Duncan rolled his eyes and huffed away.

The weather changed again, and something strange began to happen along the old line. The trees and bushes that the workers had cut right back the year before had grown far more rapidly than anyone could anticipate, beginning to choke the line with dead leaves and debris. After some debris hid a rock that derailed Sir Handel, the Thin Controller got the workers to begin pruning along the line.

Peter Sam and Rusty often worked together, the two top-and-tailing the trains up and down the extension. One day, Rusty helped Peter Sam to a water column at the top of the ravine, and once there, honked goodbye to let Peter Sam know that the little diesel had headed up to the old quarry. Peter Sam needed this drink, but the trucks grew impatient. “Let’s break away,” they giggled. Their loads were heavy, so when they tugged at a coupling, it snapped.

The trucks rocketed back down the line, speeding through the ravine. “After them!” shouted Peter Sam. The little green engine gave chase, but it was already too late. A sign read ‘Slow! Steep bend and Ravine ahead’ – but the silly trucks never saw it. They thundered onto the old iron bridge and toppled over, crashing down into the ravine and plunging into the swamps below. Peter Sam puffed out onto the bridge and stared down at the scene of the disaster.

“This was our fault,” sighed the driver. “We didn’t secure them properly.” “But it makes no sense…” murmured Peter Sam. “Those trucks were new…”

But that excuse didn’t float well with the Thin Controller. “New or not, those trucks shouldn’t have been given the opportunity to run away. You will shunt trucks here in the yards until I can trust you again.”

Duncan was delighted with Peter Sam’s dilemma. “Fancy no securing yer trucks,” he sniggered. “They’ll come back to haunt you and yer special funnel. OoooOooo!”

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke all winced together. Rusty noticed. “Well,” the little diesel said. “The workers up on that extension say there’s a real ghost – I bet you’d be frightened of it.” “Pah! Ghosts, things that go bump in the night; rubbish! That’s just a load of nonsense they’re telling you to spook you, Rusty. But tell it anyway, I’d like a laugh.” Skarloey went to say something, but Duke hushed him. “He’ll learn one way or another,” murmured the old engine.

“Alright, I’ll tell you a story that’ll make your funnel quiver,” smirked Rusty. “A long time ago, a little engine was returning home. It was a misty moonlit night. As the little engine crossed the old iron bridge, he suddenly lost control and plunged over the side and into the swamps below. He was never found again – but the workmen say that when the moon is full they have seen the engine trying to make it home… but he never reaches the other side.”

Rheneas, Skarloey and Duke all slunk out of the sheds, faces pale.

“So what do you think of that, Duncan?” asked Rusty. “Pah! Nonsense,” replied Duncan, and he puffed back into his berth to sleep.

The gruff engine was plagued with nightmares all throughout his restless sleep, but he didn’t tell anyone. Duke, Rheneas and Skarloey kept a close eye on him – and Duncan kept a close eye on the moon. It was only two days until it was a full moon. To distract himself, Duncan began to pull pranks on Peter Sam, pretending to be a ghost to spook the poor engine.

“Never you mind, Peter Sam,” sighed his driver. “He’d be frightened if he really saw a ghost.” This gave Peter Sam an idea, which he told his crew. His crew spoke with Duncan’s, and they agreed.

“The full moon is tonight,” they said. “We’ll do it at once.”

Duncan had to take coal trucks up to the quarries and bring loaded stone and slate trucks back. Every trip involved crossing the old iron bridge. “Haunted bridge; Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s as tame as a pet rabbit!” But all the same, he kept thinking about Rusty’s story. If he’d been less in his smokebox, he might have noticed more about his surroundings.

The boulder had shifted.

On his last train of the evening, Duncan had to bring a special new piece of machinery up to the new quarry. It was called Thumper, and it was built to make collecting the rock even easier. But it took a long time to unload Thumper, and even longer to assemble the trucks they needed to take back. As dusk fell, Duncan spoke up.

“If we don’t go now, Skarloey’ll take my favourite place in the sheds,” Duncan complained. He hadn’t noticed the fact that Skarloey had stopped stealing that spot months ago, spending his time close to Duke and Rheneas instead. “We can’t go until all our trucks are filled,” his driver replied. Duncan looked nervous, his eyes darting from side to side.

It was dark by the time they set off. The moon was full, and the mists were rising up around the old iron bridge, curling around its beams like tendrils trying to drag it down into the swamps. Duncan whistled, and the sound echoed all around, bouncing off the walls of the gorge and distorting into something unnatural.

Duncan tentatively crawled onto the bridge. He made it halfway before suddenly stopping. Ahead, he saw flickering lights. To Duncan, they looked like an engine. His driver didn’t see the lights.

A rock plunged into the swamps below, startling both Duncan and his driver. “It’s the ghost!” wailed Duncan. “Take me back! Take me back! Please!” Duncan’s driver was spooked too – he opened the reverser, and Duncan hurried for the safety of the quarry sheds.

Duke came to find him the next morning. “Are you alright youngster?” he asked, eyes not on Duncan. “No,” admitted Duncan. “I saw something. It was there, on the bridge!” Duke looked grim, still gazing up at the cliff where the boulder stood. “I see. Come along then, let’s get you back to the sheds while there’s plenty of daylight.” Duncan was all too happy to have another engine with him as he crossed the old iron bridge. A large shard of rock stuck out at a jagged angle, not twenty feet from the bridge.

“It looks like it came away from the cliff last night,” Duke’s driver said. “Must’ve caused a right ruckus!” “It did,” laughed Duncan’s driver. “Spooked me!” “But I saw something,” murmured Duncan. Duke didn’t reply – not until they were in the privacy of the sheds.

“So you saw a ghost then,” Duke said. It wasn’t a question. “I did,” Duncan replied. Skarloey, in the next berth over, looked over. “So, it’s really back,” he muttered. “Indeed,” Duke sighed. “I looked this morning – that boulder has definitely moved overnight.” Duncan gulped. “What? The boulder? Is it a ghost too?”

Neither Duke nor Skarloey answered for a long moment.

“No one’s quite sure,” Skarloey eventually said. “But whatever it is, it’s been around since long before the railway.” “But the engine!” “Wasn’t the first to fall off the old iron bridge,” Rheneas announced grimly, steaming in. “There was also a horse and its handler. But that engine’s demise is what closed the bridge originally. We put dynamite on that bridge… and we thought we’d blown it up!”

“So what is it?” demanded Duncan. “No one’s quite sure,” repeated Skarloey. “It was written about by King Godred himself, not to mention Saint Machan and the Ancient Sudrians. It stands at the top of the Keeill-y-Deighan valley, opposing the Standing Stones.” “The ancient Sudrians stayed well away from that region for a reason,” added Duke gravely. “It’s in the middle of nowhere – and we’re disturbing it with this new quarry.”

Duncan felt ill.

Something was up at the new quarry, and he’d just delivered a piece of machinery to increase production.

Rusty also felt like something wasn’t right with the boulder. It seemed as though it had shifted up on the cliff from one end of the quarry to the other. But that was impossible.

Instead, Rusty focused on the new piece of equipment. Thumper was very useful. He worked extremely hard, pounding away at the cliff face and digging up tonnes of rock for the little engines to take away. Sir Handel, Peter Sam and Rusty were kept hard at work – but no one bothered to check on the boulder.

Loose gravel fell to the lineside.

It rained the next day, and the workmen were unable to work. Rusty still went up to the new quarry, to check for any signs of damage. Rusty gazed up, and shivered. Above stood Boulder.

Suddenly, a large slab of rock smashed down onto the rails. Rusty was shocked. The driver was concerned too. “We’d best leave until the weather’s better,” he said. “The rain’s loosened some of the rock.” “I think it’s Boulder,” murmured Rusty. “I think it wants us to go away.” As Rusty left, the little diesel didn’t notice a dark face cross the Boulder, before vanishing into the rain.

The quarry grew even busier once the rain cleared. Even more machines came to help – and that’s when Rusty looked up.

“Boulder’s moving,” Rusty gasped. “Don’t be daft!” snorted Rusty’s driver. “It can’t!”

But it did. It fell from it’s high perch, smashing down into the quarry below. It bulldozed several buildings instantly, then began to roll downhill.

“It’s rolling along our line!” exclaimed Rusty. “Quick!” The little diesel dashed backwards, honking their horn and shouting in terror. “Go! Go! Run!”

The boulder picked up speed, growing ever faster. Rusty swore that there was a face on the boulder – the little diesel went even faster, tears springing to their eyes.

“I don’t want to be squashed!” Rusty wailed. The little diesel rushed down the extension, wheels screaming in protest as Rusty rounded each bend as fast as their driver would dare. The boulder began to gain on the poor little diesel, but still Rusty kept going.

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke sat on the other side of the old iron bridge. They were just about to cross when they heard the thunderous roar of the boulder falling from its perch.

“No…” gasped Skarloey. “Rusty!” exclaimed Rheneas in horror. The little engine went to move forwards, only to be stopped by Duke. “We can’t go over,” shouted Duke. “It all downhill from that quarry – the boulder will come straight for us!”

Rusty was driving flat out, racing through the ravine. The boulder was slowed by the narrow walls, but it wasn’t stopping. Still, Rusty used these precious moment to their advantage, drawing ahead and refusing to slow in the slightest, even as their engine began to cough and splutter.

“Help!” shouted Rusty. They sped round the next bend, and the little diesel’s driver spotted the old iron bridge.

“If we can cross that, we’ll be safe!” The little diesel managed to find just a little more speed. Rusty clattered onto the bridge, going as fast as their wheels could carry them. The boulder was close behind.

Rusty sped off the bridge; the boulder roared onto the bridge. The old iron bridge groaned under the weight, rivets snapping off in all directions before the superstructure gave way and the entire thing, boulder included, went smashing down into the gorge.

The last thing the engines saw was a terrifying, scowling face carved into the side of the boulder.

And then, silence.

The engines left the gorge as quickly as they could. As they did, an explosion rocked the mountainside! “The quarry!” exclaimed Rusty, horrified. “The boulder must’ve…” The little diesel trailed off, unable to finish that horrific thought.

When the Thin Controller surveyed the damage, he decided to close the extension. Down in the gorge, the boulder was half submerged. “We should have left this part of the island… alone.”

They ripped up the rails the very next day, and left the trackbed to be engulfed by nature. Some places are left well enough alone because they must be – but Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke know that one day, people will return to the dark side of Culdee Fell, in search of the wealth it hides. And when that day comes, they too will know of it.

And it doesn’t accept trespassers.

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James and Godred

Rheneas and the Old Bridge

Traintober 2023: Day 15 - Maintenance

Duke's Hidden Fear:

It all began when Rusty felt a cough in their engine one cold morning, not long after Duke returned to service. The old engine sidled up alongside, looking concerned. “Are you alright, youngster?” he asked. “It’s just a cough,” Rusty said, “but it might make me late with the maintenance train – we wanted to get a start on the trackwork before the frost grew too bad.” “Don’t worry about it,” Duke said. “I’ll take the workmen up on the back of my mineral train.” “That would be incredible!” exclaimed Rusty. “Thank you so much!”

Duke shunted the works train onto the back of his empty mineral trucks and hauled the lot away, bringing them up the line to their first works siding before completing his run. He brought them up to their next location while his trucks were being loaded, then brought the loaded trucks down, picking up the maintenance crew as he ran up the line with his first passenger train and bringing them to Glennock.

Rusty stayed in the shed that day and the little diesel’s driver checked their engine over. A bolt had rattled loose, and once it was tightened Rusty was ready to run again the next day.

The engines chalked Duke’s helpfulness up to just that: helpfulness; and continued on their usual schedules.

Then, it happened again. Rheneas was feeling short of steam at the end of his run, sitting at the Top Station with a full train of passengers visiting the little village by the lake for an ice-skating display. Duke sat nearby with his own coaches.

“Did you need a buffer?” offered Duke. “I can take your passengers home with mine,” he said. “We leave within ten minutes of each other, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” “I couldn’t do that,” huffed Rheneas. “I don’t want to let the passengers down.” “You wouldn’t be doing that,” Duke said. “I can look after them, but you don’t sound well. Have your pipes had a good cleaning recently?”

Rheneas had to admit it had been a while, and after a little more badgering from Duke, he relinquished his train and headed back down the line to have his pipes checked.

That afternoon, the engines were treated to the incredible sight of Duke gamely snorting down the line with almost every coach the line had, white smoke curling up into the crystal blue sky as he brought the heavy train into the Works Station. James and Bear were most impressed, as Duke brought the coaches into the platform and the passengers thanked him for bringing them safely home.

Rheneas’ pipes did need a clean – though the workmen all agreed Rheneas would have been fine for a few more days before really needing a thorough clean.

“It’s unusual,” Rheneas said to Skarloey that evening as the pair watched Duke shunt away a line of trucks. “Most engines don’t even notice their own pipes are blocked until it gets uncomfortable – but Duke could tell my pipes were getting clogged just by listening to my pistons. It doesn’t make any sense…”

Skarloey agreed, and the pair decided to keep watch over their railway’s ‘new’ engine.

Winter continued to settle in, bringing with it icy rails, frigid snow and the upsurge in traffic that was the Christmas season. All through it, Duke worked hard. On the mornings when Rusty’s engine struggled to turn over, Duke would take out the little diesel’s first train, and when any one of the other engines felt unwell, somehow the Mid Sodor’s number one was always nearby and able to take their train as well as his own.

Sir Handel was sent down to the sheds by Duke after his piston began to jangle, Skarloey got the day off to be checked over after making a comment about a cramp in his springs (which turned out to be an ice patch which had moulded to the spring overnight) and Duncan managed to pawn several of his trains off onto the old engine. The engines were all kept very well-maintained due to this meddling, and yet the cold weather kept on producing more issues – including ones Duke hid from the others.

Still, he resolutely took on every job he could, doing far more than his fair share of the work.

And when the last trains of the Christmas and New Years’ rush were completed, all tickets punched and all parcels delivered, Duke volunteered to run the few vital trains the little heritage railway offered until the snow began to melt. Normally, the engines rotated this duty – but Duke was determined.

“I just came out of the works,” he said to the Thin Controller as he backed down onto a long line of coal trucks. “I can handle the work – and it’s a good chance for you to give them important maintenance, so we’re all at our best during the summer season.”

In the face of an argument that good, the Thin Controller had to agree.

Duke worked hard all through the winter, bringing supplies up to the towns and villages in the hills and bringing the locals down to Crovan’s Gate in return. The old engine was never out of steam, always having water in his tanks and a fire beating inside him.

“Always ready,” he vowed.

Even at night, when the icy winds howled and no sane man or machine would be out, Duke would be ready in case of emergencies – such as when an older woman broke her leg and needed to be brought to a hospital at once.

The other engines began to worry about their Granpuff. He was doing triple the work of an engine a fraction of his age, with more grit and determination than either Rusty or Duncan had ever seen.

Peter Sam, Sir Handel, Rheneas and Skarloey had though. Duke was doing exactly what he’d done on the Mid Sodor Railway; what Rheneas had done on the Skarloey Railway. He was running himself into the ground to give the other engines a break, to keep the railway open and ensure there was always an engine to run it.

It was not an unusual tactic from an older engine – especially one who had seen their railway go through hard times. But never to this extent. Duke was resolute and unmovable – he did all the work.

Peter Sam spoke up one evening, when Duke returned from bringing food up to the villagers.

“You’re running yourself into the ground,” he said. “You shouldn’t already be this tired, Granpuff – you just came out of the works.” “I’m not tired,” huffed Duke. “I’m fine! I’m just looking after things so you all can get routine maintenance.” “You said the same thing on our old line,” Sir Handel said. “We always got sent to be checked over the moment we began to show signs of feeling unwell, and you took everything on your wheels.” “I did it so you could run again the next day,” Duke hissed, his façade cracking. “On our old line, they wouldn’t have paid to give either of you an overhaul if you broke down. I made sure you were in top condition so they’d never be in that position… so you wouldn’t break down and be… be sold. I did it to keep you safe—” Duke’s eyes went wide.

The old engine suddenly let off steam and escaped out of the sheds. Sir Handel and Peter Sam winced.

“Ah, so that explains it,” Sir Handel eventually said. The others looked over curiously. “What do you mean?” asked Skarloey. “When we were sold. They bought Peter Sam and I ‘cause we were in good condition – surprisingly good condition for how poor our line was by the end. Duke took on everything because he knew what was coming. He knew we were going under – he must have, he’s too wily not to. He deliberately ran himself into the ground to keep us safe…”

“And then he spent twenty years not knowing if he’d succeeded,” Skarloey realised. “He never left that mindset.”

No one was really sure how to help Duke with that. Rheneas had only managed to overcome his worries due to the letters he was sent by Skarloey and the sheer fact he’d succeeded in saving his home, and Skarloey had been present for much of the turnaround of their railway. But Duke lost his home.

Duke had lost his home in spite of everything he’d done. He lost it all, and it had taken everything he had just to get his youngsters into a position where they might survive. He neglected his own maintenance to make sure they were in the best condition when the buyers came sniffing.

But to help Duke recover from this sense of worry... that was something the engines weren't sure how to tackle. 

Back to Master Post

Who's the Best Mentor for Ivo Hugh?

Seeing as I just finished my ERS 'Ivo Hugh the Young Engine' fic, I think it's about time I ask the serious question of who exactly would be the best mentor for Ivo Hugh.

This will focus only on the Skarloey Railway engines - I am not going to consider the mainline engines because I both don't have the patience or the mental strength to try and figure out just how bad that would go. I will also only be considering Railway Series characters; I don't think Mighty Mac would even have a chance! Please note that this is all entirely my opinion, and while you are free to add your own suggestions, please do not hate me for favouring one character over another.

Skarloey:

Initially, I thought Skarloey would be an ideal candidate. He's got a wealth of experience, and he acts like the stern, elder leader of the fleet. He also knows how to handle wayward engines, as seen in 'Gallant Old Engine' when he teaches Duncan a lesson.

However, Skarloey has had no actual experience teaching a new engine. Rusty arrived before Skarloey returned, so Skarloey had no hand in their education. In fact, every engine prior to Ivo Hugh has already been taught in some capacity how to do the basics of handling trucks and coaches and listening to their driver, if not much more. Ivo Hugh very much hasn't. Furthermore, Skarloey has a temper that would severely limit his ability to mentor. His role in the series - if you look close enough - is often just scolding the others. He scolds Nancy for cleaning him, Duncan for stopping with his passengers on the viaduct, Sir Handel a number of times, the coaches for being difficult - the list goes on!

And that's before mentioning young Skarloey! Skarloey has blown smoke at his manager and insulted Rheneas and bounced his manager into a bush - and that was before the railway even opened! As a mentor, Skarloey just doesn't sit right with me. Skarloey certainly has his part to play - but he's just not quite right.

Rheneas:

So, if Skarloey isn't ideal, how about Rheneas? He's very similar to Skarloey, only not quite as stern and certainly a lot more mature from the get-go. He's persistent, as seen by his determination in Speedkiller. He quite literally is the 'Gallant Old Engine' who is very much a hero of the railway! So far, a much better fit.

Unfortunately, much like Skarloey, Rheneas has also never taught a brand-new engine before. Rheneas arrived back from his overhaul after Sir Handel, Peter Sam, Rusty and Duncan had all settled into life on the SKR - Rheneas himself just slotted into his spot. We also don't see much of Rheneas in the series at all. For an engine with a book named after him, he doesn't do an awful lot in said book. He appears in one of the four stories, and that's mostly told in flashback!

And that particular story also points to my one major concern about Rheneas: he pushes himself too far. Rheneas jams his cylinder trying to take on the work of two engines. Rheneas takes on a herculean effort to try and keep the railway running, but doesn't seem to have the ability to stop pushing himself. It is strongly implied that his breakdown in 'Gallant Old Engine' was not a one-off event. My worry is that he'll manage to teach that sort of mentality to Ivo Hugh. It's unlikely - but not impossible. Add this to the fact that he's never taught an engine before, and while he's definitely a better choice than Skarloey, he is not the best candidate to mentor Ivo Hugh.

Sir Handel:

No. Just no. Sir Handel has insulted the coaches, damaged himself, purposefully derailed himself, knocked his firebars loose, gotten into a fight with a steamroller and insulted Skarloey - just to name a few incidents!

Sir Handel hasn't shown many signs of maturing by the time Ivo Hugh was built either, seeing as that firebar story comes from the same book Ivo Hugh was introduced in. Sir Handel is probably the second worst candidate on the entire railway.

Peter Sam:

Now, Peter Sam is an interesting choice. He's by no means the same engine he was when he started on the SKR, and he may have had a hand in teaching Rusty - though that's unlikely, seeing as Rusty just sort of arrives and knows what to do - but he has also shown that he may not be the right candidate.

He's naive for one thing - Henry managed to trick Peter Sam into panicking about being late, causing Peter Sam to forget the refreshment lady; which suggests that he can also be forgetful. He's also shown to be cheeky in 'You Can't Win!' and both over-confident and stubborn in 'Peter Sam's Prickly Problem'. Now, none of this is to the detriment of Peter Sam, just as none of this is to the detriment of any of the characters - but it's also not the best base for a mentor.

I wouldn't say he's a bad choice - Peter Sam is a good candidate. He may be stubborn, but he's also persistent and determined, as well as kind and polite. But I think there are better candidates, and he has no experience with teaching other engines.

Rusty:

Rusty also shows a lot of the strengths that Peter Sam, Skarloey and Rheneas show - Rusty's intelligent, hard-working, kind and level-headed, going as far as to warn Duncan about some bad track in 'Rock 'n' Roll'. However, it's that same story that might just be Rusty's undoing.

Rusty leaves Duncan to find his own coaches - furthering Duncan's animosity towards Rusty and making him late, and then Rusty refuses to go to Duncan's aid until Skarloey scolds him. While this may be a biproduct of Rusty's young age, the fact we don't see much of the little diesel in the series either before or after this really doesn't help us get an idea of their character. It's the same issue that I have with Rheneas: we just don't know enough about them to make a judgement.

And one final thought: Rusty grumbles about Fred not doing his job in 'Speedkiller'; and Fred is the other track maintenance diesel on the railway. When Fred arrived, Rusty was most likely the engine who taught him how things worked... and didn't manage to succeed.

Duncan:

Duncan matures a lot over the series. When introduced, he's rude, loud, brash, dismissive - the list goes on. However, by the time we reach 'Pop-Special', he's changed drastically. Duncan is a very different engine in this story, going out of his way to help the scouts during the hot weather. He's grown a substantial amount!

However, I wouldn't say he's changed entirely. He is seen being abrasive and brash as late as 'Bulldog', arguing with Peter Sam over his interpretation of a 'Duke'. His change may also have been spurred on more by vaguely disguised threats than anything, seeing his reaction to Culdee's story in 'Bad Lookout':

Duncan is not the worst candidate for a mentor figure for Ivo Hugh - however he is quite low on the list, as his bad language, biting remarks and abrasive personality would not make for the most ideal learning environment.

Fred:

Look, we know nothing about Fred. He does not appear in any illustrations, have any speaking roles or even have an effect on the series. All we do know about him is that he shirks off his job as the weedkilling engine and Rusty is forced to do it. So I'd say based on this single incident, Fred is the worst candidate for a mentor for Ivo Hugh.

Duke:

And after all of them, there is only one left. Duke. Now, old Granpuff does have his faults - but he also is the only one of this entire group to have experience teaching engines. He raised Peter Sam (Stuart) and Sir Handel (Falcon) on his own - and by all accounts, while they were on the MSR they were really useful, polite, friendly and helpful. It isn't until their stint at the Aluminium Works that they gain their current personalities.

So, Duke has the experience - which suggests that he probably has a decent temperament for teaching and a wealth of knowledge to pass down, all tested on previous students. He's also surprisingly relaxed about his role. In 'You Can't Win!', Duke actively plans and takes part in a prank against Stuart as retaliation for rude comments. His ability to roll with the punches and also have fun is extremely useful in a teaching environment.

Duke also has the same determination and drive as Rheneas, handling his entire railway alone successfully for generations. Unlike Rheneas however, Duke doesn't drive himself to failure.

Duke also has the instincts. In 'Bulldog', Duke double-heads a train with Falcon - who spends the entire journey belittling and taunting the old engine. However, when Falcon derails and dangles over a cliff, Duke does not hesitate for even a moment, going into parental instinct instantly and not stopping until Falcon is safe, going so far as to bark orders at his crew and the passengers. This is an actual human reaction too, known as maternal instinct - this is an instantaneous reaction a mother will have if their child is in danger.

He acts more like Stanley is a problem than an opportunity, which could be due to Stanley's attitude or Duke's stubbornness - either way, the depiction of Stanley in 'Granpuff' is both very disturbing and very open-ended. Was Stanley that bad? Was Duke negligent? Was it actually the fault of management, and Duke is desperately trying to ensure that Stuart and Falcon don't go the same way? If it is the last one, then that's another positive for Duke as a mentor. Otherwise, not such a great sign. Duke can also be a bit... boring. He drones on about 'His Grace' so often that Stuart and Falcon get sick of it. Duke is also remarkably stubborn, being unable to deviate from his own beliefs in several cases. He also has a temper of his own, snapping back at Stuart and Falcon several times - though this was after considerably more provocation than Skarloey.

Despite these flaws, Duke does manage to balance them out far better than the others in a parental aspect. What really sets him apart is that parental instinct - it's a real game-changer, and he's one of only two engines in the entire series to be explicitly shown as having it. The other is Edward, who put himself in massive danger to save a runaway James, but even then, it's not quite the same. Edward's said to be the only other engine in the yard, and James is in nowhere near as much danger as Falcon was. Falcon is in perhaps the most danger any engine has ever been in the entire railway series in this moment:

Based on all this, I think Duke is the best choice to be the primary mentor for Ivo Hugh. There is just more instances of him being a proper mentor in the series, which makes it easier to spot how good he is at this role. Were we to see Rusty's early days, or even that Ivo Hugh book we all wanted, we'd probably have a much better idea of who is the actual best candidate. As it is, I stand by my choice of Duke, with Rheneas, Peter Sam, Rusty and Skarloey also having a large influence. After all, it takes a village to raise a child and a railway to raise an engine!

As usual, none of these images belong to me, and are the property of their respective owners.

Thank you for the ask! This is certainly a tough one, I'm fond of a lot of them - but I have to say I've always had a soft spot for Duke the Lost Engine. That book and its TV adaptation continue to be my favourites in the series.

Other engines I am very fond of are Edward, Gordon, Skarloey, James and the Caledonian twins - something that becomes all too apparent in my writing XD