> Thomas and Friends: The Retold Adventures
>  by The Blue EM2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Introduction
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Island of Sodor is surrounded by golden beaches and beautiful blue sea. It sits in the Irish Sea between England and the Isle of Man, thereby giving the Bishop of Man and Sodor the other half of his (or her) diocese, and measures 60 miles east-to-west by 42 miles north-to-south. There are towns and villages, a coal mine, country parks, mountains, and lots of trees where the birds sing.

This island is also home to lots and lots of railway lines, and many engines. This is the tale of a railway, a group of boys and girls, some engines, and the magic that brought them together. Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present...

Thomas and Friends: the Retold Adventures!


> Edward's Day Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On Sodor, there was a roundhouse near Tidmouth.  In this shed lived three engines. One of them was a small 4-4-0 that  was painted blue with red lining. He had a narrow boiler, a round-topped  firebox, and a Fowler tender. His name was Edward, and he was old. He  hadn’t run in a long time, and the other engines mocked him over this  fact endlessly. 

“They won’t choose you today!” they said. “They want big engines like us!” 

This  was, indeed, a fair point. Both of these engines were bigger than  Edward, and were both stronger than him. But this was of little  encouragement to poor Edward, who was saddened by this. All he wanted was to come out and pull trains again, but he knew that the chances of that were very slim indeed. 

Then one day, things changed forever, and everything for Edward improved. 

It  was very early in the morning, and the Sun had only just opened its  sleepy eye upon the island, showering it in its glorious rays. The  engines slowly opened their eyes, and yawned. 

“I wonder who will go out today?” one of them asked. 

“I think it will be me,” said another. 

“No, it will definitely be me!” the first snapped back, sounding cross. 

Edward just sat there sadly. Nobody will ever want to see me again, he thought, his face truly miserable. 

But  just then, a lorry pulled up just outside the shed, and a door opened  on the left-hand side. Out of this door stepped a girl. She wore a pair  of brown work boots with a pair of jeans, suitable for a hot, messy  working environment. She also wore a belt with an apple on the buckle, a  white collared shirt with green highlights on the sleeves and collar,  and a brown Stetson hat. She had a light orange complexion, with  brilliant emerald eyes and long blonde hair, done up in a ponytail. 

A voice called to her. “Don’t be back too late Applejack!” 

“Ah won’t Pa, now don’t ya  worry!” the girl replied, before the lorry set off once again. She then  began to walk over to the shed, and stopped at the side of it. 

“Erm, excuse me?” she asked. “Ah’ve been told Ah’m workin’ with an ‘Edward’ today. Ah was wonderin’ if anyone could tell me where he is?” 

“I’m Edward,” Edward told her. 

The girl looked around her. “Sorry, but Ah can’t see where ya are. Y’all wouldn’t mind tellin’ me where ya are?” 

Edward smiled. “Walk around the front of the 4-4-0 and you’ll be in the right place.” 



The girl stepped forward, around the front, and stopped as her jaw dropped open. “What in tarnation?” 

Edward laughed. “I can see you’ve never met a non-Faceless Vehicle before.” 

The girl continued to stare. “Say what now?” she asked. 

“A  sentient railway vehicle!” Edward replied. “We all have personalities  and emotions, though nobody is quite sure how, and as a result we often  operate trains on our own. We do have crews though, and I believed you  said we were meant to be working together.” He paused, before thinking  it would be a good time to break the ice somewhat. “My name is Edward.” 

The girl paused as well for a moment, before mustering up the courage to reply. “Mah name’s Annie. Annie J. Smith. But ya can call me Applejack, it’s what everyone else does.” 

“Nice to meet you Applejack,” Edward returned the compliment, and Applejack headed over to light his fire. 



She  was certainly good at it, as she had a good head of steam going in next  to no time. She reached up for the whistle chord and pulled it down, a  wonderful sound echoing across the yard. Satisfied that all was ready,  she opened the cylinder cocks and opened the regulator. Steam flowed  from Edward’s cylinders as he puffed over the turntable and onto the  mainline. 

The  other engines were very cross at being left behind, but Edward paid  them no heed. Running through the yard, he eventually found the carriage  sidings and backed onto the coaches waiting for him, a set of  dependable 50-foot bogie coaches. He rolled into them very gently, and  they were grateful. 

“Thank you, Edward,” they said. “You’re a lot less rough than those other engines on the line.” 

Applejack shook her head. “Now the coaches speak. Ah’m in fer a weird day.” 



After  a short run, they came to the first station on the line, and rolled to a  smooth and gentle stop in the platform. Applejack leaned out of the cab  and took the opportunity to hop onto the platform, standing in front of  Edward. 

“So, how’d ya end up on Sodor Eddy?” she asked warmly, a smile typical of Southern hospitality on her face. 

“Well,”  Edward replied, “I was built in 1896 by the Furness Railway, a company  just on the mainland off Sodor. I worked hard for them for many, many  years, but eventually the trains became too heavy for me and my brothers  and sisters. So, in 1915, I was sold on to the newly formed North  Western Railway, and here I have been ever since.” He paused, and looked  at her. “I must admit, I was not expecting to find a girl from the Deep  South on this island. What’s your story, Applejack?” 

Applejack  smiled. “Well, Ah was born in Oklahoma, as were my brother and sister.  However, times got hard there recently, so Ma, Pa, mahself, mah siblin’s and my granny and grandpa all moved here, to Arlesburg.” 

“Arlesborough,” Edward corrected. 

“Thanks,”  Applejack replied. “Anyways, we own the orchard there, but getting' the  apples ta market by road’s a pain. If only somebody would reopen the  old branchline that ran ta there! Then we could move the apples easily.” 

Just then, a voice shouted. “Edward, we need to go! Allocated departure time!” 

Edward looked back. “There is no guard!” he replied. “I can’t possibly depart without a guard!” 

So, they waited. And waited. And waited. “Where in tarnation is that guard?” Applejack fretted. 

Edward sighed. “At this rate we may have to leave without him.” 

Applejack gasped. “Ya wouldn’t now!” 

Just  then, a loud whistle came down the street, and there was the guard,  running with his flags in one hand, his whistle in his pocket, and some  jam sandwiches in a box held within his other hand. He jumped aboard the  guard’s coach at the back of the train, blew his whistle, and waved the  green flag. 

Applejack  jumped back onboard, and blew the whistle. Away they pulled, running  through the countryside beautifully, stopping at every station from  there to Vicarstown at the other end of the island. 

Edward had a lovely day. When Applejack backed him into the shed later that day, she stoood in front of him afterward. 

“That was a great day Eddie,” she said. “Ah look forward ta doin’ that again.” 

“You’ve got some soot on your face,” Edward pointed out. 

Applejack looked in a mirror. “Ah shoot!” she replied. “And all over mah clothes too! What will Ma and Pa think?” 

She had no time to think about that, as a loud horn honked in the yard. 

“Sorry, gotta go! See ya soon!” 

“See you soon!” Edward called. He then looked over to the other engines. 

“I may be going out tomorrow as well,” he said. “What do you all think?” 

The other two simply grumbled profusely, but Edward heard none of it, as he was fast asleep.
> Edward and Gordon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, one of the other engines was boasting. He was much larger than Edward, and had a 4-6-2 wheel  arrangement. He had long, curved frames, square buffers, a very large  boiler, a single squat chimney, a dome partway down the boiler, and a  large, spacious cab. In addition, he had a much larger tender than that  Edward was fitted with. 

“Just  you wait Edward,” he said. “When you are working in the yard, keep an  eye out for me as I rush through with the Express. Won’t that be a  splendid sight!” 

“You’ll hardly be rushing Gordon,” Edward told him. “Tidmouth is the end of the line, unless you fancy going through the bufferstops.” 

“What’s this about bufferstops?” asked Applejack, as she finished oiling round Edward. 

“Gordon was talking about going through them, that’s all,” Edward told her. Applejack burst out laughing. 

Gordon just looked cross. “Oh, the indignity.” 

Another voice then floated through the shed. A raspy voice which sounded faintly Canadian. “Hi, is this Tidmouth roundhouse?” it asked. 

Up  the centre access path a girl walked. She looked to be the same height  as Applejack, and had light blue (or cyan) skin with hair that sparkled  every colour of the rainbow. She also had purple eyes, and wore white  socks under a pair of red trainers with a lightning bolt pattern on  them. In addition, she wore a pair of blue cargo pants, and a white  T-shirt with red sleeves and collar. 

Applejack turned to her, and smiled. “Well howdy partner!” she called. “Ya work here too?” 

“Erm, yeah,” the girl replied. “Hey, I’m looking for a guy named Gordon, seen him anywhere?” 

Applejack pointed to the locomotive opposite her. “That’s Gordon.” 

The girl looked confused. “That’s a steam engine.” 

“I AM GORDON!” Gordon boomed. The girl walked around the front and gasped. 

“A talking steam engine?!” she asked, in surprise. 

Gordon looked down his nose at her. “Never seen one before?” he asked. 

The girl looked stunned. “That is so...AWESOME!” she jumped up, punching the air as she did so. “So, you’re Gordon, huh?” 

“That is indeed me,” Gordon answered, sighing. “And you are?” 

“I’m Rainbow Dash,” the girl replied. “That’s what everyone calls me. Well, my parents do at least.” 

“What’s yer real name?” Applejack asked out of interest. 

“Rayne,”  Rainbow Dash replied. She walked over to the cab steps and climbed  aboard Gordon. “So, what have we got lined up for today?” 

“Oh,” Gordon said, as he simmered, Applejack having already lit his fire. “It will be magnificent!” 

“If going through the buffers can be classed as magnificent,” Edward added. 

Gordon went incredibly red. “WHY YOU-!” he spluttered, doing his best impression of a beatboxer. 

Rainbow  Dash took this as the opportunity to go, and released Gordon’s brakes.  They came off with a hiss and a clunk, and she then sounded the whistle,  which was a long, deep, chime whistle. Then she opened the regulator,  having remembered to open the safety cocks first. 

Gordon’s  wheels spun furiously on the rails as his regulator had been opened too  far. “NOT THAT MUCH REGULATOR!” he shouted. “About 25% should do it.” 

“Sorry,  it’s my first day!” Rainbow Dash shouted. Resetting the regulator,  Gordon moved onto the turntable smoothly and with much grace. 

“Poop poop!” he shouted to Edward. “Remember to look out for me this afternoon!” 

Applejack shook her head. “He’s fulla himself, ain’t he?” 



Edward  and Applejack spent most of their day in the yard, shunting the trucks.  Edward enjoyed playing a little game with them. He would move forward  to a position just short of them, and then suddenly move forward and  give them a bang. They would roll for a short distance and then collide  with another truck, all the while screaming; “Oh! Oh! Whatever is  happening?” 

“Life is so cruel,” said another. 

Edward laughed. “This is surprisingly fun!” he said with a smile. 

“You said it Eddie!” Applejack added. 



Eventually,  there were no more trucks, and Applejack moved Edward to the water  column that faced onto the mainline, before dropping the hose into his  tender and opening the valve. It was thirsty work this, and it took a  lot of water to keep a steam engine running, especially in summer. 

Just then, a loud whistle sounded from the Tidmouth station direction, followed by a slow two-cylinder beat. 

“What could that be?” asked Applejack. 



Sure  enough, they saw what it was. Rolling toward them was Gordon. But he  wasn’t pulling a passenger train, not least the express. He was pulling a  long, slow goods train! There were vans and tankers, conflats and open wagons, and a brake van to top it all off. 

Gordon  looked cross, and huffed past. “A goods train, a goods train, A GOODS  TRAIN! The shame of it, the shame of it, oh, the shame of it.” 

“C’mon Gordon!” Rainbow Dash shouted from the cab, “put some effort in!” 

The train vanished around the curve behind the back of the shed, and Applejack and Edward laughed. 

A few minutes later, a workman arrived in a car to speak to Edward and Applejack. He had bad news. 

“Gordon has stalled on Marron’s Bank, and cannot get up the hill,” he said. “Can you help out and push?” 

“Yes sir!” Applejack replied. “C’mon Eddie, let’s go!” 



It  took them a few minutes to reach their destination, but sure enough  there was Gordon, stuck on the hill. Applejack hopped out of Edward’s  cab and walked up to the front of the train. Gordon looked very, very  cross, and was arguing profusely with Rainbow Dash. 

“C’mon Gordon!” Rainbow Dash said, exasperated. “You're not even trying! You’re just being lazy!” 

“I  told you I can’t do it!” Gordon thundered. “It’s these trucks; not only  are most of them LMS, they are silly and hold an engine back so! If  they were coaches-clean, sensible things that come quietly-then THAT  would be different!” 

Applejack stepped in to break up the confrontation. “Eddie and Ah are here ta help,” she said. 

“No good,” Gordon snapped. “That pepper pot could never get this lot up the hill.” 

“Do you have any better suggestions?” Rainbow Dash asked. 



They backed Gordon down to the bottom of the hill, and coupled Edward up. “Peep peep, I’m ready!” Edward whistled. 

“Poop poop, no good!” Gordon whistled back. 

Applejack  opened Edward’s regulator, and he began to push against the train. To  say Gordon was not putting any work in would be an understatement. 

“I can do it!” Edward called. 

“I can’t do it!” Gordon replied. 

“I can do it!” 

“I can’t do it!” 

“I WILL DO IT!” 

“I CAN’T DO IT!” 



Back  and forth this went for several minutes, as they slowly scaled the  hill. Before anybody knew what was happening, they were at the top, and  Gordon almost imemdiately forgot about Edward as he raced down the other side. 

“I’VE  DONE IT! I’VE DONE IT! I’VE DONE IT!” he whistled triumphantly, racing  out of sight. Edward flew along behind him, desperately trying to keep  up, but Gordon was soon out of sight, and raced through two stations  before Edward was run into a siding at Marron. Applejack hopped out and  took the opportunity to fill Edward’s tender up again, as the banking  run had somewhat depleted his water supply. 

“Ya did a good job,” she said to him, smiling. “Tomorra, Ah’m gonna bring a pot of blue paint from the farm, and repaint ya ta look brand new. Won’t that be nice?” 

Edward could only agree.
> The Sad Story of Henry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day an engine attached to a train, was afraid of a few drops of rain. 

It went into a tunnel, and squeaked through its funnel, and never came out again. 



The engine’s name was Henry. He was an odd-looking engine, with a parallel boiler and round-top firebox. He had a 4-6-0 wheel  arrangement, and a small tender that could barely hold the quantity of  water he needed. But he had stopped somewhere he wasn’t meant to. This  was because he was a serial worrier, and had a condition which nobody  else knew of. 

Well, one person did. That would be his driver, Fluttershy.  She hopped off his footplate and walked to the front of the train. She  had yellow skin, bright blue eyes and pink hair, with a butterfly clip  set into her hair on the left-hand side. She wore pink trainers, white  socks, a blue skirt with pockets, and a white tank top. 

“Why have you stopped Henry?” she asked, in a voice which was barely audible. 

“The rain will spoil my lovely green paint and red stripes!” he replied, audibly panicked. For it was not known to most (except Fluttershy, of course) that Henry was of a nervous disposition, and also suffered from ombrophobia. 

“Oh no,” Fluttershy  whispered. She was shy like Henry, and could easily find things to  worry about in any circumstances. “If anyone finds out, I dread to think  what they’ll do to him!” 



The guard walked up to the front of the train. “Budge up Henry!” he shouted. 

“I’m  not ruining my paint and red stripes for YOU!” he snapped, in a volume  that was shouting for him, but was only about 5 decibels above normal  speech to everybody else. 

The  guard blew his whistle until he had no more breath in his lungs, and  waved his flags till his arms ached. But Henry just sat there in the  tunnel. 

“As I said, I’m not ruining my paint and red stripes for you,” he finished. And he finished off by blowing steam at the guard. 



The  next train followed up the line stopping at a red signal just short of  the tunnel. Aboard this train was a bald, fat man, dressed in a white  formal shirt, a black tie, a yellow waistcoat, a black dinner jacket,  black formal trousers, and a pair of formal shoes, polished to  perfection. He also wore a large top hat, even when indoors, which made  his name most apt. His name, was Sir Toppham  Hatt, and he was the Director of the North Western Railway. As a  result, most people referred to him as the Fat Director, due to his  being very round-just never to his face. 

He hopped off the train, to see the guard from Henry’s train walking down the line. “Whatever is going on?” he asked. 

“Henry won’t leave the tunnel sir,” the guard said. “Even Fluttershy can’t get him to move.” 

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. “We’ll settle that nonsense,” he said grimly. 



At the front, he spoke loudly, his voice booming down the tunnel. “FLORA SHANNON, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” he boomed. 

Fluttershy covered her ears, as his voice was very loud. It will surprise you not to hear that Fluttershy was just a nickname the girl had, on account of her nervous and... well, shy nature. “Well, Sir Toppham Hatt,” she said, quietly but bravely. “I’m afraid Henry is afraid of the rain, and wants to wait until it blows over.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt looked furious. “What?” he asked. “We can’t just have engines  stopping for no reason in between signal boxes! It would break Rule 55,  and the Thin Clergyman would be very cross!” He stopped over to Henry.  “If you won’t come out, we’ll pull you out!” 

So they attached a rope and pulled, all the passengers together. Except Sir Toppham Hatt. “My doctor has forbidden me to pull,” he quickly explained. 

Alas, all of those passengers pulling together couldn’t move the 112-ton steam engine. But Sir Toppham Hatt was not deterred. 

“Well then,” he said. “If we cannot pull you out, Henry, we will have to push you out instead!” 

So, they all went around to the back of the train, and everyone began to push. Everyone, that is, except Sir Toppham Hatt. 

“My  doctor has forbidden me to push,” he explained as well, aware that the  explanation was not entirely convincing. “One, two, three, PUSH!” 



I’m  sorry to say that pushing proved to be equally ineffective. Muscle  power couldn’t move the train at all. No matter how hard they tried,  Henry simply sat in the tunnel, not moving an inch. 

A few minutes later, Sir Toppham  Hatt had another idea. “Why not get another engine to push him out?” he  asked. “That is sure to have the tractive effort to push Henry out!” 

Presently, Edward and Applejack rolled up. “What’s the problem sir?” Applejack asked. 

“Henry won’t leave the tunnel,” Sir Toppham Hatt explained. “I want you two to push him out.” 

“That  we can try, sir,” Edward answered, and buffered up to the train. He  pushed and pushed and pushed, smoke and steam pouring from his funnel  and cylinders as he tried to get Henry and his train to move. But Henry  was too big, and too heavy, and didn’t move an inch beyond where he had  stopped. This was probably because they had forgotten to release his  brakes, but that was an entirely separate matter. 

When Edward had exhausted himself pushing, Fluttershy  went to try and negotiate with Henry one last time. “Look Henry!” she  said. “It’s stopped raining now. It’s safe to come out; your paint won’t  get ruined.” 

Henry  looked unconvinced. “Yes,” he said. “But the rain will begin again. And  what would happen to my lovely green paint and red stripes then?” 

It took a lot to anger Fluttershy,  but even she had her limits. And her limits were firmly reached.  “Fine!” she snapped. “If you just want to sit there, go ahead!” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt had come up the train by this point, and he had had enough as  well. “We shall tear up the rails and wall you in there,” he said. “You  shall remain here for always and always and always. That’ll teach the  other engines to behave.” 



Sure  enough, after recovering the coaches, they ripped the rails up in front  of Henry, dropped his fire, and built a brick wall in front of him. The  former down line was changed into a siding, with a track to allow  trains to swing onto the mainline. 

Now all Henry could do was watch the other trains rushing to and fro as they went about their duty. 

Edward would whistle to him. “Peep peep! Hello!” 

Applejack would join in as well. “Hope ya like it in there!” she called. “That’ll teach ya ta behave!” 

Gordon would rush past as well. “Poop poop poop! Serves you right you big coward!” 



Henry  had no steam to answer, as his fire had long since been dropped. His  paint was covered in muck from the tunnel, and rust had begun to  accumulate on his running gear. He wondered if he would ever pull trains  again, or even have a chance to say sorry to Fluttershy. 



But I think he deserved it, don’t you?
> Edward, Gordon, and Henry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon  was often used to pull the Wild Nor’Wester, the long, heavy express  train usually formed of Collett ‘Sunshine’ bogie coaches. This ran from Tidmouth to Vicarstown, calling at Knapford  along the way, and Gordon was very proud. This was because he was the  only engine on the line strong enough to pull the train on his own. 

Today, the train was completely full, and Sir Toppham Hatt was riding as he had an important meeting with Network Rail in Vicarstown to attend. In the cab of Gordon were Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. Fluttershy had chosen to work with Rainbow Dash as otherwise it meant she had no work to go to, as Henry was still shut up in the tunnel. 

The  train raced along the line, bogies bouncing and rolling as the  carriages rumbled along. Gordon was seeing if he could hit the line  speed limit of 75 miles an hour. “Hurry along! Hurry along!” he called  to the coaches. 

“Trickety trock! Trickety trock! Trickety trock!”  they replied, which was mildly unnerving given the fact they had no  faces and, by logical extension, no mouths. However, nobody on Sodor  seemed to pay this much thought at all, as talking vehicles were seen as  normal. 

Toward the end of his run, Gordon raced toward Ballahoo Tunnel, where Henry was bricked up as a result of being afraid of the rain. 

Henry  was very miserable. “Oh dear,” he said to himself. “Why did I worry so  about that silly rain spoiling my paint and red stripes? Will Sir Toppham Hatt and Fluttershy ever forgive me for what I said to them, and let me out of here to pull trains again?” 

Meanwhile,  Gordon flew down the line. “I’ll whistle loudly at Henry when I pass  him!” he said, with a smile. “And won’t he be sad!” 

Rainbow Dash put her head out of the side of the cab, checking the signals ahead. “Good, we’re clear into Vicarstown,” she smiled. 

But  then there was a loud bang. Steam poured out of a gap in the regulator  housing, and the safety valve went off in a thunderous roar. 

Fluttershy  shrieked at the loud noise and hid underneath the fireman’s seat, as  Rainbow Dash brought Gordon to a safe and controlled stop just outside  the tunnel. 



Gordon looked dumbfounded. “What has happened to me?” he asked. “I feel so weak!” 

Rainbow  Dash climbed onto the running board and took a look. “The safety valve  has gone,” she said. “You won’t be able to pull the train anymore as  there’s nothing to properly regulate boiler pressure. Sorry Gordon.” 

Gordon sighed sadly. “Oh, the indignity,” he said sadly. “We were going so well too. Look, there’s Henry laughing at me!” 

Sure enough, there was Henry, grinning like an idiot from buffer to buffer and chortling like a traction engine. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt came up to see what the problem was, and huffed when Rainbow Dash  explained the problem. “I never liked these big engines, that always go  wrong,” he sighed. “Send for another engine at once.” 



Whilst they waited for the guard to phone Tidmouth  yard, Rainbow Dash moved Gordon off the mainline and into a siding, as  he had just enough steam to move there. Once they were in position, she  dropped his fire and let him cool down, wiping her forehead of sweat. 

At the yard, Applejack heard her mobile phone go, and answered it. “Applejack here, how can Ah help ya?” she asked. 

“Can you bring Edward to Ballyhoo tunnel?” the voice of the guard asked on the other end. "Gordon has had a bit of a prang and we need another engine to pull the train into Vicarstown.” 

Applejack smiled. “Sure thing!” She hung up, and opened Edward’s regulator. “C’mon partner, we got a train ta rescue!” 



They arrived, and moved Edward onto the front of the train, coupling him up as they did so. 

“That’s no good!” Gordon snapped. “Edward can’t possibly pull the train! It’s simply not possible!” 

“Do you have an off switch?” Rainbow Dash asked. 



Edward  pulled and puffed and puffed and pulled, but no matter what he did the  train simply would not move. No matter how hard he tried, the train was  simply too heavy. They gave up in the end, Applejack wiping her brow as  she did so. 

“By  the eight lifetimes of Granny Smith, that train is heavy!” she  exclaimed in frustration, her face red with either anger or the heat. 

“Told you,” Gordon said rudely. 

“Unless you have a better suggestion, I strongly advise you stay quiet!” Sir Toppham Hatt snapped. 

“Why not let Henry try?” Gordon suggested. “He can pull it easily, being a 5MT.” 

“That’s a marvellous idea!” Sir Toppham Hatt said. “I’ll ask him!” 

Sir Toppham Hatt walked over to Henry. “Will you help pull this train Henry?” he asked. 

Henry smiled. “I will sir,” he replied. “But there’s someone I want to apologise to.” 

Fluttershy then walked over to him. “Everything’s OK Henry,” she said. “I forgive you. Now then, shall we put it behind us?” 

“Yes!” Henry exclaimed. “Most certainly!” 



With  some spare coal from Gordon, they relit Henry’s fire, cleaned the rust  off his motion and cylinders, and soon got him moving again. Even though  they had oiled him round, it soon became apparent that months out of  use had taken their toll on him. 

“Oh! I’m so stiff, I’m so stiff!” he groaned, as he backed out of the tunnel, caked in soot and grime. 

Sir Toppham Hatt called to Fluttershy. “Run him up and down a few times to ease out any parts. And don’t forget to use a turntable!” 



Sure  enough, Henry got back, and was coupled to the front of the train.  Applejack opened Edward’s regulator and moved him onto the front,  backing him onto the train and coupling him to Henry. 

Fluttershy called over to Rainbow Dash. “Do you want to ride in Henry’s cab, Rainbow Dash?” 

“Sorry Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash called back. “I need to ensure Gordon’s OK. Thanks for the offer though!” 

After that, Applejack sounded Edward’s whistle. “Peep peep peep!” the blue 4-4-0 called. “I’m ready!” 

Fluttershy responded with Henry’s whistle. “Peep peep peep! So am I!” the green 4-6-0 replied. 

Applejack laughed. “C’mon y’all!” she cried. “Let’s get this wagon train rollin’!” 

With  a roar and a clatter, the two engines got the heavy train moving down  the line and into the tunnel. Smoke and steam poured into the air with  the fury of a volcanic eruption, as the two engines sailed along. 

“We’ve done it! We’ve done it!” called Henry. 

“You’ve done it, hurrah! You’ve done it, hurrah!” cried the coaches. 

The train flew along the line, and Sir Toppham  Hatt poked his head out of a window in order to see how fast they were  going as steam poured out of the engine’s funnels. This was a mistake,  as his hat flew off and landed in a nearby field, where a passing ram  ate it for its dinner. 

He sighed. “I hope nobody got a picture of that,” he sighed. 

They stopped at Vicarstown,  the end of North Western running rights, and the passengers all said  thank you to both Edward and Henry. On the platform, the two drivers  spoke to one another. 

“Ah don’t think Ah’ve really spoken to ya,” Applejack said, extending her hand. “Ah’m Applejack.” 

Fluttershy took her hand. “I’m Fluttershy, nice to meet you.” 



Edward, Gordon, Henry, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy,  and Applejack are all good friends now, and Henry is no longer afraid  of the rain. He knows now that the best way to keep clean is not to hide  in tunnels, but to ask Fluttershy to rub him down at the end of a hard working day.
> Thomas & Gordon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas is a Tank Engine, who lives at Tidmouth  station on the Island of Sodor. He is a London, Brighton and South  Coast Railway E2 class locomotive, with six blue wheels, a short stumpy  funnel, a short stumpy boiler, and a short stumpy dome. 

Like  all the other engines on the island, he has a driver. Her name is  Twyla, but everyone calls her Twilight. She has lavender skin, deep  purple eyes, and blue, purple and pink hair set out in strands, though  blue is by far the dominating colour. She wears black and purple boots, a  purple skirt, a turqoise  blouse with what seems to be a bow tie, and can usually be seen with a  backpack, usually stuffed to the gunwales with scientific texts. 

Thomas is a fussy engine. Despite being based at Tidmouth, he is usually used to marshal coaches at Knapford for the bigger engines (yes, all three of them) to take away on their long journeys. 

Then,  when they return from said journeys later in the day, Thomas and  Twilight take the coaches away to the sidings, so that the bigger  engines can go and have a rest. This role of station pilot is very  important, and I am sorry to say it has made Thomas rude and conceited,  as he thinks no other engine works as hard as he does. As a result, he  often plays tricks on them, especially Gordon and his driver Rainbow  Dash. It is a common sight to see Thomas whistle rudely at him. “Peep peep peep! Wake up lazybones, why don’t you work hard like me?” It is most annoying, and eventually got him into quite the mess one day. 

One day, Gordon rolled quietly into the sidings at Knapford,  keen on having a rest. He had pulled a long, heavy train all the way  from the Mainland, and now that the run was over, he was looking forward  to the opportunity to rest his wheels and not have to do anything for a  while. His eyes rolled closed and he began to snore, Rainbow Dash  staying on his footplate to keep him company. 

Just  then, Thomas and Twilight backed up into a nearby siding, shunting some  trucks into order ready for Henry to take out. Before anybody knew what  had happened, Thomas’ whistle sounded loud and shrill. 

“Wake up lazybones!” he shouted. “Do some hard work for a change, you can’t catch me!” And he whizzed away. 

“Sorry!” Twilight called to Gordon. 

Gordon’s eyes shot open, and Rainbow Dash yelped in surprise, nearly falling out of the cab in the process. 

“What in the world was that?” she asked, confused. 

“That,”  Gordon said grimly, “was Thomas. That tank engine is nothing but a  silly nuisance around here, and I vote we need to teach him a lesson  somehow.” 

Rainbow  Dash nodded. She had had similar issues with the other engines, but  this behaviour from Thomas simply took the cake. “What should we do?”  she asked. “It ought to be something he won’t forget. Ever.” 

Gordon  thought long and hard for a moment. “I know,” he said, with a grin  forming on his face that would rival the Cheshire Cat. “We’ll do it  tomorrow.” And then he told her his plan, leaving no stone unturned and  no expense spared. 



The  next morning, Twilight came by early in the morning and clocked on for  her shift. She noticed that Edward and Henry had already set off on  their runs, and this meant she wouldn’t be seeing Applejack or Fluttershy  for much of the day. She hopped onto Thomas’ footplate, and then lit  his fire using some coal, which she then shovelled in to boost the heat. 

But  it seemed to have little effect. The needle on the pressure gauge moved  sluggishly, as Thomas simply wouldn’t wake up. His fire went out  several times and there was nowhere near enough steam to get him moving  anywhere. 

This  was a huge problem, as the express was due out in a few minutes, and  Gordon couldn’t collect those coaches himself, as it is not safe for  tender engines to run backwards for prolonged periods at high speeds. 

“Come on Thomas,” Twilight said. “Wake up, please!” 

“I’m sho tired,” Thomas murmured. “Can’t I wait a few more minutesh?” 

Twilight sighed. “The express is due out in a few minutes, we can’t wait a few more minutes,” she explained. 

Just  then, Thomas’ fire roared into life as Twilight opened the blower, and he was ready to go.  Eventually, he had enough steam up to start moving. Twilight hopped  onboard, and opened the regulator. Thomas rolled out of the shed door,  over the turntable and past the signal box, rolling toward the carriage  sidings. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he yawned as he went along. 

Twilight  moved him gently into the coaches, and then coupled him up with the  shunting pole. Resetting his reverser, she then adjusted his regulator  to move him back to the station threshold, where a shunters signal held  them for a few minutes. 

Gordon  was sitting on a nearby slip track, looking very cross. Admittedly,  this was not much of a change from usual, as he often seemed to be in a  grumpy mood. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “Hurry up!” 

Thomas shot him an angry glare. “Hurry up yourself!” he snapped. Just then the  shunting signal changed, and Thomas moved backward into the station  with the coaches. The Home signal on Gordon’s track then changed, and  Rainbow Dash eased open his regulator to move him onto the Up line. She  then sounded the whistle three times, to request permission to back into  a section with a train in it. 

Just  as the signal dropped, Gordon reversed so quickly he was on the front  of the train in seconds. Rainbow Dash hopped off to hook him up, and  then jumped back in the cab once the vacuum brake hoses were properly  applied. 

With  heavy trains such as this, it is common practice to bank them for a  short distance out of the station. Normally, this is done with the rear  engine uncoupled. But today, Gordon would have his revenge. 

The  moment the signal dropped, the guard blew his whistle and waved his  green flag. Gordon started off so quickly there was no time to uncouple  Thomas! 



Gordon  accelerated out of the station and thundered down the line, the  percussive three-cylinder beat echoing along the track and through the  valleys as he raced along. And coupled to the back, his regulator full  open, was Thomas! And inside Thomas’ cab was Twilight, hanging on for  dear life. 

“What...is...HAPPENING?” she cried out in confusion. She grabbed the in-cab radio and attempted to call Rainbow Dash. 

Rainbow  Dash heard the buzzer tone in the cab, but ignored it. “Our chance at  last!” she called to Gordon. “75 miles an hour from now on!” 

She cranked open the regulator further. The train was going so fast it seemed poor Thomas’ wheels would fall off. “Peep peep peep! STOP! STOP!” he shouted. 

“You  can’t get away, you can’t get away!” the coaches laughed. Presently,  they saw Edward heading the other way, with Applejack leaning out of the  cab. 

“EDWARD!” Thomas called, as he vanished out of sight. 

Applejack looked totally bewildered. “What in tarnation just happened?” she asked. 

Edward sighed. “Thomas appears to have got himself in a bit of a pickle,” he said. 



They  raced along, Thomas getting more and more tired as they flew through  tunnels and over viaducts. “I shall never be the same again, my wheels  will be quite worn out!” he called sadly. 

Just ahead of them, the Vicarstown  station approaches loomed. Rainbow Dash looked out, and began to apply  the brakes, bringing the train to a smooth and gentle stop just as the  clock boomed out the chimes of 11 o’clock. 

“Yeah!” she said. “Right on time!” 

Gordon smiled. “That would be, how do you put it...20% cooler?” 

“Exactly!” Rainbow Dash replied. 



Upon  realising they had stopped, Twilight got out of the cab, her face  green. Hopping down, the uncoupled Thomas and removed the brake hoses,  before moving him backward and into the access loop to reach the shed. 

She stopped him as he drew level with Gordon’s cab. She did not look pleased. 

“What were you thinking?” she asked, in a very loud voice. 

Rainbow  Dash regarded her coolly. “Sorry Twi, but Thomas needed to learn his  place. Turns out mocking other engines is a silly policy.” 

Gordon laughed. “Well Thomas, now you know what hard work is, don’t you?” He whistled loudly, and moved off to the yard. 

Thomas  was too tired to answer, and was still panting as he moved to the  turntable to have his water and coal supply replenished. Once they had  turned him around, he and Twilight set off for home. 

But he was now a sadder and wiser engine. As they headed back to Knapford, Thomas started speaking. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t tease Gordon again,” he said. 

Twilight was in no place to disagree with the sentiment.
> Thomas' Train
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A  few days later, Thomas was at it again, grumbling to the other engines.  “I spend all my time here pulling coaches about for you to take on long  journeys,” he moaned. The heavy MK1 coaches rumbled to a stop in the  platform, and Twilight went to uncouple Thomas. 

Not noticing, he simply went on with his grumbling. “Why can’t I pull passenger trains too?” 

Twilight  went and spoke to him. “Thomas,” she said, “it probably won’t happen,  so there’s absolutely no point in moaning about it. You’ve been at this  for days!” 

“Twilight’s  right, you know,” Gordon added, a smirk on his face. “For one, you’re  too impatient, you’d be sure to leave something behind!” 

With that remark, he and Rainbow Dash broke into laughter. “Good one Gordon!” she said, with a grin. 

“Rubbish!” snapped Thomas. “I’ll show you, no matter how long it takes!” 



That  night, Thomas stayed awake all night, unable to sleep. There were a  number of factors in this inability to sleep, but the main one was the  fact the railway had decided to turn the stall next to his into a  maintenance shop at the last minute. This stall was occupied by Henry,  who seemed to be having mechanical issues, and Fluttershy  and the other engineers worked all night trying to figure out what was  wrong with the big green engine. But alas, they couldn’t find a thing.  Thomas sat there, all night, worried for the big engine. 

What would happen to the passengers if he cannot run? He thought to himself. 



The next morning, Henry was failed with leaking tubes and had to be towed to the works at Crovan’s  Gate. This presented a problem, as Henry usually pulled the first train  of the day. Gordon was out at the other end of the line, and Edward was  on goods duty at Wellsworth, so there was no engine. 

“Thomas,” Henry wheezed. “If they cannot find another engine, will you take my train for me?” 

Thomas thought for a moment. This might be his chance! “Alright Henry,” he said to his friend. “I promise.” 

“Thanks,” Henry replied, as they buffered up a nondescript works diesel and towed him away. 

Thomas  then had to go and marshal a full 5 coach rake for the morning train,  as some joker had decided to scatter all the carriages and wagons across  the yard in various unhelpful places. It took him and Twilight almost  an hour to assemble the train, and then brought it back into the  platform at Knapford. Twilight got off the footplate and sat on the platform, visibly nervous for some reason. 

Thomas,  on the other hand, had to do all in his power to keep his excitement in  check. Time went past, passengers got on the train, and still no other  engine came along to pull the train. 



Eventually, once all the doors were closed and everyone was onboard, Sir Toppham Hatt came out of his office to see what was going on. “Whatever is happening here?” he asked. “Where is Henry?” 

Twilight spoke to him. “Sir, Henry was failed with leaking tubes and had to be towed to the works at Crovan’s Gate for repairs. Hence his not being coupled to the front of the train.” 

Sir Toppham Hatt looked most annoyed. “Well, find another engine!” he said. 

“That’s  the problem, sir,” Twilight replied. “There only is one engine  available, with Edward on the goods and Gordon elsewhere. That engine is  Thomas.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt sighed. “Oh dear,” he said. “I really could do with another  engine, maybe one from the Lancashire and Yorkshire. I’ll deal with that  now, but are you sure Thomas can do it?” 

“I’ll try sir!” Thomas cried. 

“There’s a good engine!” Sir Toppham Hatt exclaimed. “Be quick now!” 



As Sir Toppham  Hatt went back to his office, Twilight hopped back onto Thomas’  footplate, wound his reverser back, and opened the regulator. Thomas  rolled back through the junction, over the points, and through the other  platform and onto another set of points to run him onto the main  running line. Once the reverser signal had cleared, he reversed onto the  train and stopped, colliding with the coaches with a gentle bump. 

Twilight checked back. But what happened next, nobody knows. 

Perhaps  Twilight pulled the regulator by mistake. Perhaps Thomas was too  excited to listen. Either way, Thomas started off, but he hadn’t been  coupled up, and as a result the coaches were left behind-along with the  passengers, who all started shouting. 

As  Thomas rolled past the first signal box, the signalman began to shout  to him. But Thomas paid no attention to what he was saying, as he  assumed that the signalman was praising him. 

“He’s saying what a splendid sight we are!” he called to Twilight. 



Thomas  gathered speed as he sped down the mainline, people gathering  everywhere on both the lineside and platforms to watch this tank engine  running light engine at speed down the line. 

“Henry  says this is hard work, but I think pulling trains is easy!” he  exclaimed. As he flew over a level crossing, he called out, “Peep peep peep! Hurry, hurry, hurry!” pretending to be like Gordon. 

Twilight laughed at Thomas’ joke. “Good one Thomas!” she said. “I can’t wait to see Rainbow Dash’s face when she hears of this!” 



But  the good run came to a premature end. Just up ahead, outside Crosby,  was a red signal. Twilight applied Thomas’ brakes and brought him to a  gentle stop. 

“Bother!” he exclaimed. “It’s at danger! And we were going so nicely too! What a nuisance signals are!” 

“If  it’s a choice between that or crashing, I think I know which I’d  prefer,” Twilight said, as she hopped off the footplate to speak to the  signalman. “Excuse me sir,” she asked, “but what is happening up ahead?” 

“Line’s  blocked just up ahead,” he said. “I must say, I don’t often see you two  down here. Come to think of it, last time was when you were coupled to  the back of Gordon’s train?” 

Thomas turned red. “Must we have constant reminders of that? But I’m pulling a train, can’t you see?” 

The signalman simply looked in confusion. “Then where are your coaches?” he asked. 

Twilight turned around, and then did a double take. “No no no! NO NO NO NO! NO NO NO!”  she cried, going into a fully-blown panic attack. “Those passengers are  stranded at the station! Why didn’t I check the couplings? Maybe they  were faulty? Or I-” 

Thomas glanced back as well. “Well, bless me!” he exclaimed. “If we haven’t left them behind!” His face fell almost immediatelty. 

“Don’t  worry Thomas,” Twilight said. “We’ll just go back and get them.”  Stepping back into the cab, she reset the reverser and opened the  regulator, gently reversing Thomas down the line. 



At Knapford, all of the passengers were complaining to Sir Toppham  Hatt about how bad the railway was. But when Thomas and Twilight  returned, and apologised for the mess that had been made, they were  forgiven, and the passengers forgot to be angry. Twilight hooked Thomas  up, and this time he really pulled it, even if they arrived in Vicarstown more than two hours late. 

That evening, Gordon returned to the station, laughing. 

“So, how’d it go?” Rainbow Dash asked, smirking. 

“Not well,” Twilight admitted. 

“Well,  you do work with the engine who wanted to pull coaches but forgot the  train!” Gordon snorted, and the entire station started laughing. 

Except Thomas and Twilight of course, who just simmered crossly.
> Thomas and the Trucks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A  few nights after the passenger train fiasco, Thomas was at it yet  again, never ceasing to be a nuisance. “I’m tired of pushing and pulling  coaches, I want to see the world,” he told them, over and over again,  just in case they had forgotten. 

The  other engines paid him little notice, and it eventually got on  Twilight’s nerves as well. “Thomas, can you PLEASE stop talking about  seeing the world?” she asked. “If you’re not careful, you may end up  doing so in a bad film!” 

That  had the desired effect-for one night at least. Not that anybody paid  any attention anyway, as Thomas was a little engine with a long tongue.  But one night, Edward and Applejack came back to the shed after having  worked a late-night goods run. 

“Hey there Thomas!” Applejack greeted warmly. “Why the long face?” 

Thomas  simply looked down at her sadly. “I’ve spent most of my life in this  yard,” he said sadly. “And I desperately want a chance to prove I can  pull trains, as I made a bit of a mess of the last attempt.” 

Edward  had heard all about that, and had been most disgusted at the fact the  other engines laughed about it. “Thomas,” he said, “I have an idea. I  have some trucks to take to Wellsworth tomorrow, but if you want, you can take them whilst I handle the yard here. How does that sound?” 

“Hooray!” cried Thomas. 

“Pipe down!” Gordon shouted. “Some of us are trying to sleep!” 



The next morning, as Twilight came into work, Applejack greeted her by the running yard access door. “Howdy Twi!” she said. 

“Morning  Applejack,” Twilight replied, carefully balancing her mug of tea on  Thomas’ running board. “Something you wanted to speak to me about?” 

“Well,” the country girl began, “Thomas was tellin’ me and Edward how sad he is that he can’t leave the yard and pull trains.” 

“Oh not this again,” Twilight sighed. 

“Mah thinkin’ was that we could swap jobs fer the day,” Applejack offered. “You and Thomas and take mah goods train ta Wellsworth, whilst Eddie and Ah can care fer the yard here. How’s that sound?” 

Twilight smiled. “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Let's do it!” 



After  everyone had agreed to the swap, Thomas and Twilight headed off to  collect some trucks. Now then, trucks are noisy and silly. They talk a  lot and pay little attention to what they are doing, a problem made  worse by the fact that they lack continuous braking. An inexperienced  engine can be easily caught out by them, and Thomas was most certainly  inexperienced. He may have known how to shunt them, but he certainly  didn’t know how to pull them in a goods train! 

Thomas  marshalled his trucks. Although Edward had given him many useful tips  about handling trucks, he hadn’t been listening at the time. He pushed  together a train consisting of a mix of 13-ton plank wagons and 12-ton  unfitted vans, and when all was ready the guard blew his whistle and  waved his green flag. Twilight pulled the whistle chord in response, and  opened Thomas’ regulator. They were off onto the main line! 

Although  the timetable said they were to depart then, the trucks weren’t ready  to go. “Stop Thomas! Stop!” they called, in an effort to get Thomas to  stop. 

“Come  along, come along!” he told them, as they rumbled along the line. They  rolled through tunnels and under bridges, and past crowds of people  watching trains rolling past. Thomas flew through the tunnel in which  Henry had been shut up a few weeks earlier, and then throhgh another station. 

“This is the life!” he called, happily. Twilight then checked behind her, and looked in surprise.  

“Wait a minute!” she cried. “The formation of trucks has changed! That Bloater van wasn't there when we departed!” 

Thomas  either didn’t hear her or ignored her, as he flew onwards along the  line toward his final destination. Flying through Crosby, past the  signal that had held him up a few days ago, and felt a lot better. Not  only as he pulling a train, he was pulling it well. 

But  the trucks were angry, as they always were for some bizarre reason, and  grew even more so as Thomas began his ascent of Marron’s Bank (or  Gordon’s Hill, as it had now been christened). 

Suddenly,  the train seemed to be heavier. “I don’t recall it being this heavy!”  he groaned. Twilight looked back and suddenly noticed some of the plank  wagons had loads in them that hadn’t been there moments earlier. 

“This is getting too weird,” she groaned, as she adjusted Thomas’ reverser to get more power on the climb. 

“Look out for the train!” an anonymous voice called from somewhere. 

Twilight  thought little of it, as weird as her day already was, and focused on  driving as the train reached the summit of Gordon’s hill. She applied  the brakes in order to prepare them for the other side. “OK Thomas, we  need to stop!” she called, as the brakes came on. 

“We're stopping, we’re stopping!” Thomas called to the trucks. The Guard, in response, screwed on the brake van brake. 

But the trucks were having none of it. “No no no no!” they shouted, bumping into each other. “Go on! Go on!” 



Thomas  and the train rocketed down the other side of Gordon’s Hill, speed  rising dangerously fast as the weight of the train forced them downhill.  The speedometer read 40 miles an hour, but Twilight knew that they were  going a lot faster than that. Thomas had his brakes hard on to try and  slow them down, but it seemed to be having little effect. “Stop pushing!  Stop pushing!” he shouted to the trucks. 

“Go  on! Go on!” they giggled, in their silly way, as Thomas reached the  bottom of the bank and raced through Maron, being diverted onto a siding  and somehow not derailing. The buffers loomed closer and closer. 

“I must stop!” he cried, and shut his eyes. 

“HELP!” Twilight called out, and prepared to jump. 



And just then, Thomas stopped, reopening his eyes as he did so. The buffers had stopped him, but only just. “That’s a relief.” 

Just then, a familiar voice echoed over the terrain. “What are you two doing here, Thomas and Twilight?” asked Sir Toppham Hatt. 

“We’re bringing Edward’s trucks,” Twilight explained. “But we didn’t mean to come down so fast, those trucks bumped us!” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt nodded. “Well, you’ve both got a lot to learn about trucks. A few  weeks working with Edward and Applejack, and you’ll know just as much  about them as they do.” 

Thomas whistled sadly. “Yes sir,” he said, and puffed away.
> Thomas and the Breakdown Train
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every day, Sir Toppham Hatt came to see Thomas and Twilight in the yard before catching his train to Vicarstown. “Hello you two!” he exclaimed. “I hope you learned a lot in Edward’s yard.” 

“I did sir,” Thomas said. “Hopefully I can handle trucks now.” 

Twilight frowned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Thomas,” she said. 

“Precisely!” Sir Toppham  Hatt said. “Remember Thomas, you’re not as strong or fast as Gordon,  but you can be really useful. Don’t let those trucks bother you!” 



Thomas and Twilight worked very hard in the yard at Tidmouth,  pushing and pulling many, many different types of coaches and trucks  about the yard. However, there were some oddities in the yard that  puzzled him. 

There  were, for example, two large machines with great big arms, coupled to a  four-wheel coach marked ‘WORKS UNIT’. Thomas wondered what those  machines could be, and so Twilight took the opportunity to explain what  they were. 

“That’s  a breakdown train Thomas,” she explained. “It consists of a tool coach  and two 45-ton cranes. The cranes are for lifting engines, coaches, and  trucks back onto the rails when they have come off the rails. But it’s  only for emergencies, so don’t move them about unless you absolutely  have to.” 

“OK Twilight,” Thomas replied. Those few days at Wellsworth had taught him to listen carefully and not to act impulsively, but still he wished someday something would happen. 

That something would come all too soon. 



One  day, Thomas and Twilight were shunting, when suddenly frantic whistling  could be heard from higher up the line. This was soon followed by a  loud screeching noise. 

Just  then, an engine shot past with a goods train, going much too fast. He  was painted completely black, and had 2 small wheels with 6 larger ones  behind them. Flames were shooting from his brake blocks mounted behind  the centre driving wheel, and he was shouting in a panic. 

“Help!  Help!” he cried. “They’re pushing me! They’re pushing me!” As he said  this, a girl, presumably his driver, leaned out and shouted to them. 

“Please, somebody do something!” she shouted, as they roared into the distance and out of sight. 

“What was that?” Thomas exclaimed. 



A few minutes later, a bell rang out from the signal box. “James is off the line!” the signal man shouted. “Somebody get the breakdown train, quickly!” 

Twilight  adjusted Thomas’ regulator. “That’s us!” she called. “C’mon, let’s go!”  Gently buffering him up, they reversed out with the train and headed up  the line. 

“Hurry,  hurry, hurry!” he shouted. But he wasn't pretending to be like Gordon.  This time he really meant it. “Bother those trucks, I hope James is OK.” 



They  reached the crash site soon enough, and what they saw was horrifying.  Wagons were thrown all over the field and scattered over the tracks, and  the engine-James-was lying on his side, whilst the girl from earlier  was checking for any damage to him. Her eyes were wet, and as a  consequence her mascara was running down her face. She had white skin  and purple hair with blue eyes. She wore a pair of white boots, purple  shorts with a diamond pattern on them, white socks, and a turquoise  sleeveless shirt. 

“Whose idea was it to fit you with wooden brake blocks?” she asked, as she checked James over. 

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I told them they were no good, but somebody was clearly intent on cutting corners!” 

Just then, Thomas arrived with the breakdown train, and Twilight called out. “Is anybody hurt?” she asked. 

“Thankfully, no darling,” the girl replied, walking over to Thomas. “But poor Jamesy here is such a mess, and his paintwork has been ruined. This is the WORST. POSSIBLE. THING!” 

Twilight shook her head. “We’ll get the remaining wagons out of the way. Focus on lifting James.” 

So  they started by moving the damaged trucks away and putting them back  into the yard. Thomas moved them roughly, as they moaned as they were  pulled away and shunted into sidings. 

“Oh dear, oh dear,” they groaned. 

“Serves  you right, serves you right!” Thomas said angrily, stunned that the  trucks could act so recklessly. He really felt no sympathy for the silly  things at all. “This’ll teach you a lesson!” 

Those  tucks that had derailed were recovered next, until at last, all the  needed to be moved was James. The breakdown gang slipped two chains  under James, one under his front bogie, and the other under his rear  driving wheels, and the two cranes began to lift, pulling the steam  engine out of the dirt and mud in which he had been lying. It took a lot  of work, as the engine was very heavy, but at long last they had him  back on the rails. However, it wasn’t safe to move him under his own  steam from the damage he had taken, so Thomas was coupled to him who  began to tow him back to Tidmouth. 

The  new girl rode in Thomas’ cab, and was very impressed with Thomas and  Twilight. “Thank you for saving us from that accident,” she said, with a  smile. “James and I do appreciate it most certainly.” 

“No problem,” Twilight replied. “I never did catch your name.” 

“Rachel Belle,” she replied. “But you may call me Rarity.” 



Presently, they reached the shed, where Sir Toppham Hatt was waiting for them. 

“Well done!” he said. “James shall go to the works to have his brakes replaced, and a new coat of paint.” 

“Sir,” Rarity asked, “may I remain James’ driver?” 

“Of course!” Sir Toppham  Hatt replied. “Now as for Thomas and Twilight, you have shown to me you  are both really useful. As a result, I have decided to give you both a branchline to run.” 

“Oh, thank you sir!” Thomas said happily. 

Twilight smiled. “We won’t let you down sir.” 



Nowadays, Thomas puffs happily up and down his branch line, which runs between Knapford and Ffarquhar.  He runs up and down the line with Twilight and his two coaches, but he is  never lonely. Edward and Henry stop regularly in order to tell him the  news, and although Gordon and Rainbow Dash are usually in a hurry, they  never forget to say hello to Thomas and Twilight, who always say hello in return.
> James and the Top Hat
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

James  is a mixed-traffic engine, built to pull both passengers and freight,  known as a Mogul. This means he had 2 small wheels, and 6 larger ones,  called driving wheels. He is smaller than Henry but larger than Edward,  and is somewhere between them in terms of pulling power. He did not have  a good start to his time on the Island of Sodor, having derailed in a  field on his first day, but both he and his driver Rarity has been  cleared of any wrongdoing, which was certainly a relief for him. He was  perhaps the furthest from home of all the engines, having been built for  the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway in 1921 as a prototype 2-6-0 goods  engine. However, the design had not been continued in favour of the  Hughes-Fowler Crab, and as a result James had been unique from the very  beginning. He had eventually wound up here, and here he would stay. 

James  had also received a much-needed repaint since his accident. Gone was  his nondescript black livery with red stripes. In the place of his old  colours sat a wondrous livery of red with gold stripes. His dome shone  with a brass gleam, and his tender bore the same colours as well, though  lacked a number given there were only five locomotives in total on the  Island of Sodor. 



One morning, Sir Toppham Hatt (who by now had been promoted to the Fat Controller) was speaking to both James and Rarity at Tidmouth station. 

“James,”  he said, “You’re a special mixed-traffic engine, which means you can  pull both coaches and trucks. But, like all engines, you must learn from  your mistakes.” 

“Really  sir,” Rarity began, “I don’t think it is fair to blame James for the  derailment. Those wooden brake blocks catching fire was hardly his  fault, after all.” 

“True,” Sir Toppham Hatt replied. “But still, you both have a lot to learn. I want you to work with Edward and Applejack today on the Local to Vicarstown.” 

“Yes sir!” James replied, relishing the opportunity to pull a passenger train instead of trucks. 



Rarity and James went to get the coaches, and moved them out of the carriage sidings into Platform 1. 

“Please  do slow down a bit James!” Rarity exclaimed, her eyes concerned at the  speedometer. “These coaches don’t like being banged!” 

“Sorry!” called James, who seemed a little surprised, “but we need to do this quickly or else the train won’t leave on time!” 

“Jamesy,” Rarity smiled, “any person or engine can do ‘quickly’. Sir Toppham Hatt asked us, so clearly he’s going for fabulous, and fabulous takes time!” 

“Fabulous takes forever!” shouted Rainbow Dash from Gordon’s cab, as the Pacific passed them on the Up Fast. 

Rarity sighed, shaking her head. “No wonder they are so slapdash,” she said. 

James sniggered. “Good pun Rarity!” he replied. 



Presently,  Edward backed down onto the train, and Applejack hopped out to couple  the two engines together whilst Rarity was engaged coupling James to the  train. When that was done, she walked over to the other girl spoke to  her. “Ah don’t believe we got the chance to introduce ourselves proper. Ah’m Applejack.” She then extended her hand. 

Rarity  smiled. “Rachel. But you may call me Rarity if you so prefer.” She  responded to the handshake in kind, then saw Applejack’s look of  surprise. “Yes, darling?” 

“Yer dressed all kinds a’ fancy fer a local run.” Applejack indeed had a point, as instead of the white  boots, purple shorts with a diamond pattern on them, white socks, and  the turquoise sleeveless shirt, she was instead wearing purple boots and  socks, a purple skirt, and a low-cut turquoise blouse. 

“Well,”  the fashionista replied, “I concluded that for James’ first passenger  run I simply had to look my best. Nothing else would do!” 

“If ya say so.” Applejack looked unconvinced. “Well, Ah got a few last checks ta run on Eddie, so Ah gotta dash. See ya!” 

“See you later Applejack,” Rarity replied, before heading onto James’ footplate. 



Lots  of people gathered to admire James. Nobody had seen a red engine on  this line before, and as a result James was causing a lot of  fascination. I am sorry to say it rather went to his smokebox. 

I’m a really splendid engine,  he thought. Just then, he let off steam, which whooshed across the  platform and soaked the clothes of several spectators, including Sir Toppham  Hatt! This was most unfortunate, given that today he had just taken  order a new top hat to replace the one the goat had eaten. And now it  was wet. 

James  looked about in a panic, and saw the signal drop. “Let’s go!” he  shouted, suddenly pushing into Edward and starting to move the train. 

“Don’t push! Don’t push!” Edward called back. “There’s plenty of time!” 

Rarity shook her head as they rolled off. “Patience James, PLEASE. You’re like my sister when she was five!” 

“Don’t go so fast! Don’t go so fast!” the coaches cried, but nobody paid any notice. 



They  flew along the line, and out of the station approaches, past the curve  where James had derailed (although this time they were going nowhere  near as fast so derailment wasn’t something to worry about). Presently,  they came to a station, and Applejack and Rarity applied the brakes on  their respective engines to bring them to a smooth stop in the platform. 

They came to a steady stop-with two coaches outside the platform. James looked back. 

“Right,” he said, “who’s idea was it to try and fit a four-coach train into a three-coach platform?” 

As  the coaches lacked corridors, they had to back up and let the  passengers off from each and every coach. It was horribly time  consuming, and they set off late, arriving at Thomas’ station, Knapford Junction, behind schedule. 

The Blue E2 looked over to them with a smile. “Hello James! Hello Edward!” he called, with a happy smile. “Enjoying yourselves?” 

Twilight called over as well. “Nice to see you two Rarity!” she called. 

“Well, I must say Twilight you look positively fabulous,” Rarity replied, also smiling as she did. 

Just  then, a signal dropped, and a while sounded. “Sorry, can’t chat now!”  Thomas called. “That’s my guard. Catch you later!” And away he went,  with two coaches in tow. 

The  two engines made a spectacular job of Gordon’s Hill, although it is  hard to say it was particularly difficult with two engines pulling only  four coaches, and came to a stop at the big station at the end of the  line. James was happy he had been given a chance, but he was worried  somewhat. 

Rarity saw his long face as she backed him into Tidmouth sheds. “Whatever’s the matter Jamesy?” she asked politely. 

“I don’t know what Sir Toppham Hatt will say tomorrow,” he replied sadly. “How will he do without a top hat?” 

“Surely  it will have dried out by now!” Rarity answered. “I wouldn’t worry,  he’ll understand it was just an accident.” And then she headed off for  home. 

James simply looked worried, and hoped Rarity was right.
> James and the Leather Bootlace
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

James was right to be worried. The next day, as Rarity was oiling him round for his next run, Sir Toppham Hatt arrived in his blue Rover P4 90, a wonderful old vehicle that ran beautifully. Sir Toppham Hatt got out and walked over, looking very cross. 

“Good morning sir!” Rarity called. “How can I help you this fine morning!” 

“That stunt you pulled yesterday was not funny!” Sir Toppham Hatt snapped. 

“ME?!” Rarity exclaimed. “Well, that’s hardly-” 

“I was talking to James!” Sir Toppham  Hatt replied. “I do no appreciate having my clothes covered in water,  especially my new Top Hat! Do you have any idea how much it cost to have  it made on Saville Row?” 

James,  being a steam engine, had no concept of money, and as a result this  idea was meaningless. “But it was an accident!” he exclaimed. 

“I don’t care!” Sir Toppham Hatt answered. “If you can’t behave, I’ll have Crovan’s Gate remove the red livery and have you painted blue!” He then walked away without another word. 

Rarity looked after him. “But Henry is green,” she said, confused. 



James,  safe to say, was very cross that morning, having been blamed for what  was clearly an accident. He banged into the coaches and moved them  around very roughly. 

“Please don’t bang the coaches James!” Rarity called, from the footplate as she struggled to keep her balance. 

“Quiet!” James snapped. “Sir Toppham Hatt blames me for something I didn’t do, and now you take his side!” 

Rarity began to seethe with anger. “Well, I never!” she snapped. 

James  was too angry to listen. Or care. “Besides,” he said, continuing with  his rant, “Gordon never has to fetch his coaches, and he’s only painted  blue!” 

To  compound matters even further, nobody came to see James this time,  yesterday's incident having cast a black cloud over proceedings on the  rails. The guard’s whistle went as the signal arm dropped down,  indicating a clear line. There was also a green flag, and James whistled  loudly. 

“They  think only Gordon can pull passengers,” he grumbled. “Well, I’ll show  them! I’ll show them!” And he set off with a rattle and a roar up the  line, six coaches in tow behind him as they flew up the line. 

James’  good power and focused adhesion meant he was able to keep up high  speeds without slipping on the rails, making him perfect for this sort  of passengers working on the line. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he called,  pretending to be like Gordon as they sped along the rails toward their  destination. 

“You’re  going too fast! You’re going too fast!” the coaches complained, but  James paid them absolutely no heed as he flew along the railway line,  over Gordon’s hill and even through the tunnel at Ballyhoo! 

Suddenly, just as they excited the tunnel portal, James began to slow down. “Come on!” he shouted at the coaches. “Go faster!” 

“We're  going to stop, we’re going to stop!” they cried. The train got slower,  and slower, and slower, until it eventually ground to a complete and  total stop a few miles short of the Vicarstown station approaches. 

James looked around in fury. “What in the world has happened?” he asked. 

Rarity  studied the gauges in confusion. “According to the vacuum brake gauge  here, air is in the system and the brakes themselves are hard on. Which  is odd, as I haven’t applied the brakes at all, and your regulator is  still open James!” She hopped off his footplate. “This will merit a look  at the problem from the probable source.” 

James  did not argue with Rarity, irrespective of the fact what she had just  said made no sense at all, as he needed her to figure out what was  wrong. Rarity continued to fiddle with the brake pipe until she figured  out the problem. 

“Well, no wonder the brakes are on!” she said finally. 

“What’s the cause?” James asked. 

“The  pipes are leaking. One has a hole about the size of my index finger. It  must have been created when you were banging the coaches earlier, which  explains why the brakes have only just come on now.” Rarity was  surprisingly good at technical explanations. 

“Oops,” James relied. 

“Well,  I did warn you,” Rarity replied, disapprovingly. She then called the  guard up the train. “We need some way of repairing the braking system,”  she told him. 

“I  know of one old trick they used on the Great Western for this sort of  problem,” the guard explained. “They had leaking pipes, so they took  some old newspaper, and wrapped it around the leak to create a vacuum.  Then they tied the newspaper into place using an old bootlace, and that  held long enough for them to get to the next station.” 

“That  sounds like a marvellous idea!” Rarity said. She then called out.  “Attention passengers! You wouldn’t mind getting off the train for a  moment?” 

All  the doors opened and the passengers got out of the coaches, stepping  into the six foot between the two running lines. Once everybody was in  place, the guard began to explain. 

“We  have a leak in the pipes on the braking system,” he explained. “We need  some old newspaper and a leather bootlace. Can anybody spare those  items?” 

A  man handed over a newspaper, but another fellow, a Mr Jeremiah Jobling,  fidgeted nervously and hid his new boots as best he could. 

Rarity spotted this, and walked over to him. “Sir, you wouldn’t mind letting us borrow one of your bootlaces, would you?” 

“I won’t!” Jobling replied. “It’ll ruin my brand-new bootlaces!” 

All the passengers were in uproar over this. 

“Well,”  Rarity said sadly, “if we can’t have the leather bootlace, for the  short amount of time we need it for, the train will simply sit here for  always and always and always.” 

The  passengers then began to say what a bad railway it was, but then Rarity  reminded them of the fact that Jeremiah Jobling wouldn’t hand over the  bootlace. So, they all told him what a bad man he was. Everybody was  very cross. 

“Fine!” he exclaimed. “Here you go!” and he handed the bootlaces over. 

“That  wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rarity replied, and walked over to the leaking  pipes. She wrapped the newspaper tightly around the brake pipe, and  tied the newspaper in place using the bootlace. Once this most  unorthodox arrangement was completed, the brake pressure was restored to  a point that the train could be operated. Rarity hopped back onto  James’ footplate, and sounded the whistle, before reopening the  regulator. 

Upon arrival at Vicarstown,  Rarity undid the bootlace and handed both it and the newspaper back to  their previous owners, before uncoupling James and running him into a  siding to run back home to Tidmouth while the Vicarstown station pilot dealt with the coaches. 



The run back to Tidmouth  was tense. Rarity constantly checked behind her as they ran along the  line, and James said not a word, riding uneasily as they ran back down  the line. They stopped just outside the shed to let the turntable reset,  and James was backed over the turntable and into his berth. At which  point, Rarity jumped off his footplate and started to walk over the  gravel toward the parking lot, steam pouring from her ears. 

“Rarity!” James called. “I’m-” 

“Don’t  talk to me, you fiend!” she snapped back, the venom in her voice  silencing James. “I wanted to work with a proper, refined engine, not a  red monster!” At which point, she got in her car, slammed the door, and drove away. 

James’ mouth hung open in shock. “By Hughes,” he said. “I’ve really messed this one up.”
> Troublesome Trucks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

James  was feeling depressed. Several days together had passed since he had  last run, and in that time, he had not seen anything of Sir Toppham  Hatt, or Rarity. That last one was especially painful. The words she  had spoken still echoed through his smokebox, and cut especially deep. 

“Don’t talk to me, you fiend! I wanted to work with a proper, refined engine, not a red monster!” 



He hadn’t even been permitted to run in the yard to push coaches or trucks. 

“Oh  dear,” he said sadly. “I’ll be stuck in this shed for always and always  and always, and Rarity will never speak to me again. All because of  that hole in that blasted brake pipe, fixed with newspaper of all  things!” Tears began to roll out of his eyes as he was very sad indeed. 

But then, one day, Sir Toppham Hatt came by to see him. “Good morning James!” he said. 

“Morning sir,” James replied flatly. It most certainly wasn’t a good morning for him. 

“I hope,” Sir Toppham Hatt continued, “you have learned a lesson and will be a better engine from now on.” 

“Yes sir, I will,” James answered. 

“This bootlace incident has caused me a LOT of trouble,” Sir Toppham Hatt continued. “People are laughing at the railway, and that I am not prepared to tolerate.” 

“You  hardly need to rub it in sir,” said a familiar voice from behind him.  “James is quite sorry for what he did.” And then, Rarity stepped out  from beside the shed door and stood next to Sir Toppham Hatt. 

“RARITY?!” James exclaimed. He was surprised. 

“Yes  indeed,” Rarity replied. “I wish to...apologise for my remarks. I was  angry at the time, but it doesn’t excuse the way I behaved. It was most  unladylike to call you a ‘red monster’, after all.” 

Sir Toppham Hatt looked at her. “So that’s where that comes from,” he said finally. 

“What comes from?” asked James. 

“The trucks have been referring to a red monster for days,” he explained. “It made no sense until now.” 

James spoke again. “Rarity, I’m sorry over how I behaved. Do you forgive me?” 

Rarity nodded. “Yes James, I do. After all, friends are meant to forgive and forget. So, let’s put the past behind us.” 

James couldn’t agree more. 



“Now then,” Sir Toppham Hatt told them, when James had been warmed up and was ready to go. “I want you both to take a goods train to Wellsworth. It’ll be a tough run, but I know you can do it.” 

“We won’t let you down sir!” James exclaimed, and away they went to the yard. 

When  he got there, Thomas was just finishing moving the trucks into  position. “Hello James!” he said. “I just wanted to warn you these  trucks are unfitted, so that means no vacuum brakes.” 

“Just marvellous,” Rarity said, the tone of her voice indicating the exact opposite emotion. 

“On  the flip side,” Twilight said, chortling as she did so, “you won’t need  any leather bootlaces or newspaper.” And Thomas then sped away before  anyone could say anything else. 

James sighed. “I’m never going to live this one down.” 

Rarity  sighed as well. “Yes James. We’ll just have to do our best and live  with it.” She brought James forward onto the yard stop point, and then  backed him up onto the trucks. They impacted gently, and she then hopped  off his footplate in order to couple him up. 

The  trucks began shouting and shrieking when they saw James coupled to  them. “We want a proper engine, not a red monster!” they cried. 

“Quiet!” Rarity told them. “Or I’ll take my mascara to you!” 

The trucks were suddenly very silent. To be covered in Rarity’s mascara was an extremely serious threat, and so they complied. 

James waited for the guard to blow his whistle and wave his green flag, and then set off up the line to Wellsworth. 

“We  won’t go! We won’t go!” they cried, trying not to move. But James was  too powerful, and with the trucks only having manually operated brakes,  there was little they could do anyway. 

Even  so, the trucks continually tried to make James give up, but he fought  on regardless. Sometimes their brakes would slip on. Sometimes their  axles would run hot (these being old wagons, they lacked roller  bearings). Each time the issue had to be resolved by Rarity, either  through releasing the brakes or hitting the axles with a wheel tapping  hammer. Each time James simply continued, more determined than ever  before. “I will get this train to Wellsworth!” he cried in determination, as he started his ascent of Gordon’s Hill. 

The  one-in-seventy gradient soon began to wear him down, and he puffed  harder and harder as he ascended the hill, one of the steepest in  Britain. 

“Watch  out for trouble James,” Rarity warned him. “If what Twilight told me is  anything to go by, they’ll give us nonsense here. But we won’t let  them!” 

James  simply puffed harder still, and began to rocket up the climb. The  summit seemed further and further away. The suddenly, with a loud jerk  and a bang, it all became easier. “We’ve done it! WE’VE DONE IT!” James  cried, with a smile from buffer to buffer. 

Rarity  looked behind her, and slammed on the brakes, bringing James to a stop.  “No wonder it became easier,” she said. “The last four trucks detached  and are rolling back down the hill!” 



At the bottom of Gordon’s Hill, Edward and Applejack approached with a goods train when there was a loud whistle. 

Applejack  looked out of the cab and saw a man waving a red flag. “Stop, Edward!”  she cried, slamming on his brakes and shutting off steam. They, at long  last, came to a stop just in front if the brake van. 

“What happened here?” asked Edward. 

“Coupling  snapped,” the guard explained, “and the trucks rolled back down here.  James and Rarity are just coming back to pick them up.” 

James and Rarity then appeared and backed onto the trucks. The coupling was re-engaged, and they were soon ready to go. 

“Do ya want some help, sugarcube?” Applejack asked. 

“We’ll happily bank, if you want,” Edward offered. 

“No thank you!” James called. “I can do it myself.” 



The  sound of James on the hill echoed through the valleys with a thunderous  roar, every ounce of steam and power being put into moving the trucks. 

“C’mon  James! Keep it up!” Rarity cried, as they pulled forward toward the top  of the hill. Steam poured into the air from his funnel and cylinders  and they finally reached the top of Gordon’s Hill. 

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” James cried, as they rolled over the summit and down the other side. 

When he stopped at Wellsworth, Edward whistled. “Well done James!” he cried. 

“Now, that was incredible,” Applejack added, cheering James up immensely. 

Just then, James saw Sir Toppham Hatt. “Oh no!” he said. “I’m in trouble now!” 

But  he was smiling, and not cross in the slightest. “James,” he said, “I  saw everything from the brake van of Edward’s train, and I am proud to  say in all my years of running railways I have NEVER seen so spectacular  a display as that. You did a marvellous job keeping those trucks in  line, and as such you deserve to keep your red coat of paint. You and  Rarity may have the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it.” 

James couldn’t be happier. Truly had he redeemed himself.
> James and the Express
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon and Henry would not stop talking. Although James was now in the good books of Sir Toppham  Hatt, the other engines (barring Thomas and Edward) would talk of  nothing but bootlaces when they were given the chance. It was supremely  irritating, as Gordon went on about it yet again. 

“Remember the time they had to use one to get you out of trouble James?” they would ask mockingly. 

“Well,” James retaliated, “I believe you got shut up in tunnels or stuck on hills.” 

It  didn’t work, as Gordon simply went on. “You talk far too much James,”  he said pompously, completely failing to spot the irony. “A big engine  like me has plenty to talk about, rather than simply spouting large  quantities of hot air. Sir Toppham  Hatt thinks me important; it’s not a tough decision, though I have to  confess, it’s hard to find a better engine for the express!” 

“That’s the wrong era of the show, Gordon,” Henry told him. 

“Henry,  stop breaking the fourth wall!” Gordon snapped. “When I’m not around,  the express needs two engines. Think of that! I’ve pulled expresses for  decades, and not ONCE have I lost my way.” 

James  snickered. Being steam engines, they had no control over where they  went. That was determined entirely by the points. It seemed Gordon had  forgotten in his moment of pride. 



The  next morning, the engine crews arrived in order to ready the engines  for work. Plumes of smoke soon began to rise above the depot and through  the smoke hoods and the wonderful smell of Welsh anthracite flowed like  wine through the air. For any railway enthusiast, it was heavenly. This  was why Sodor was a popular tourist spot, being one of the last places  on earth to use steam engines in regular revenue earning service. 

Gordon  was still boasting. “Wake up James!” he boomed. “It’s nearly time for  the express. What are you doing? Odd jobs?” He stopped. “Well, we all  have to begin somewhere.” 

Just  then, the deck of the turntable moved into position, and Rarity opened  James’ regulator to get him to the yard to pick up the coaches. “Oh,  please spare me any more of his prideful babbling,” she said annoyed. 

The  coaches that had been allocated for the express had been freshly  repainted into a cream and green livery, and had been polished until you  could see your reflection in the paintwork. James gently backed them  into the platform and stopped slowly in order not to bump them. 

“We’re going away! We’re going away!” the coaches sang. 

“I  wish I was going as well,” James said sadly, as he thought of what  could be. “I wish I could pull the express and fly along the line.” He  was moved to a siding at the side of the station, whilst Gordon backed  down onto his coaches and came to a smooth stop. Whilst Gordon was being  coupled, Rainbow Dash pocked her head out of the cab and chatted with  Rarity. 

“So, how’s it been?” she asked. 

“Well,” Rarity replied, “we finally got those silly trucks in order, and I’m proud to say that they behave now.” 

“I heard about that,” Rainbow Dash added. “You two did a good job.” 

James smiled at the complement, before a loud whistle interrupted his thoughts. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt was on the express, and the guard’s whistle went. Rainbow Dash  pulled her head back into the cab, and opened the regulator. Gordon  rolled down the line, wheeshing and blowing steam, loud barks of steam and smoke roaring into the air and letting all know who was pulling the train. 

“See  you tomorrow James!” Gordon called, as he picked up speed and vanished  into the distance. James watched the entire way, and then sighed. 

“Well,  time to clear this yard,” he said, and set off. He started by moving  vans into the correct sidings, before collecting a rake of suburban  coaches for the next train, the all stations stopping service to Vicarstown. He backed these into platform 4. Knapford station had five platforms; three of these were through platforms, with trains being able to run nonstop to Tidmouth through them. The other two were bay platforms, in which trains terminated on their long journeys from far away. 



A  few hours later, a quiet puffing noise could be heard, of an engine  trying to move with minimal effort. Just in front of them, with a long  face and trying to enter the station from the Vicarstown end, was Gordon, who was trying desperately hard not to be spotted. He came to a stop and let off steam, sighing. 

“Hello Gordon!” called James. 

“Is it tomorrow?” Rarity asked. 

“No,” Gordon sighed. “It’s all wrong, I tell you.” 

Rainbow Dash decided to explain. “The signalman at Crovan’s Gate hadn’t read the diagram properly, and as a result sent us over the Ballahoo diversion line. We were then sent through the loop at Vicarstown and back here.” 

“That sounds awful,” Rarity replied. 

“Tell me about it!” Rainbow Dash replied. “It was NOT 20% cool in any sense or form.” 

Gordon moaned. “Oh, the indignity.” 



Sir Toppham  Hatt stepped off the train, rather annoyed. All the passengers had  swarmed toward the ticket office like angry bees. “WE WANT OUY MONEY  BACK!” shouted one. 

“THIS IS WORSE THAN SOUTHERN RAIL!” shouted another. 

“THIS IS A BAD RAILWAY!” cried one and all. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt jumped on a luggage trolley and blew a guards’ whistle. “Alright,  quieten down everyone,” he said. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but  we will find you another train and get you to your destination.” 

He went over to James. “According to Rainbow Dash, Gordon needs some maintenance. Could you do the run for us?” 

“Yes sir!” he cried. 

“Well, we’d be honoured sir,” Rarity replied. “I’ll have James at the front in ten seconds flat!” 

Rainbow  Dash growled in the cab. “Just get on with it,” she said, moving Gordon  off the train and into a siding. James, in the meantime, was coupled  onto the front of the express, and they set off in good time. 

“Come on, come on!” he called to the coaches. 

“You’re pulling us well, you’re pulling us well!” they replied, as they zoomed along the line toward the town of Vicarstown.  Bridges and station flashed by, the passengers cheered, and steam  poured from James’ funnel as he produced a wonderful sound of a  two-cylinder beat. They arrived on time, and everybody thanked James and  Rarity for a splendid run down the line. 

“Good work James!” said Sir Toppham Hatt. “Fancy taking the express a couple of times?” 

“Thank you sir! I won’t let you down sir!” James replied. 



Back at Tidmouth, Rarity and James ran in to see Gordon and Rainbow Dash shunting. 

“Hello!” Gordon called. “I’m teaching these trucks manners. You did a good job with those coaches, I hear?” 

“It’s a nice change of pace in the yard,” Rainbow Dash admitted. “A bit more relaxed, without any hustle and bustle.” 



Gordon  and James are now good friends. James sometimes takes the express so  Gordon can rest, and in return Gordon has remained quiet about bootlaces!
> Thomas and the Guard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello  again fellow readers! Since we last met Thomas, we had seen he had been  given his own branch line to run alongside Twilight. Since we are here,  let me tell you more about this branch line. 

Thomas’ branch line starts at Knapford Junction, before running out of town to Dryaw, and then to a two-track station at Ellsbridge via the unstaffed halt at Torywreck.  Then the line crosses out of town on a great viaduct, before winding  through cuttings and valleys, and over bridges, then through Hackenbeck, and finally into a great tunnel before the line terminates at Ffarquhar.  A short extension beyond there leads to a quarry, but this line is  seldom used, and as a result does not appear on any official maps. 

Thomas  is understandably proud of his branch line. He thinks that it is the  most important part of the whole railway network on Sodor. Twilight  agrees with him on this point, as do Annie and Clarabel, his coaches, a pair of old Midland Railway bogie coaches with no internal corridors (and by logical extension, no WCs!). 

Annie is a First-Class Coach, and as a such can only carry passengers, but Clarabel  is a Brake Coach, and as such can transport passengers, their luggage,  and the guard, who lives in the guard’s compartment at the back of the  train (or at the front, depending on what direction Thomas is  travelling, as the train can be operated as an Auto set, although this  is rarely done). They are both old, and in desperate need of new paint,  but Thomas loves them very much. 

As  they race up and down the branch line, they sing songs to one another.  Whenever Thomas starts from a station, he sings “Oh! Come along, we’re  rather late. Oh! Come along, we’re rather late.”  

The  coaches reply with “We’re coming along! We’re coming along!” They don’t  mind what Thomas or Twilight say to them, because they know that both  of them are simply trying to make Sir Toppham Hatt happy. Furthermore, they know if either Thomas or Twilight are cross, they aren’t cross with them. 



One  day, Thomas was waiting at the junction for Henry’s train. The  departure time had been and gone, and Thomas would have left by now were  it not for the fact he was a guaranteed connection, and therefore had  to wait. 

“How can I run my branch line properly if Henry and Fluttershy are always late?” he grumbled. “Do either of them understand that Sir Toppham Hatt depends on me?” And he whistled, annoyed. 

Twilight  looked over to him. “Look Thomas, I know it’s frustrating, but can you  please try to be patient?” she asked. “They don’t do this sort of thing  on purpose, and I imagine they’ll be here soon.” 

Just  then, a long, mournful whistle echoed through the valley, and Henry  appeared in the distance, running very slowly and leaking profusely from  his cylinders. He got slower and slower, and eventually ground to a  complete stop in the platform. 

“Where have you been, lazybones?” Thomas snapped. 

Fluttershy got out of the cab as Henry replied. “Oh dear! My system is out of order, and nobody (except Fluttershy) understands my case! You don’t know what I suffer.” 

Fluttershy crossed the tracks and spoke up. “He’s been steaming badly all day, and he does seem to be rather sad about something.” 

Given  what we know now, Thomas’ next remark seems particularly insensitive.  “Rubbish!” he snapped. “You’re too fat Henry, you need exercise, that’s  all.” 

Twilight was shocked. “Thomas!” she exclaimed. “That wasn’t a nice thing to say!” 

Thomas let off steam. “Just saying it how it is,” he replied. 



Fluttershy  went to the station master’s office whilst the guard for Thomas’ train  blew his whistle, and waved his green flag. He then went to board the  guard’s compartment, but on the way a lady with an umbrella got in his  way. Quite why she had an umbrella is unclear, but he tripped over it  and landed flat on his face with a bang. 

He  slowly pushed himself up. “Ow, that hurt,” he groaned. As he looked  around him, he suddenly saw Thomas and his coaches accelerating away  from him. 

“Stop!  Stop!” he shouted, running down the platform and waving his red flag.  But it was to no use at all. Thomas was too far away, and out of earshot  now. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ve got a long walk ahead of me. I could use the exercise.” 



Thomas  sped away through the countryside, unaware of the chaos taking place  behind him. “Come along! Come along!” he called to the coaches. 

Clarabel was most certainly not in the mood. “I’ve lost my nice guard, I’ve lost my nice guard,” she sobbed. 

Annie,  on the other hand, tried to get Twilight’s attention. “We haven’t a  guard, we haven’t a guard,” she called to Twilight. But the noise Thomas  was making and the wind distorted her words. 

“What  are they saying?” Thomas asked. It was unlikely he planned to stop, as  they were running behind timetable, and Thomas was determined to make up  any lost time he could. 

“Something about not having any lard,” Twilight replied. “I don’t think we have any lard to move!” 

“Where  is our guard, where is our guard?” the coaches cried. They had tried  applying their brakes, but they couldn’t without the guard. 



Just  ahead, a signal was at red due to a broken-down train in the section.  Twilight saw this, and applied Thomas’ brakes, bringing him to a stop  just before the signal. 

“Bother!” said Thomas, crossly. “What’s the matter? We’ll never make up the lost time now!” 

“I  don’t know,” Twilight replied. “I’ll go ask the guard.” She hopped out  of the cab and walked to the back of the train, climbing onto the coach  boarding rail and opening the guard’s compartment door. She gasped when  she saw it was completely empty! 

“Er, Thomas?” she asked. “We’ve got a bit of a problem here!” 

“Yes?” Thomas asked in return. “Where is the guard?” 

“He’s not here! He’s not in Clarabel or Annie!” 

“We left him behind, we left him behind!” Annie and Clarabel  sobbed. But just then, behind them the guard could be seen running down  the track, puffing and panting as he ran toward them. He was very hot,  and had a drink before speaking to the others, explaining all tjhat had happened. 

Thomas was very embarrased. “Sorry sir,” he said. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind.” 

“We did try to tell you Thomas,” said Annie pompously. 

“You just said something about lard!” Twilight replied. 

“Did we?” asked Clarabel. 

“Don’t  worry Thomas, it wasn’t your fault,” the guard laughed. Just then, the  signal arm dropped into the green position. “Look! The signal’s changed.  We can go now.” And he climbed aboard his coach, blowing his whistle  and waving his green flag before shutting the door. 

“C’mon Thomas!” Twilight called. “Let’s make up that lost time!” 

Thomas started off loudly, steam pouring from his cylinders and funnel. Annie and Clarabel were so delighted to have their guard back they sang out. “As fast as you like! As fast as you like!” 

And thet reached Ffarquhar 30 minutes early, which was a new record for the branch.
> Thomas goes Fishing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whenever  Thomas rolled along his branch line, he always looked out for something  special happening either at the stations or the lineside, as there was  always plenty to see and do. 

One of these places was Ellsbridge,  where, as the name implies, a bridge crosses over the River Ell. As  Thomas rolled across the bridge, he noticed some people with long poles  sitting next to the river, waving them every now and then, or winding a  strange contraption. 

“What are they doing Twilight?” he asked. 

“They’re  fishing Thomas,” Twilight replied. “Those long poles are called fishing  rods, and have a special item called bait attached to them. When a fish  grabs onto the bait, the person using the rod, or a fisherman, reels it  in and they have their catch! Though, as these people are doing it for  fun, they throw the fish back afterwards. Now come on Thomas, we can’t  afford to be late, can we? Whatever would Sir Toppham Hatt say?” 

Thomas wanted to stay and watch, but there was never enough time to do so. Even so, the process fascinated him. 

Later  that day, he encountered James and Rarity at the junction. He whistled  to them, cheerfully. “Hello!” he called. “I was thinking of giving  fishing a try!” 

There was a brief moment of silence, before both James and Rarity burst out laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Thomas asked, confused. 

“Don’t be so silly Thomas!” Rarity chortled. “Engines don’t go fishing!” 

James  followed up the sentiment. “Yeah. For a start, how on earth would you  operate a fishing rod? It’s not as if you have arms!” 

“Well,”  Thomas replied. “Twilight could operate the fishing rod for me.  Besides, I think you’re just a silly stick in the mud!” And he raced  away before anybody could say anything else. 



The thought nothing more of it for a few days, until a problem at Knapford  Junction forced necessity to be the mother of invention. Due to  careless maintenance by the local gas and water board, a water main had  burst, cutting off all water to the station. This, in turn, meant that  the water tower was empty, and a large notice was hung on it reading  ‘OUT OF ORDER’. 

“’OUT OF ORDER’?” Thomas asked. “Bother! I’m thirsty and my tanks are nearly empty!”’ 

Twilight  then had an idea. “Let’s get water from the river!” she cried,  releasing Thomas’ brakes and opening his regulator. “I’ve got just the  thing to get the water from the river into your tanks.” 

They sped along the line, aware of the low water levels, and after the stop at Ellsbridge, Twilight carefully positioned Thomas in the centre of the bridge, before getting off his footplate and taking out a bucket. 

This  bucket was very old-older than Granny Smith, some claimed (though never  to her face). It was worse for wear, and had five holes in it. This  meant that Twilight had to pull it up as fast as she could, empty it  into Thomas’ tanks, and then repeat the process several times. 

“There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza!” the guard joked. 

“Never mind about Liza!” Twilight replied. She then began to sing herself: 



“Sometimes it's nice to take some time out  

Do what you really want to do.  

Just to relax and let the world fly by you.  

Forget your worries, no need to hurry.  

Just leave a sign to say...” 



At this point, both Thomas and the Guard joined in with the harmony part. 



“Gone fishing, gone fishing.  

It's a sunny old day and you're on your way  

Gone fishing.  

Gone fishing, Gone fishing.  

It's a sunny old day and you're on your way.  

Why don't we all go fishing?” 



“There's nothing better on a sunny day  

When all your work is done.  

Throw down your line, settle down.  

Surprise, surprise, look what you've found...” 



“Gone fishing, gone fishing.  

It's a sunny old day and you're on your way  

Gone fishing.  

Gone fishing, Gone fishing.  

It's a sunny old day and you're on your way.  

Why don't we all go fishing?” 



“It's a sunny old day and you're on your way...  

Gone fishing!” 



When they had finished singing, Thomas’ tanks were full, and they could continue with their journey down the line. Annie and Clarabel rolled happily behind him, but it wasn’t long before they began to run into trouble. 

Thomas’  boiler suddenly began to ache badly, which soon changed to a raging  agony. Twilight consulted the pressure gauge in concern as the safety  valve triggered. 

“Steam  pressure is rising too quickly!” she cried. “If we don’t get the amount  of steam in the boiler down, we’re risking an explosion!” 

“I’d rather not explode!” Thomas answered. “It would make a bit of a mess!” 

Twilight  cracked open the injector to try and increase the amount of water in  the boiler. But no water came through from the tanks. “Great!” she said.  “We’ve got a jammed injector!” 

They  rolled slowly down the line, Thomas’ safety valve full open and his  cylinder cocks blowing steam to try and reduce the amount of steam in  the boiler. “I’ve got such a pain, I’ve got such a pain,” he groaned. 

They stopped just outside Ffarquahr  at the end of the line and uncoupled Thomas, who was hissing  uncontrollably and seemed to be on the verge of exploding. His boiler  pressure was dangerously high, coming close to exceeding recommended  operating pressure. 

Twilight  parked Thomas on a nearby siding, and found two stop boards that could  usually be found in the quarry. They read ‘DANGER! KEEP AWAY!’ 

The  passengers looked on from the platform with a mixture of horror and  amazement. The guard telephoned for both the engine inspector and Sir Toppham Hatt, both of whom arrived a few minutes later. 

“What seems to be the problem?” the engine inspector asked. 

“Well  sir,” Twilight explained, “the injector doesn’t seem to be working  properly. The one on the right-hand side of the cab won’t pump water as  something is blocking it, and the one on the left-hand side of the cab  has been working overtime to keep pressure down.” 

“Ah!” said the engine inspector. “The feed pipe is blocked! I’ll take a look and clear it in a jiffy!” 

He  climbed up on a ladder and took a look in the tank, and then nearly  fell off the ladder in surprise. “Sorry to bother you Sir Toppham Hatt,” he said, “but you wouldn’t mind looking in the tank for me?” 

“No problem,” Sir Toppham Hatt replied, and peered in. What he saw shocked him too. 

“Inspector,” he asked, “do you see...fish?” 



Thomas’ facial expression changed to one of shock as a loud chord sounded in the background. 

“FISH?” Twilight asked. “Of course! We must have picked it up when we picked up water from the river!” 

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. “Well, that explains a lot. Somebody want to fish it out?” 

It took them several minutes of adjusting fishing rods, with Sir Toppham  Hatt directing of course, but at long last they got all the fish. Even  though their being in Thomas’ tanks had cooked them in advance, they  still made sure to cook them again, and having sourced a good supply of  chips (or fries, as Twilight kept calling them, much to everyone's  confusion), they had a wonderful fish and chip supper. Except Thomas of  course, who was still rather embarrassed over the entire thing. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt wiped his mouth. “That WAS good!” he exclaimed. But then he looked  sternly at Thomas and Twilight. “But fish don’t suit you Thomas, so you  mustn’t do it again.” 

“Yes sir,” said Thomas. “Engines don’t go fishing, it’s too uncomfortable!”
> Thomas, Terence, and the Snow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Autumn  was approaching on the Island of Sodor. The fields were slowly changing  from green to varying shades of brown, and the leaves were starting to  fall off of the trees, leading to the national joke of leaves on the  line rearing its ugly head once more. 

One  day, Thomas and Twilight stopped at a red signal, and saw a most  unusual site sitting there in a neighbouring field. It was a road  machine, that was painted orange, and had a long bonnet, at the end of  which sat a face mounted atop the grill. It had sideboards, and an open  cab, and was covered in orange cladding. However, it had no wheels at  all, instead a series of long rubber things. 

“Hello!” said the road machine. “My name is Terence.” 

“Hello Terence!” called Twilight. “Do you mind if I ask what you are?” 

“He’s  a Caterpillar Model 70 tractor,” replied the driver. Only now was the  attention of Thomas and Twilight drawn to the driver. He was a young man  with light pink skin and orange hair, and a pair of green eyes. He was  very big and very strong, and was wearing red and white trainers, a pair  of blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a red jacket on top of that. “Mind  if Ah ask yer name?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Twilight nodded. “Twilight Sparkle. My real name is Twyla but almost everybody I know calls me Twilight.” 

The young man nodded. “Mah name’s James MacIntosh, but almost everybody refers ta me as Big Mac. Ah believe ya know mah sister Applejack?” 

Thomas  whistled. “Of course! She’s Edward’s driver!” He then looked over.  “Thomas. Thomas the Tank Engine. I’m a London, Brighton and South Coast  Railway E2 class tank engine.” He then looked at Terence. “What great  ugly wheels you've got.” 

Twilight  had no idea how Thomas could so easily veer from polite to rude in the  space of a short conversation. But Terence simply took it in his stride.  “They’re not ugly,” he said. “They’re called caterpillar tracks. I can  go anywhere without needing rails like you.” 

“I  don’t want to go anywhere, thank you,” Thomas said. “I like my rails,  thank you very much.” And he puffed away as the signal had changed. 

Terence watched them go. “Shall we get back to work?” he asked. 

“Eeyup.” 



A few weeks passed, and autumn turned to winter as snow began to settle, with ominous dark clouds covering everything. 

“I don’t like this Thomas,” Twilight said, worried. “They’re forecasting a heavy fall, and I want to be ready.” 

“When  are the weather forecasters right?” Thomas laughed. “Besides, the silly  soft stuff can’t stop me in any way. I’ll just bash my way through it  and make it to the other side.” 

By the time they had got to Ffarquhar,  the snow had settled even more, and the countryside was covered in the  stuff. It was no longer safe to proceed without any form of protection,  and cars already had winter tires fitted, as well as wheel chains to  help grip the grit on the roads. 

Twilight got out of Thomas’s cab, and went over to a group of workmen. “Can you help me fit Thomas’ snowplough?” she asked. 

“Sure thing!” the workers replied, and went over to help. But Thomas looked horrified. 

“Surely you can’t expect me to use that thing! The snow won’t stop me!” he exclaimed. 

“You’re wearing the snowplough and that is final,” Twilight told him. “And stop calling me Shirley!” 



Thomas  had no intention of keeping that snowplough on, as it was hot, heavy,  and uncomfortable. So, he shook it and banged it as he rolled along, and  by the time they reached Tidmouth sheds it was in such poor shape it had to be removed and hammered back into shape. 

As if to add insult to injury for Twilight, there was no snow on the track. 

“Honestly Thomas!” she snapped. “Why can’t you behave?” 

“There wasn’t any snow,” Thomas snapped back, “so wearing the snowplough was completely pointless!” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Twilight answered, and slammed the shed doors with a bang. 



The  next morning, they were no closer to fixing the snowplough, and it  couldn’t be used. Twilight came extra early, but even she couldn’t fix  it in the time, and so they had to go without it. Thomas was beside  himself with glee. 

“I shan’t have to wear it, I shan't have to wear it!” he said happily. 

Annie and Clarabel,  not surprisingly, did not share Thomas’ sense of optimism. “I hope it’s  alright, I hope it’s alright!” they said to each other, concerned. 

Twilight was worried too, as the train pulled out of Knapford Junction. “The snow is OK here, but the cutting will be bad, I’m willing to bet,” she said. 

Thomas  ignored her. “Silly soft stuff!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t need that  stupid snowplough yesterday, and I shan’t need it today. Snow can’t stop  me!” As they flew along the line, all seemed OK, and they reached the  tunnel before Ffarquhar station. As Thomas went in, Twilight switched on his front lights, and they could see clearly. But trouble lay ahead. 

“SNOWDRIFT!”  Twilight cried, and slammed Thomas’ brakes on. But to no avail. Thomas  crashed into the snowdrift and stalled, his wheels spinning furiously in  place as he tried to dislodge himself. 

“I’m stuck!” he cried. 

“Back  Thomas, back!” Twilight exclaimed. Thomas’ wheel spun, but he was  jammed solid in the snowdrift and couldn’t extricate himself from the  mass of silly soft stuff. 

The  guard went for help whilst the passengers got shovels, and tried to dig  Thomas out. But it was no use, as the snow simply piled up even further  when they moved it away. Thomas was completely buried. 

“What a mess!” he said sadly. “I’m going to be stuck here forever. Oh, why does life have to be so ironic?” 

“Now where have I heard that before?” asked Twilight. 



A red bus came by to rescue the passengers, but then a cry came down the tunnel. “Do ya need a hand?” 

And sure enough, who should appear but Terence and Big Mac! 

“Looks like you’ve got yourself in a bit of a pickle Thomas!” Terence said. “Never mind, we’ll have you out in no time.” 

Using  some chains, which he had borrowed from the local farmer, Big Mac  hooked up Terence to the coaches, and then proceeded to drive Terence  away, towing the coaches away from Thomas and back to the other side of  the tunnel. 

Then  he came back for Thomas, whose wheels were still stuck in the snow.  Terence was hooked up, and he slipped and tugged and tugged and slipped  (or was it the other way around?), and at last pulled Thomas clear of  the snow, ready for his journey home. 

Terence then backed out through the tunnel, so that Thomas could resume his journey to Tidmouth. Thomas ran back and coupled up to Annie and Clarabel. 

“Terence, thanks for saving me,” said Thomas. “Those caterpillar tracks are splendid.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Terence replied. “I live on Sweet Apple Acres in Alresburgh if you ever want to call by.” 

“There’s no railway line there,” Big Mac pointed out. 

“Well, the Apples can always go and see Thomas then! Terence answered. 

“I hope you’ll behave now,” Twilighr said sternly. 

“I will,” Thomas replied, and puffed away.
> Thomas and Bertie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Thomas and Twilight were waiting at Knapford  Junction. Suddenly, a bus pulled up in the parking lot and stopped next  to both of them. The bus was red, and had an extended engine unit on  one side, right in front of the driver. It was streamlined, and had many  bench seats for the passengers to sit in. 

“Hello!” the bus said, sounding its horn. “You must be Thomas!” 

Just  then, the window dropped, showing the driver. He was a young chap,  younger than Twilight even. He had purple skin and green hair, with a  pair of green eyes to match. He was wearing purple shoes, a pair of blue  slacks, a green shirt, and a purple hoodie. He smiled. “Hi Twilight!”  he called, in a high-pitched voice. 

“Hello!” Twilight replied. “May I ask your name?” 

“I’m Spike,” he replied. “Spike Spencer.” Upon seeing the look of confusion, he quickly added, “not that Spike Spencer.” 

“Who are you?” Thomas asked, risking the entire conversation going around in circles. Thankfully, it didn’t. 

“My  name is Albert, but feel free to call me Bertie,” the bus replied. “I’m  an Associated Equipment Company Regal T bus, originally built for  London Country. When they replaced us with diesel buses, I came here for  Sodor Roadways, and have been used here ever since. Say, I rescued your  passengers from that snowdrift a little while back, didn’t I? Terence  did a great job of rescuing you and your coaches, but I’m here to help  you with your passengers today.” 

Thomas snorted. “Help me? I can go faster than you.” 

“Can’t!” Bertie retorted. 

“Can!” Thomas replied. 

“CAN’T!” 

“CAN!” 

“CAN’T!” 

“CAN!” 

“Stop arguing, please,” Twilight asked. 

“We’ll race then, and settle it that way,” Spike suggested. 

This  race was agreed to, and the station master positioned himself with a  green flag. “Ready? Set? GO!” And he swung the flag down as he did so.  Bertie roared out of the parking lot whilst Thomas shot forward down the  branch line, determined to win this race as best he could. 

Bertie  had the higher acceleration than Thomas, and as a result drew ahead  early in the race. Thomas picked up speed slowly, and lagged behind as  he did so. Twilight kept a close eye on his fuel and water, and also  closely monitored the speedometer, as she was worried about breaking the  speed limit. 

“How will we know where he is?” she asked Thomas. “The road runs nowhere near here at the moment.” 

“But it will soon,” Thomas smiled. 

“Why don’t you go fast? Why don’t you go fast?” asked Annie and Clarabel, as they rocked and shook on the tracks. 

Thomas just laughed. Although Bertie was a long way ahead of them, he had remembered something that the other had not. 



Just before Torywreck,  there is a level crossing. Under railway regulations, road traffic must  always wait for trains to cross before resuming their journeys, a fact  that some motorists would do well to remember, instead of ramming  coaches on Welsh railway lines or jumping crossing barriers. 

And  sure enough, at this crossing, Bertie sat there fuming. Thomas simply  sailed over. “Goodbye Bertie! Goodbye Spike!” he called, as he sailed  away. 

The second the gates opened, Spike put Bertie into first gear, and floored the accelerator-before jamming the gears. 

“Ouch!” Bertie exclaimed. “I’m not a synchromesh bus, remember?” 

“Sorry!” Spike replied. 

The  road left the railway once more, so neither Thomas nor Bertie had any  idea where the other was. Thomas roared down the track, and had to drop  off passengers at Ellsbridge according to the timetable. 

“Be quick please!” Twilight called. 

Luckily, the passengers were, and they were underway again in next to no time. “Come along! Come along!” he called to Annie and Clarabel. 

“We’re  coming along! We’re coming along!” the cried. Just then, Thomas saw  something that shocked him. There was Bertie, as he flew over a bridge,  sounding his horn triumphantly. 

“Oh, deary me! Oh, deary me!” he cried, as he flew along the line to the best of his ability. But he was starting to worry. 

“Don’t worry Thomas, we’ll beat him!” Twilight cried. “just you wait and see!” 

“We’ll beat Bertie yet! We’ll beat Bertie yet!” the coaches added triumphantly. 



But just ahead, trouble was waiting. 

“Oh no!” cried Thomas. “There’s a station!” and he rolled into Hackenbeck as the signal was red and he couldn’t proceed. 

“Hello Thomas!” shouted a familiar voice. He looked over to see it was Bertie. “You just be very tired, but I can’t stop. We buses have to work, you know! Goodbye!” and he raced away into the distance. 

“See you later!” Spike called. 

Thomas sighed. “We’ve lost,” he said sadly. 

“We haven’t yet,” said Twilight, as she filled his tanks. “The last stretch into Ffarquhar  has high speed limits of 50 miles an hour, and a steep gradient down  into the station. If we can use those to our advantage, we may just beat  him.” 

“Hurrah!” cried Thomas. 



Just  then, the signal dropped, and Thomas got off on his way as fast as his  wheels could carry him. But as they got underway, they heard a loud  beeping. There, sure enough, was Bertie, held at the traffic lights  which were showing a red aspect. 

“Looks like were not the only ones who have to wait!” Thomas called, laughing. 

The  light changed, and Bertie started with a roar, thundering down the road  and racing after Thomas as fast as he could. Thomas was now going at  top speed, straight downhill, and Bertie roared as much as he could. But  no matter what he did, he just couldn’t keep up with the tank engine,  who thundered down the grade and through the tunnel. Bertie rolled over  the hill and came down the other side, rocketing down it at incredible  speeds and almost catching up to Thomas. 

But Thomas rolled to a safe stop in Ffarquhar station. “I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he exclaimed. 

“We’ve  done it, hooray! We’ve done it, hooray!” cheered the coaches, as Bertie  screeched to a halt. Everyone celebrated Thomas’ victory, but welcomed  Bertie as well, as a well-deserved runner-up. 

Spike wound down the window. “Now that was a good race,” he said. “Congratulations on a good win, Twilight.” 

“Thanks!” Twilight replied. 

Bertie  smiled. “You know Thomas,” he said. “In order to beat you over that  last hill, I’d have needed wings like an aeroplane. But that was a good  race. We should do this more often!” 

Thomas  and Bertie are good friends, and often help each other out on busy  days. But they have never raced again, as apparently higher-ups don’t particularly like it.
> Henry and the Elephant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon and Henry found Tidmouth yard to be a very lonely place after Thomas and Twilight left to run the Ffarquhar branch line. They missed them very much. 

“Henry,” Gordon commented, “I didn’t think this possible, but I actually miss hearing Thomas talking non-stop about seeing the world.” 

“You’re not the only one,” Henry admitted. “Now it’s just us two, as well as Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. Oh, how the times have changed.” 



And changed they had. Now that Tidmouth and Knapford  lacked a station pilot, the engines had to collect their own coaches  and shunt the yards by themselves, which made them very cross. 

“It’s  too early!” Gordon grumbled, as the London and North Eastern Railway A0  Pacific shunted backwards and forwards. “I used to get a rest in in the  old days when Thomas was around!” 

“Gordon, please be quiet!” Rainbow Dash told him. “You’re worse than a College student most days!” 

Gordon  wasn’t the only engine who was grumbling in the yard, as James had also  been requisitioned for shunting the yards in addition to doing  everything else. He was equally cross. “How can Sir Toppham  Hatt expect us all to do our own jobs and clean these messes up at the  same time?” he complained. “It’s completely unreasonable, that’s what!” 

Rarity sighed. “Jamesy,  I share your frustrations Darling, but these coaches and trucks aren’t  simply going to shunt themselves, so we might as well do our jobs as  well as we can.” 

“We get no rest! We get no rest!” complained one and all. 

The  coaches laughed at the big engines. “You’re lazy and slack! You’re lazy  and slack!” they laughed. Rainbow Dash, however, took particular  offence to this. 

“Can you please stop goading the engines?” she asked. “At this rate you’ll only make the problem worse!” 

All in all, the issues piling up in the yard were causing Sir Toppham  Hatt a lot of bother. Another morning, James was being sent off to  collect a train from somewhere or other, whilst Henry and Gordon were to  remain in the shed. 

As  James rolled onto the turntable, he spoke rudely to Henry. “What’s the  matter Henry?” he asked. “There’s no rain today. Stop worrying and do  some hard work for a change!” And he blasted away. 

Henry  looked around. “That hurt my feelings!” he said. “Besides, I’m not  scared of the rain anymore. If anything, he looks silly and he should be  in a circus!” 

Fluttershy  stepped over calmly. “Take it easy Henry,” she said. “I’ll speak to  James and ask him to apologise. Besides, I’m certain Rarity will talk to  him about it as well, as that’s not acceptable behaviour.” 

That, at least, made Henry feel much better. But then Gordon spoke up. 

“Have any of you heard that the Circus is arriving?” he asked, quietly. 

“Er...say what now?” Rainbow Dash asked, confused. 

“The  circus, of course!” Gordon said pompously. “According to gossip I’ve  heard at the various stations, it has already arrived at Tidmouth, and an engine will go and collect it to take it to Knapford.” 

“Well,” Henry replied, “that would explain where James has gone. The clown.” 



The  train was very long, and had plank wagons, vans of all sizes, many,  many animals, jugglers, trapeze artists, clowns, elephants, lions,  tigers, zebras, horses, and almost every exotic animal on the planet  that anybody could name. The cheery feeling that having the Circus on  the island brought meant that the engines soon forgot to complain, as  they had work to do ensuring all the wagons were in the right place and  the right people and animals were offloaded at the right times. 

But  the Circus couldn’t stay forever, and had to head back eventually. And  who got to take it back but James! Henry and Gordon were simply  grumbling all over again, although Rainbow Dash did derive some  amusement from the fact that the circus was apparently owned by a  relative of Sir Toppham Hatt. 

A few hours later, Sir Toppham Hatt himself came by to speak to Henry and Fluttershy. 

“We have a blockage in Ballahoo  Tunnel,” he said to them. “I need both of you to take some wagons and  some workmen down the line to the tunnel, and clear it out. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” Fluttershy replied, and sounded Henry’s whistle. Henry pulled away spitting steam and producing a wonderful sound. 

“I  hope I don’t get stuck in that tunnel again,” Henry said sadly. “It  would be most embarrassing to get stuck there once again. Not to mention  unpleasant!” 



“Pushing trucks, pushing trucks,” he grumbled loudly to nobody but himself. “Doesn’t Sir Toppham Hatt realise it’s dangerous for engines to push trains this distance?” 

“But Thomas pushes his coaches sometimes,” Fluttershy observed, confused. 

“That’s  different!” Henry said. “He’s a tank engine, with a short wheelbase. I  am a tender engine, with a long wheelbase that doesn’t go well around  tight bends.” 

Quite  apart from the ongoing conversation, the workmen got out of the brake  van and then unloaded their tools from the equipment storage van. With  an array of wooden planks, keying hammers, and wrenches, they vanished  off into the tunnel to clear whatever was blocking it. It fell very  quiet, and very dark. Nobody had any idea what was happening in there,  not least Henry. But then, a loud horn like noise echoed out of the  tunnel, and moments later, the workmen all ran out shouting and  screaming in terror. “It’s alive!” one of them cried. 

“What’s alive?” asked the foreman. 

“The blockage!” another workman cried. “We tried digging at it, but then it hooted at us and began to move!” 

“Rubbish!” the foreman snapped. “Henry, get to work. Remove that blockage!” 

“What?”  Henry asked. “I’ve been stuck in tunnels before, and I’d rather not get  stuck in there again-it is the same tunnel portal, after all-especially  if something alive is in there!” 

Fluttershy  could tell Henry was worried, and so tried to calm him. “It’s OK  Henry,” she said soothingly. “If that blockage is alive, we’ll just back  out and give it some space. And you won’t be going into that tunnel  alone. I’ll be here with you, all the way.” 

Henry wheezed sadly. “OK Fluttershy,”  he said. “I’ll do it, for you.” And he advanced into the tunnel, steam  pouring from his pistons and his wheels rolling. Into the tunnel he  went-and then stopped. His wheels spun furiously as whatever it was  fought back, and began to push both him and his train out of the tunnel.  Fluttershy wound the reverser forward to try and counteract, but it failed, and the bog green engine and the train were both shoved out of the tunnel by an elephant. 

“Oh my,” Fluttershy said. “He must have been left behind from the circus.” She got out of the cab and walked over to the clearly angry elephant. 

“Stay away!” the foreman called to her. “The beast is clearly crazed!” 

Fluttershy just ignored him, and walked over to the elephant. “Hey big guy,” she asked. “Are you OK?” 

The elephant made noise at her, but Fluttershy  knew exactly what to do. “Hey, it’s OK,” she said. “We’ll get you back  to your family, but they’re at the docks. We’ll put on a special train  for you. How does that sound?” 

And with that, the elephant was calmed down. “Incredible!” said a workman. 

Fluttershy  turned to the assembled workers. “Harry here asks for some water, if  that’s OK.” So, they brought some buckets filled with water, which the  elephant downed effortlessly without needing a break. 

But  just then, Henry’s safety valve went off, scaring the elephant, which  made noise once more and blew water all over Henry’s paint. 

“My paint!” he cried, annoyed. “An elephant pushes me, now has the nerve to whoosh me!” 

“Don’t worry Henry, the water will evaporate, that’s all,” Fluttershy reminded him. 



Henry relayed his experience that night to the others, who were most sympathetic. 

“Fancy that!” Gordon exclaimed. “We get no respect around here.” 

“It seems something must be done,” James added. And on that note, they went to sleep.
> Tenders and Turntables
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The  stations at both ends of the North Western Main Line both have  turntables. These are long things that can take a full-length tender  engine. They are used to turn these locomotives around at the start or  end of their long journeys, as it is not safe for a tender engine to run  backwards at high speeds due to the weight both in front and behind  them. 

A  tank engine, such as Thomas, doesn’t need a turntable, as he lacks a  tender and has a short enough wheelbase to be able to run backwards  safely, although admittedly this leads to a few problems as it renders  him unable to see where he is going. Hence, Clarabel is often used as a spotter when Thomas is running in reverse, to warn him about oncoming obstructions so he can take action accordingly. 

But  if you were to listen to Gordon, you would think he was given a tender  to show how important he was. One day, Gordon was boasting at the  junction, with an equally jittery Rainbow Dash at the controls, as they  were running somewhat behind schedule and had been held behind a slow  goods train. Thomas and Twilight were sitting in a neighbouring  platform, forced to listen to their constant talk. 

“You  don’t appear to understand Thomas,” Gordon huffed. “We tender engines  have an important position to keep up. It doesn’t matter so much where  you go, but we are important.” 

“Don't we all know it,” Twilight complained, most sick of Gordon’s endless ramblings. 

But Gordon continued, completely oblivious to Twilight’s protests. “And for Sir Toppham Hatt to make us fetch coaches, shunt trucks, and go on some of those rickety old branch lines-well, it’s-it’s not the proper thing, if you understand what I mean!” 

Just  then, the signal dropped. “Finally!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “That  goods train is out of the way. Let's go, we’ve wasted enough time  already!” 

Gordon whistled, and set off on his journey to Vicarstown. Thomas simply laughed and set off shortly after. 

When Gordon got to Vicarstown,  he was uncoupled from his train and rumbled onto the turntable. “How  disgraceful,” Gordon grumbled. “Fancy that Thomas not understanding our  importance!” 

“Gordon,”  Rainbow Dash said, “I may be awesome, but I am prepared to show at  least a LITTLE humility. That would be good for you too.” 

Gordon  was having other issues, so paid no attention. The wind was fierce on  the turntable, and he couldn’t get into place on it correctly, as due to  his weight and length, he would throw it off balance if he was in the  slightest of wrong positions. After many minutes of reversing backwards and forwards, it became clear that it wasn’t working, so they gave up. 

“Whatever happened?” Gordon asked. 

“The  strong winds and your weight are interfering with the turntable  mechanism,” Rainbow Dash explained. “I can’t turn it due to you being in  the wrong position the entire time, which is making it impossible to  move it. If you were a tank engine, then it would be alright, but then  again, we wouldn’t be using a turntable if you were. Looks like we’re  running the next train tender first.” 

Gordon was most humiliated on his return trip to Knapford.  Due to the timetable, he had to stop everywhere, and the tender first  running meant that he had to run at a reduced speed of only 40 miles an  hour, which was causing delays to start stacking up all over the island. 

Worst still, some boys at Knapford Junction took the opportunity to be rude to Gordon. “Look, it’s a new tank engine!” a boy cried. 

“It’s only Gordon running tender first,” said another. “Besides, who builds a tank engine with a 4-6-2 wheel arrangement?” 

“The Great Central Railway used the A5 tank engines,” added a third. “They were 4-6-2s.” 

“Odd,” finished the first. “2-6-4 is more common.” 

“Come along you three!” laughed a man on the platform. “We need to get you three home or your parents will worry.” 

“Yes Mr Dalby!” the three boys said, and they left the platform. 

Gordon sighed. “Well, that was humiliating,” he said. 

“Tell me about it,” Rainbow Dash replied. 



Just  then, another whistle sounded, and Thomas rumbled into the platform,  running with his coaches behind him as a push-pull set. 

“Hello!”  called Thomas. “Playing tank engines? Sensible thing to do, I say. Tell  you what, take my advice and scrap your tender, get a bunker for a  change.” 

Gordon  was cross. “Thomas,” he snapped. “I’ve had quite enough mockery for  today, and you are just rubbing it in. So, would you PLEASE just be  quiet?” 

Just then, James raced through with a semi fast working to Vicarstown, and laughed when he saw Gordon’s predicament. 

“Take care!” Gordon shouted. 

“You may get stuck too!” Rainbow Dash added. 

“Nonsense!” Rarity replied. “A pairing as fabulous as us would never get stuck.” 

“Indeed!” James added. “I’m not as fat as Gordon!” 



James  was rolled onto the turntable, and Rarity got off to operate the  turntable, which seemed to be working given that he had stopped in the  right place. Rarity began to turn the hand crank, but then the wind  picked up. 

The  turntable began to spin faster and faster. Much too fast for James.  Rarity held on for dear life as the turntable flew round and round and  incredible speeds. 

“STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!” cried James. 

“I am going to be sick!” Rarity cried, as they zoomed round and round like an out of control spinning top. 

Eventually, the turntable stopped, and James came to a halt facing the right way. “That was different,” he said. 

Rarity  took some time to answer, partly due to her lunch being in the  turntable pit. “I think my bottom’s on backwards,” she said in  confusion. 

But then, who should appear but Gordon and Rainbow Dash, who had seen everything. 

“Well, well, well,” Gordon laughed. “Have you been listening to Dead or Alive?” 

“Perfect!” Rainbow Dash said. 

“What have you done?” asked Rarity. 

“Oh, c’mon, you two are an internet sensation!” Rainbow Dash replied. “Just check YouTube!” 

Rarity  did, and saw, to her horror that the video trending the most hits was  called ‘TURNTABLE FAIL’. Clicking on it, she saw it was footage of them  spinning round and round on the turntable, with the chorus from an old  disco song looped endlessly; 



“You spin me right round, baby 
Right round like a record, baby 
Right round round round. 
You spin me right round, baby 
Right round like a record, baby 
Right round round round.” 



James sighed. “I’m never going to be allowed to forget this, am I?” he sighed, green in the face, and backed into the shed. 

That evening, the engines had a conversation. “I am proud to open this indigestion meeting,” Henry said. 

“Indignation meeting,” James corrected. 

“Are you some sort of rolling dictionary?” Gordon asked. 

Anyway, we’ve all been humiliated,” Henry said grumpily. “I get whooshed by an elephant.” 

“And I get spun on a turntable and mocked on YouTube,” James added. 

“And I have to run backwards!” Gordon exclaimed. “Oh, the indignity.” 

“And we all have to shunt trucks,” James added. “In dirty sidings, no less.” 

Gordon whispered something to the others. “It is settled,” he said. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
> Trouble in the Shed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very next morning, there was a massive crowd of people on the platform at Knapford station. They were all shouting and making a racket, indicating some sort of displeasure. This noise was heard in Sir Toppham Hatt’s office, and he wondered what in the world was going on. “Why are they grumbling again?” he complained. 

Just then, the station master came in. “I’m sorry sir,” he said. “But there’s been some sort of disturbance.” 

“I can hear that,” Sir Toppham Hatt said, as he glanced over the timetable again. “But WHAT is causing this disturbance?” 

“Some  sort of issue at the shed,” the station master replied. “Henry is  sulking, there’s no train, and the passengers are saying this is a bad  railway.” 

“Well they’ve clearly never tried Southern rail,” Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. “Oh well, I’ll sort this nonsense out. We can’t have this problem again.” 



He arrived at the shed to find Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity all standing at the lineside, not at their engines. 

“What are you three doing here?” he asked. “Come along, the train is due.” 

Fluttershy looked at Sir Toppham Hatt. “We tried that sir,” she said, “but these three won’t let us onto their footplates.” 

“Henry’s  not going anywhere,” Gordon said importantly. “As a matter of fact,  none of us are. We WON’T shunt like common tank engines, in those dirty  sidings for those dirty trucks. That was Thomas’ job. But we are tender  engines, and as such do not collect our coaches. You get an engine to  collect our coaches, and we shall pull them. But until then, we are  staying put exactly where we are. Tender engines don’t shunt!” 

“Oh, really?” Sir Toppham Hatt said, with an air of sarcasm in his voice. “Engines on MY railway do as THEY are told.” And he walked away. 

“Well, until they fire you for poor performance!” James said. 

“And what would happen to you then?” Fluttershy asked. “You’d probably end up on some preserved line somewhere, or even worse-scrapped!” 

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Not cool Gordon, not cool.” 

Rarity  looked sad. “Not even I would be so shallow James!” she snapped.  “Although there was that dress in my shop that needed finishing.” And  she walked away to her car. 



Meanwhile, Sir Toppham Hatt drove down to Wellsworth.  The incident weighed heavily on his mind. “The yard has never been the  same since Thomas left,” he said sadly to himself. “Since he went to his  branch line it has become quite an unpleasant working environment. I  may need another engine at this rate.” 

When he pulled into the station car park, he could see Edward and Applejack shunting trucks into the goods sidings. 

“Leave those trucks please!” he called to them. Applejack poked her head out of Edward’s cab and spoke out. 

“What’s happenin’ over at Tidmouth?” she asked. It was very rare that Sir Toppham Hatt came over to Wellsworth, as he was normally too busy. So, something was clearly wrong. 

“The other tender engines are refusing to pull trains unless an engine fetches their coaches for them,” Sir Toppham Hatt explained. “So, I want you two to work at the yard at Tidmouth and get the coaches into place.” 

“Yes  sir!” Edward called, and backed away almost immediately. He soon got to  work assembling the trains, and the other tender engines were  successfully coaxed into working as somebody else had fetched their  coaches for them. Apart from minor timetable delays at the beginning of  the day, the trains ran on time, and it seemed that the strike was over. 

But the strike wasn’t over. It had only just begun. 



The next morning, Edward came to a stop at the Tidmouth cattle dock, as Sir Toppham Hatt came over to speak to him. “Hello Edward!” he said. “What’s up? You look very glum.” 

Applejack took her hat off, a sign that she was sad. “Some of the other engines have been givin’ us some nonsense, sir,” she said. “It’s mighty distractin’ and Eddie and me could do without it.” 

“What sort of nonsense?” Sir Toppham Hatt asked. 

Just then, Gordon rolled by, hissing rudely at him. 

“Sorry!” Rainbow Dash called. 

“That’s the sort of thing,” Edward said. 

“What a noise!” Sir Toppham Hatt exclaimed. 

“Ya see sir,” Applejack continued, “they seem ta think he’s some sorta traitor ta his kind, with their ‘tender engines don’t shunt’ nonsense. Now Ah can tell ya sir, family and loyalty are two thin’s are value highly. And not only is Eddie no traitor, he’s one of the hardest workers Ah’ve ever known. In fact, he’s an honorary member of the Smith family as of now.” 

“Thank  you!” Edward said happily. But his face fell. “Last night James claimed  I had black wheels. It’s actually rather funny, coming from James, but  that’s not the point!” 

“Indeed,” Sir Toppham  Hatt said. “Tender engines DO shunt, but at the same time we do need  another engine. I’ll head over to Barrow Hill on the mainland to see if I  can acquire one for the railway.” 



At Barrow Hill Roundhouse, in Chesterfield, Derbyshire, many engines were lined up around the turntable. As Sir Toppham Hatt walked around, he saw an engine that particularly interested him. 

The  engine was a small 0-4-0 saddle tank, painted green with red stripes.  He vaguely resembled a Great Western Railway 1340 Trojan class engine,  albeit with a bunker from a 1361 class locomotive, and a wrap-around  saddle tank of a design Sir Toppham Hatt had never seen before. “Hello!” he said. “What’s your name?” 

“My name is Percy, sir!” he said. “I came here a little while back, with my driver Pinkie Pie.” 

“Who?” Sir Toppham Hatt asked. 

“SUPRISE!”  cried a voice in his ear, and before he could react, a girl suddenly  popped into view, hanging down from the ceiling before landing the  correct way up on the ground, next to Percy. 

The  girl had pink skin and hair, as well as a pair of blue eyes. She wore  blue boots, a pair of blue shorts with a balloon pattern on the right  leg, and a white shirt with pink sleeves and collar. Even as they spoke,  she was bouncing up and down. 

“Steady on!” Sir Toppham Hatt called. “You gave me a fright. What’s your name?” 

“I’m Philomena Petricia  Diane Julie Pie!” she replied. “But almost everybody calls me Pinkie  Pie.” She then produced a gigantic cupcake out of her hair, covered in  gold frostings. “Want a cupcake?” 

“I think I’ll save it for afternoon tea,” Sir Toppham Hatt replied. “Pinkie, would you and Percy want to come and work on my railway on Sodor?” 

“Yes sir!” Percy replied. “I’ll do my best!” 

“Yes indeedally!” Pinkie replied. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt shook his head, and hopped onto his footplate as the turntable  reset. “Just one thing, Percy,” he asked. “What precisely are you?” 

“I  get asked that a lot sir,” Percy replied. “I was originally built by  Avonside as a conventional saddle tank, but I’ve been rebuilt so often  that I’ve got bits from about 20 different manufacturers, including this  custom saddle tank.” 



Just as they arrived at Tidmouth, Sir Toppham Hatt called over to Edward. “Edward!” he called. “Meet Percy and Pinkie Pie. They’re here to help in the yard.” 

“Hello Percy! Hello Pinkie!” Edward and Applejack chorused. 

“Will you show him how to do things?” Sir Toppham Hatt asked. 

“We’ll be honoured sir,” Applejack said. 



Without too much effort, Percy soon knew what had to be done, and they had the yard cleaned up in next to no time. 

But then trouble came in the form of Henry, who attempted to exit the yard. But Percy just wheeshed him, and away Henry went to the shed. 

Applejack laughed. “Good job, you two! Old bossy wheels needs ta be put in his place!” 

“I say,” Edward asked, “how do you wheesh so wonderfully?” 

“It’s a secret,” Pinkie Pie said knowingly, touching the bridge of her nose. 



The  next morning, Thomas and Twilight arrived. “Hello!” Thomas said. “I  expect there’s some sort of trouble on the line if I’m needed.” 

Twilight looked over. “Who’s the new engine?” she asked. 

“I’m Percy!” said Percy. “Nice to meet you, miss-” 

“Twilight. Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight looked into Percy’s cab. “Who’s the girl in your cab?” 

“INCOMING!” Suddenly, Pinkie Pie appeared in Thomas’ cab, startling Twilight, who jumped back. 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

“I’m Pinkie Pie, nice to meet you.” Pinkie extended her hand, and the two became friends. 

“Shh!” Edward hissed. “Sir Toppham Hatt’s here. I wonder what’s going on?” 

“Good morning all!” said Sir Toppham  Hatt. “I presume you heard that Henry, Gordon, and James are refusing  to work on the grounds that there is no station pilot. Well, I’ve told Fluttershy,  Rainbow Dash, and Rarity to take the day off so that they’ll be stuck  in the shed. In the meantime, I want Edward and Thomas to work the main  line, whilst Percy is to work the branch line. Everybody understand?” 

“Yes sir!” they chorused. 

Thomas was worried at first about Annie and Clarabel,  but Twilight assured him they were OK. Thomas soon had no reason to  worry when he saw how well Percy was handling them on the branch. There  were fewer trains, but the passengers didn’t mind, as they knew the big  engines were being taught a lesson, and as such didn’t care much for the  disruption. 

On  the topic of those three, they were cold, lonely, miserable, and  annoyed. Annoyed that their plan had been blown out of the water, but  also feeling mighty silly. It seemed as if they would be there forever, without their drivers or friends.
> Percy runs Away
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several  days had passed. Henry, Gordon, and James all sat in the shed, as they  had done since the beginning of the week. They hadn’t run in a while,  but they really had nobody to blame but themselves. If they had just  swallowed their pride, the entire incident would have been avoided. Even  so, they wanted to head out again and pull trains. 

Eventually, Sir Toppham  Hatt arrived. “I hope you are all sorry and understand you are not more  important than any other engine on this line,” he said. “We have a new  driver named Pinkie Pie, operating a tank engine called Percy. Thomas  and Edward, alongside their drivers, have done a splendid job of running  the main line. I will let you out if you promise to be good.” 

“Yes sir!” Gordon said, enthused. The other two agreed with him. 

“Good,” Sir Toppham Hatt said. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy  and Rarity all boarded their respective engines and lit their fires,  and when they had apologised to them, they set off to start their days.  Sir Toppham Hatt then spoke to Edward, Thomas and Percy together. 

“You  three,” he said, “have done a splendid job of running the railway the  last week. As a result, I am letting you three have a few days off on  the branch line with your engine crews. I hope you all have fun.” 

“I’ll get Annie and Clarabel!” Thomas said, whizzing off as he did so. 

“Fancy getting some trucks?” Edward asked, moving off. 

“Scoot yer boot Eddie!” Applejack called, as they went to the sidings. 

Percy chose to join Edward, and played with some trucks. He had such fun banging them into each other. 

“Stop!  Stop! Stop!” they cried, as they slammed into one another. Before long  the two engines had the entire yard set into its proper place, and  Thomas headed off to Knapford Junction to work a passenger train. Annie and Clarabel  were relieved to see Thomas again to say the least, and the day ran  smoothly as Edward headed off for the quarry to collect some china clay. 

Percy  was left alone in the yard, but he and Pinkie didn’t mind too much, as  they watched the other trains go by, and played tricks on them. 

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he called to Henry as he passed on a semi fast. 

“Don’t stop in a tunnel!” called Pinkie Pie, laughing. She had heard all about that one from Fluttershy. 

“Oh, the indignity,” Henry moaned. 

“That’s my line!” Gordon boomed, as he flew past on an express working. 



Later that day, Percy delivered some trucks to Wellsworth  sidings, which was awkward as he had to cross over the main line in  order to access it and run wrong line briefly. He pulled up at the  signal box and waited for the signalman to change the points to let him  onto the down line. 

“Well, the signalman seems to be in no hurry,” Pinkie Pie said, flatly. 

“Maybe  he’s forgotten I’m here,” Percy suggested. This was a most unhelpful  thing to say. He was being very careless, which was understandable given  he had worked on collieries and in factories for most of his life.  Edward had advised him to alert the signalman to tell him he was there,  but Percy had forgotten to do so, and as a result the signalman wasn’t  aware of him. This problem was compounded by the fact the track circuit  had failed, and as a result the interlocking had stopped working. You  can probably guess where this is going. 



Percy  sat there for a while. The points were still set against him, and as a  result he couldn’t move from his current position. Out of boredom, he  looked along the line, and what he saw horrified him. 

“Peep peep!” he cried. “Pinkie, look out!” 

Pinkie Pie looked along the line and gasped. “Veggie salad, VEGGIE SALAD!” she cried. 

“What?” Percy asked, then remembered that Pinkie Pie was just being Pinkie Pie. 

But true danger lay ahead. For, rushing toward them at full main line speed, was Gordon with the express! 

Rainbow Dash looked out of Gordon’s cab, and gasped. “What the?” she said, and slammed the brakes on. “What is that idiot doing?” 

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Gordon bellowed. But Percy was frozen to the spot in fright, and didn’t. 

Rainbow  Dash continued to loudly sound the whistle, and Gordon continued to  slow down, but it wasn’t enough. Percy shut his eyes in horror. 

When  he reopened them, he saw Gordon had stopped just in time. He was  glaring at Percy, a look of absolute fury on his face. “What do you  think you were doing, you blithering idiot?” he snapped. “You nearly  caused an accident! Just wait until Sir Toppham Hatt hears of this!” 

But  Percy’s wheels had already begun to move. Pinkie Pie had bailed in case  a crash occurred, but somehow had knocked the regulator which caused  Percy to speed off. “I won’t stay here!” he cried. “I’ll run away!” 

He shot away, through the platform at Wellsworth,  and straight up Gordon’s Hill, over it, and down the other side at  terrifying speed. He wanted to stop, but because Pinkie Pie wasn’t on  the footplate, he couldn’t stop. “I want to stop, I want to stop!” he  panted, to absolutely no avail as he could not. 

He rolled through Marron platforms, and was going slower now. “I want to stop, I want to stop!” he panted  once more. Luckily, a signalman spotted him and changed the points,  allowing him to run off the main line and into a siding. There, he hit a  bank of earth, and stopped at last. 

“I want to stop, I want to stop! I have stopped!” he said, sounding very surprised. 

“Don’t worry,” said a nearby workman. “We’ll dig you out, give you some coal and water, and you’ll be all better again.” 

Just then, Gordon came by whistling, and stopped in the platform to let Pinkie Pie off. “Percy!” she cried. “You’re OK!” 

“Thanks to this sandbank,” Percy admitted. 

Pinkie suddenly looked cross. “Don’t scare me like that again, OK?” she asked. 

“I promise,” Percy replied. 

“Pinkie promise?” 

“Pinkie promise.” 

Gordon laughed. “Good work Percy, you started so quickly it prevented a nasty accident.” 

“Sorry for being cheecky,” Percy said at last. 

“Hey, no biggie,” Rainbow Daah replied, as she hooked up some rope. And sure enough, they pulled Percy out of the bank. 

Percy  is still cheeky because he is that sort of engine, and Pinkie  is...well, Pinkie. But he always most careful when he goes on the main line from now on.
> Coal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I suffer dreadfully, and nobody cares.” 

“Rubbish!”  snapped James. “You don’t work hard enough, that’s what. Try turning a  wheel for once, that ought to help you.” And he steamed away in a rush. 

Poor  Henry did suffer dreadfully, and indeed few people, if anybody, cared  at all. Some days Henry could pull trains. But others he had no strength  at all. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt spoke to him as well, and his words didn’t exactly inspire  confidence. “Henry, you’re too expensive,” he said one morning. “We’ve  replaced most of your parts at least once, and you’ve been freshly  repainted, but it seems to have done you no good at all. If we can’t  repair you and make you work properly, we will need to get another  engine to replace you.” 

This made Henry and Fluttershy very worried, and that was saying something, as Fluttershy was worried most of the time. “Oh no,” she whispered. “They’ll scrap him if we can’t make him better!” 



That same morning, Fluttershy backed Henry down onto his train, and noticed that Sir Toppham  Hatt was waiting on the platform. He was dressed differently to normal,  as he had traded his top hat and tails for a boiler suit. 

“I’ll watch in the cab and see how Henry performs,” he said, climbing aboard. Fluttershy gestured to the fireman’s seat and waited for him to settle down. 

Henry started successfully, but struggled to maintain speed on the line, and Fluttershy was able to explain why. 

“Henry seems to have some sort of issue with the fire temperature,” she explained to Sir Toppham Hatt. “This causes him to steam badly and for his fire to not give off enough heat.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt nodded, most concerned at this news. If one of his own engines  steamed badly, it meant reduced reliability, and that was something he  wanted to avoid if it was at all possible. 

The  problem got worse as Henry went along, until it was very clear that  Henry could go no further. He had slowed to a crawl when he got to Wellsworth,  and eventually ground to a halt in the platform. The fact this was a  scheduled stop was lucky, as otherwise it could have led to all sorts of  problems. Fluttershy  went down to uncouple Henry, and then proceeded to move him off of the  train and into a nearby siding, where he wheezed pathetically. “Oh  dear,” he thought. “I shall be sent away for this, and I shouldn’t want  that. Who will stay with Fluttershy?” 

Edward was moved into position and took the train onwards to Vicarstown, the original destination, whilst Sir Toppham Hatt and Fluttershy discussed the matter of Henry. “Excuse me Fluttershy,” asked Sir Toppham Hatt, “but what do you think is causing the issue.” 

Fluttershy,  having put on a glove to prevent her hand getting dirty, bent down and  picked up a lump of coal. “I believe sir,” she began, showing it to him,  “that the coal is causing the problem. We’ve had a bad lot of coal in  recent months, and it’s only been getting worse as time has gone on. The  other engines such as Gordon can cope as they have large fireboxes that  can burn more or less anything. Henry’s is smaller, and as a result  cannot cope with poor quality coal. If we were to use Welsh Coal, I  believe he’d be a different engine.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt seemed surprised. “Given how few mines are left in Wales, it’s an  extremely expensive option. But I do feel that Henry deserves a proper  chance to show what he can do. I shall dispatch James to fetch some from  Barrow in Furness as soon as some comes into stock, and we shall see  what effect it has.” 

Henry didn’t look at all convinced. But what would happen in the next few days would cheer him up noticeably. 



One  day later, the special coal arrived. The coal was in a mix of big and  small lumps, with lots of smaller pieces to support the big ones. Safe  to say, Fluttershy was looking forward to seeing if it worked in Henry’s firebox. 

“Now we’ll show them,” she smiled. Henry simply grinned in return. 

The first thing Fluttershy  did was pile the coal, putting the large lumps like a wall around the  outside of the firebox. She then covered the glowing part in the middle  with the smaller lumps. 

“You’re spoiling my fire!” Henry complained. 

Fluttershy  smiled. “Just you wait and see Henry, just you wait and see. We’ll have  a roaring fire just when we want it.” She then opened the regulator to  move Henry out of the yard, and what a sight it was, Henry producing  steam and rolling forward majestically. He was sent around to collect  his coaches, and then ran into the platform, steam shooting from his  cylinders and running from his funnel. 

When Henry stopped in the platform, Fluttershy opened his cylinder cocks in order to let the excess steam out of the cylinders. 

“How are you Henry?” asked Sir Toppham Hatt, emerging from his office. 

“I feel fine sir,” Henry replied. “In fact, I haven’t steamed this well in years, or possibly ever.” 

“Is there a good fire Fluttershy?” Sir Toppham Hatt asked. 

“Yes sir,” she said. “Never had one better, I think, and we’ve got plenty of steam.” 

“No record breaking, you hear me?” Sir Toppham Hatt asked again. “Don’t push Henry too hard.” 

Fluttershy laughed. “Oh no sir. I think I may have to hold Henry back!” 



Just  then, the guard’s whistle went, and they had to go. Henry roared along  the line, steaming like never before and running more efficiently than  he ever had on his record for the North Western Railway. He raced  through stations, and under bridges, and through tunnels, all the while  people were turning out to see what was going on. 

“It’s Gordon!” cried a schoolboy. “It has to be! No other engine goes that fast!” 

“Gordon isn’t green!” said another. “That’s Henry!” 

“But it can’t be Henry!” the first said again. “Henry cannot go that fast!” 



But indeed, it was Henry, who wanted to go faster, but Fluttershy wouldn’t let him. 

“Steady on Henry,” she said, “there’s plenty of time yet.” 

So, Henry did, and he came to a stop at Knapford Junction right on time, just as Thomas rolled into the platform. 

“Where  have you been lazybones?” asked Henry, firing Thomas’ words back at  him. “Oh, I can’t wait for dawdling tank engines like you, goodbye!” And  before Thomas could say anything, Henry roared away into the distance,  vanishing out of sight very quickly. 

Thomas just looked confused. “What just happened?” he asked. “Have you ever seen anything like it, Twilight?” 

Twilight had to admit that she had not.
> The Flying Kipper
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One winter evening, Fluttershy spoke to Henry about an upcoming task. “We’ll need to keep you in steam,” she explained, “as we’ll be out early tomorrow.” 

“Why is that?” Henry asked. His first working of the day was usually the 09:00 from Knapford to Vicarstown and return. 

“We’ve got to take the Flying Kipper,” Fluttershy explained. “Don’t tell anyone, especially Gordon, but if we pull the Flying Kipper well, Sir Toppham Hatt will let us pull the express; that special coal we gave you is working very well.” 

Henry smiled as he took all of this on board. “Hurrah!” he cried. “That will be good.” 



All kinds of ships use the harbour at Tidmouth,  the big station by the sea. There are passenger ships, cargo ships, and  fishing boats also call here. They unload their fish onto the quay, and  some of it goes to shops in the towns of Sodor. The rest is taken to Vicarstown and over the bridge to places far, far away. This is the train the railwaymen call ‘The Flying Kipper’. 

Henry and Fluttershy were ready at 05:00 in the morning. Therre was snow and frost, but the sky was clear, and there was no fog, so visilbility was clear up ahead. Fluttershy  shivered in the cab despite her warm winter clothing, and ran all the  final checks as she hooked Henry up. Unlike most trains, the Flying  Kipper was operated entirely using 12 ton fitted shock vans, as the  train was operated at much higher speeds than most freight workings.  Express freight was slowly becoming more common, but until the time came  that all the unfitted stock was replaced, express fright was going to  be the exception, rather than the norm. 

Men  hustled and shouted loading the vans with crates of fish. The last door  banged, and the guard showed his green lamp that shone through the  gloom like a beacon of hope for the engine crew. The Flying Kipper was  ready to go. 

Fluttershy  slid open Henry’s regulator, but as she did Henry’s wheels caught an  icy patch on the rails, and this, combined with the heavy weight of his  train, caused his wheels to spin furiously, until Fluttershy closed the regulator and let the wheels stop revolving. Once this had happened, she reopened the regulstor much more gently, and the train slowly got underway, a combination of the heavy load and tight curves of Tidmouth Harbour. 

“C’mon, c’mon, don’t be silly, don’t be silly!” Henry called to the vans. 

The vans shuddered and groaned. “Trock, trick, trock, trick, all right, all right!” as cried as they rumbled along the rails and out of the harbour proper. 

At long, long last, they were cleared into the main line to Vicarstown, and Fluttershy  opened up Henry’s regulator, a satisfying two cylinder beat echoing  along the main line as he sped along with his train of vans. He rolled  along, the rising sun barely visible against the backdrop of hills and  towns, producing a wonderful lighting effect as he rolled along the  line. Clouds of smoke and steam poured from his funnel into the air,  being produced in large quantities due to the cold air, and the light  from his fire shone brightly in the early morning light. 

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” called Henry to the trucks. 

Fluttershy simply smiled as she looked ahead. “You’re doing a great job Henry; keep it up!” she said. 

They  flew through stations and under bridges at speed, but very few people  (mostly die-hard railway enthusiasts and people who had the misfortune  of working at such antisocial hours) were actually there to see them  through the stations at this time. The light slowly grew better, and the  signals shone green the entire way, due to this time of year being very  quiet and this worked out as a lack of traffic on the line, especially  at this hour. 

Suddenly, a yellow signal was visible ahead of them. Fluttershy applied Henry’s brakes in anticipation. 

“That must mean the signal ahead is at red,” she said to herself. “Alright Henry, prepare to stop!” 

However, the signal up ahead showed a green light, which meant the line was clear. “OK Henry, full speed ahead!” Fluttershy  called, as they accelerated away. But they couldn’t have known that the  points from the mainline to a siding had frozen in place, and the  signal should have been set to red, or ‘danger’! However, snow had  forced it down in such a way it was now displaying a green aspect. They  were headed for disaster. 



Another  goods train was waiting in the sidings to let the Flying Kipper pass on  its way. Only then could it resume its journey. To pass the time, the  driver, fireman, and guard were all sitting in the guard’s van, drinking  cocoa and playing cards. 

“The kipper is due!” said the driver, rising from his seat. 

“Who cares?” said the fireman. “This is good cocoa!” 

The driver spoke up again, and prepared to leave the brake van. “C’mon, back to our engine,” he said to the fireman. 

They got out just in time. 



Henry  realised something was wrong when he suddenly lurched to the right and  onto a siding. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the goods train and  the brake van rushing toward him out of the darkness. 

“Fluttershy!” he called. “Jump!” 

“What?” she asked, then looked out of the cab and screamed. 

“Jump!” Henry shouted again. “Jump! We’re going to crash!” 

Fluttershy hesitated, and then bailed from Henry’s cab, rolling into the snow, which luckily saved her from having a nasty accident. 

Henry  wasn’t so lucky. With nobody at the controls, he had no way of  stopping. He smashed into the brake van, and reduced it to matchwood. He  then was thrown into the air, rode over the top of the frames of the  brake van, and then fell off of one side and landed in a snow bank. 

That was the last he saw before he blacked out. 



The next morning, the noise of cranes was what stirred him awake. In front of him was an angry man, holding a mug of cocoa. 

“That’s the best mug of cocoa I’ve ever brewed, and then you spoil it by crashing into my brake van!” he snapped. 

Just then, Fluttershy  walked over and shouted at him. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about  than your stupid cocoa! Somebody could have been hurt or killed! Even  worse, Henry may have to be sr- scra- scrap-” she couldn’t get the last word out, and simply collapsed in a sobbing fit. 

“Scrapped?” Henry finished. “Fluttershy, if it comes to that, remember I’ve had a long life, and it was all worth it, especially working with you.” 

To  say the least, Henry was in a mess. His boiler was dented, much of his  motion had come loose, and he generally looked a mess. There was little  to rebuild, frankly. 

Sir Toppham Hatt’s car pulled up at the crash, and he got out to see the issue. 

“Please sir!” Fluttershy begged. “Don’t scrap him! The crash wasn’t his fault!” 

“The signal was in the down position, sir,” Henry added. 

“Cheer up Henry, it wasn’t your fault,” Sir Toppham  Hatt told him. “Ice and snow caused that crash; the point rodding froze  and bent, and then snow forced the signal arm down.” He paused. “I have  an idea to resolve your problems once and for all.” 

“What is that?” Fluttershy asked. 

“I’ve  been in contact with a place called Crewe, in Cheshire. It’s home to a  small locomotive works, and they’ve got some space at the moment. I’ve  arranged for you to be rebuilt into an LMS Black 5, with a stronger  boiler and a much larger firebox. That way, you won’t need special coal  anymore. How does that sound?” 

“Yes sir, that will be good,” Henry said doubtfully. 



Henry  enjoyed his time at Crewe alongside the engines of the Heritage Centre,  but eventually it was time for him to come home. And what a sight he  was to see, resplendent in green once more as he flew along the line,  with a larger, much sturdier chassis, a tapered boiler and Belpaire firebox, and a larger tender to hold more coal and water. People shouted and cheered as he flew past, not least Fluttershy, who was simply relieved that the big green engine was back. 

I  am sorry to say that many schoolboys are late to school because they  wait to see Henry pass by. Henry is often used on the express now, and  apparently does it better than Gordon-just don’t tell anyone I said  that!
> Gordon's Whistle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon  was cross, as he seemed to be most days. “Why should Henry get rebuilt  into a completely different class?” he grumbled loudly. “A rebuild that  is good for him is good enough for me. He goes gallivanting off to  Crewe, and leaves us to do his work, and then comes back and says how  happy he feels! It’s disgraceful!” 

The  other engines said nothing, mainly because nobody ever listened to  Gordon’s rants. But nonetheless, he went on, talking endlessly about  things he knew little about. “And there’s another thing; Henry whistles  too much. No respectable engine ever whistles loudly at stations. It  isn’t wrong, but we just don’t do it.” 

Poor  Henry didn’t feel happy anymore, and simply looked at the rails sadly.  So, Percy decided to try and cheer him up. “Don’t worry Henry,” he said.  “Don’t let what Gordon says bother you. I think your whistle is  magnificent, and I think we are all glad you are home again.” 

Sure  enough, Rainbow Dash came along and opened up Gordon’s regulator. “Come  on Gordon,” she said, “that’s enough talking. We’ve got work to do.” 

Gordon  whistled triumphantly, and pulled away. “Goodbye Henry!” he boomed  importantly. “We are glad you are with us again, but do remember what I  said about whistling in stations, mainly the not to do it part.” 

Fluttershy, who had just arrived to take Henry for a run, shook her head. “Honestly,” she said, “does he ever shut up?” 



Henry felt a bit better when he arrived at Wellsworth with his passenger train. Edward and Applejack were waiting there, and took the opportunity to catch up. 

“Hello  Henry!” said Edward. “It’s lovely to see you again. You look splendid. I  was happy to hear your whistle echoing through the valleys yesterday.  Tell me, did they fit you with a Stanier hooter whilst at Crewe?” 

“A what now?” Applejack asked. 

“A  hooter is a special type of whistle,” Edward explained, “that produces a  deeper note and a louder noise. It is well suited to alerting  passengers and engine crew that a train is about to depart.” 

“If ya say so,” Applejack replied. “How’s Henry been handlin’ fer ya, Fluttershy?” 

"He’s been great,” Fluttershy answered. “In fact, I’ve never known him better. How’s life on the farm?” 

“Same old, same old,” Applejack replied. “Big Mac still helps out Farmer Finney most weekends, and Ah work here. Mah little sis wants to work here as well, but we ain’t got enough engines ta justify that just yet.” 

“A shame,” Fluttershy  said. “If she’s anything like you or your brother, we’d need an extra  pair of hands. Speaking of which, I’ve never actually been to your farm.  Can you go by train?” 

“Nah,” Applejack replied. “Arlesburgh lost its rail connection back in the 1930s. Ya need ta drive there, which is a mighty nuisance as the roads are bad.” 

“Shhh!” hissed Edward. “Can you hear that?” 



In  the distance, was the faint sound of a chime whistle echoing through  the hills and down Gordon’s Hill. It was progressively getting louder  and louder as time went on. 

“It sounds like a whistle!” said Fluttershy. 

“But who’s whistle?” Edward asked. 

Applejack listened intently. “Sounds like Gordon’s whistle, Eddie.” 

“It  does sound like Gordon, and indeed it ought to be Gordon.” Henry was  speaking slowly as he processed this, a big grin spreading across his  face. “But surely Gordon wouldn’t whistle like that...would he?” 



Sure  enough, a big blue object coupled to several coaches appeared in the  distance. The noise got louder as it approached, and the object soon  became clear. 

It  WAS Gordon! He came racing down the line at an incredible speed, his  whistle valve stuck open and his face purple from all the exertion, or  embarrassment, it wasn’t at all clear. He didn’t look at Henry and Fluttershy, and he didn’t look at Applejack and Edward either. He just screamed through the station and vanished into the distance! 

Henry laughed. “Well, well,” he said. “This is ironic.” 

“What do ya mean?” Applejack asked, as she hadn’t been there when Gordon had been busy ranting. 

Henry  smiled. “Gordon claimed that an engine shouldn’t whistle at a station,  as it was not the proper thing to do in such a case. However, there he  was racing through a station with his whistle on. ‘It isn’t proper, but  we just don’t do it’!” 

And with that, the four of them broke out into fits of laughter. 



Gordon  screeched along the line, with Rainbow Dash trying to plug her ears and  drive at the same time. The noise was truly awful as he raced along.  People on the lineside were recording Gordon’s apparent predicament, air  raid sirens from the Second World War were triggered, people were  knocked out of bed (though why they were asleep was unclear, as it was  mid-day), and the fire brigade even set out on call as they thought the  station whistle had triggered. 

Gordon eventually rolled into Knapford station, his whistle blowing loudly, people covering their ears as they heard the chimes echo out about the station. Sir Toppham Hatt came over to the cab and shouted to Rainbow Dash. “TAKE HIM AWAY, AND STOP THAT NOISE!” 

“SORRY?” Rainbow Dash shouted back. “I CAN’T HEAR A WORD YOU’RE SAYING GORDON’S WHISTLE IS TOO LOUD!” 

“I SAID, TAKE HIM AWAY, AND STOP THAT NOISE!” Sir Toppham Hatt boomed at the top of his voice, only ever so slightly louder than Gordon’s whistle. “EVERYBODY WILL GO DEAF AT THIS RATE!” 

“YOU THINK THIS IS BAD?” Rainbow Dash shouted back. “I’VE HAD THIS IN MY EARS SINCE MARRON STATION!” 

“JUST MOVE THE ENGINE ALREADY!” Sir Toppham Hatt answered. Rainbow Dash uncoupled Gordon, and moved him off to Tidmouth  sheds, where she acquired a set of ear defenders and a hammer. She then  spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hammer Gordon’s whistle valve  back into shape, though she had made sure to drop his fire and let him  cool down first, as crawling around on top of a locomotive with a lit  fire that was producing steam would be a foolish move at best. But  eventually, she got it back into shape and the whistle stopped. 

Rainbow Dash stabled Gordon in the shed, and then headed home. Gordon was glad it was empty-or so he thought. 

“It isn’t wrong,” said a voice nearby, “but we just don’t do it!” 

Gordon simmered with anger, planning how he would get his own back.
> Percy and the Trousers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It  was a cold winter’s morning on the Island of Sodor, and the wind was  bitter, whistling through the air with reckless abandon. The ground was  hard as well, but one constant that could be heard was Thomas and Percy  grumbling whilst Twilight and Pinkie Pie tried to keep themselves warm. 

“All I want is my fire lighting quicker!” Thomas exclaimed. “It’s cold, and I’m cold. It takes so long to warm an engine up!” 

“The cold woke us up early, that’s all,” Percy said. “Nothing to it, really.” 

The cold air continued to blow and whirl around, blowing snow onto the two engines as it did so. 

“How about we talk about something else?” suggested Percy. 

“I  know!” Pinkie Pie cried. “Why not sun and summer?” Just then, she  launched into an impromptu musical number, complete with music coming  from nowhere; 



“Come on everybody smile, smile, smile! 

Fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine; 

All I really need's a smile, smile, smile, 

From these happy friends of mine!” 



“Thank you, Pinkie,” said Thomas, “but I still think we’ll look ridiculous when our funnels become icicles.” 

“They  won't become icicles because that’s scientifically impossible,”  Twilight replied. “Icicles, as the name suggests, are made of ice, which  is frozen water. Funnels, on the other hand, are made of metal, so it  won’t become an icicle.” 

“It was a figure of speech,” Thomas sighed. 

“Besides,  talking about it won’t be productive,” Percy sighed. “I’m with Pinkie here; why not talk about warm things like summer sun, and steam, and-” 

“Firelighters,” Thomas sighed. 

Twilight  gave him a glare. “Thomas, I have already lit your fire, and  complaining about it is not going to make it heat up faster. Now please  change the subject.” 

“Scarves!” Percy suddenly exclaimed, quite out of character with the conversation that had just passed. 

“Scarves?” asked Pinkie Pie. 

“Scarves?” asked Twilight. 

“Scarves?” asked Thomas. “That's what you need Percy; a nice woolly scarf around your smokebox!” 

Percy  didn’t realise that Thomas was joking, and so thought happily about  that topic until his boiler had raised enough steam pressure that he  could get on his way. And that scard occupied most of his thoughts from then on. 



Meanwhile, Sir Toppham  Hatt was enjoying his breakfast. This being winter, operations didn’t  start as early, and as such he had time for a nice leisurely breakfast,  today consisting of porridge and smoked salmon. It may seem like an odd  combination, but it is a fairly standard practice to serve the two  together in the UK, especially if the salmon has a small bit of lemon on  it. 

On  the wall, his freshly dry-cleaned and pressed trousers were hung. He  had a group of important visitors to show around the island, and as such  he wanted to look his best at the right opportunity. 

“I shall change into them when the photographs are taken,” he mentioned to his wife, Lady Hatt. 

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to change into them before the photographs are taken?” Lady Hatt told her husband. 

Sir Toppham Hatt nodded. “That I will.” He put them into his trunk, and picked it up by its handle, before he set off into the snow. 



Meanwhile,  Percy and Pinkie Pie rumbled along the line, going about their daily  lives on the railway. However, it rapidly became apparent that something  was up. Even though Percy’s fire was burning nice and warm, he was  STILL thinking about scarves. The fact that everywhere he looked people  were wearing scarves. Even Pinkie Pie was wearing a scarf, which didn’t  help matters. 

“My funnel’s cold, my funnel’s cold!” he grumbled, as he rolled up alongside Henry. 

“How?” Henry asked. “You’ve been producing enough hot air to heat the Houses of Parliament!” 

Fluttershy laughed at that. But then her face went serious. “Are you OK Percy? It sounds like you aren’t quite well today.” 

“I want a scarf, I want a scarf!” Percy replied. 

“Rubbish!” Henry replied. “Engines don’t wear scarves; we produce enough heat as it is.” 

“Well,” Percy retorted, “engines with proper funnels do; you’ve only got a small one!” 

“He  doesn’t need a tall funnel!” Pinkie Pie explained. “He’s got a wider  blastpipe than you do, so he doesn’t need a tall one to produce the same  steam pressure!” 

Before  Henry could say anything, Percy simply vanished into the distance.  Henry sighed. “Well, that was rude,” he said. He was meant to be pulling  a special train, with special visitors. You could say it was... a  special special? 

I am sorry. 



Meanwhile, it was nearly time for the photographs, and Sir Toppham  Hatt stood on the platform, watching as the porters pulled a baggage  trolley across the line. This trolley had his trunk on it, which  contained his prize trousers for the photograph. They were walking  backwards to see that nothing fell off it. 

Meanwhile, Percy rolled around a bend and into the station at Tidmouth. Pinkie Pie had already shut off steam outside the statiuon, as was her custom, but Percy tried to roll in as quietly as he could to surprise the coaches. 

But the porters didn’t hear him either, as Percy was almost on toip of them when it was too late. 

“LOOK  OUT!” Pinkie Pie yelled, and the porters ran for their lives as Percy  crashed into the luggage trolley, smashing it to pieces as he did so.  The boxes, and bags, and Sir Toppham  Hatt’s trunk all burst open and produce flew into the air. The trousers  flew through the air, but before that a massive box filled with jam  exploded in mid-air, causing fruit preservative to rain down upon the passengers, and then Percy and Pinkie Pie. 

“Oh dear,” Percy said, worried. 

Pinkie  Pie, in the meantime, simply licked the jam off of her face. “Hmm,  yummy!” she said with a smile. Then her face fell. “Though why rasberry? Surely they know I prefer strawberry jelly...” 

“Jelly?” Percy asked. 

“It’s what we call Jam in America.” 

“Oh.” 



Everyone  looked very silly, especially as a top hat suddenly landed on one of  Percy’s lamp irons, and a pair of trousers were coiled around his funnel  like a scarf. 

“Oh, the irony,” said a disembodied voice. 

“What?” said Sir Toppham Hatt, looking around. But nobody was to be seen. So, he went over to Percy, looking very cross. 

He picked up the Top Hat. “Mine!” he bellowed. “Percy, Pinkie Pie, have you seen this mess you have made?” 

“Yes sir,” Percy said sadly. Pinkie’s hair deflated and hung around her shoulders. 

“The  passengers have ruined clothes, so we must pay them for that. You two  have caused confusion and delay...not to mention ruined my trousers! So,  until the passengers are fully reimbursed, Pinkie Pie, you shall work  for nothing. And don’t think you can weasel your way out of this by  resigning!” 

There was no way out. “Sorry, sir,” both Percy and Pinkie Pie said at once. And they backed out of the station, looking very silly and utterly sorry for themselves. 



On their way, they passed James and Rarity. “Hello!” laughed James. “So, you’ve found your scarf, I take it?” 

“It does look most unfashionable,” Rarity said. “Hold on a second, those are...a pair of trousers I made for Sir Toppham Hatt!” 

“Yes,” Percy said sadly. “I collided with a baggage trolley.” 

Rarity sighed. “Well, I suppose I’ll be getting another order ready,” she sighed. 

James was not done yet. “You do know ghat legs go in trousers, and not funnels, right?” and he sped off to tell Henry the news. 

Pinkie sighed. “We won’t be forgetting this one for a while,” she said. 



That evening, Percy and Thomas were back at the shed. Percy had been cleaned up by Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy had come by to apologise for Henry’s rudeness that afternoon. Percy had in turn apologised for his remarks about funnels. 

“Twilight’s  promised to light me up nice and early tomorrow,” Thomas said, with a  smile on his face. Just then, Henry arrived. After earlier, he had felt  awful for what he’d said to Percy. Nonetheless, they’d been able to  salvage the day by taking the passengers on a trip around the island. 

“The weather will be warmer tomorrow, according to the forecast,” he said. 

“I won’t need a scarf then,” Percy said. 

“All engines need is a warm boiler!” Pinkie Pie said. And everyone laughed.
> Henry's Sneeze
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry  rolled along the main line, enjoying himself immensely. “I feel so  well, I feel so well!” he exclaimed. He had reason to be in high  spirits. The trains were running on time, the sun was out, it was warm,  and the birds were singing away happily in the trees. 

“Trickety trock, trickety trock!”  sang the coaches happily. Just up ahead, they came to a bridge, where a  group of schoolboys were standing and looking down at the track, where  Henry was. 

“They’ve come to wave at us!” he said. As he passed under, he whistled. “Peep peep! HellARRRGH!” 

He  cried out in pain as he rolled under the bridge. Loud crashing noises,  smashed windows, and denting of metal could be heard as he rolled under.  There was also a loud scream from the footplate as Henry ground to a  halt. “What happened?” he asked. 

Those  boys hadn’t wanted to wave at Henry at all. They were hooligans and  delinquents, who for some odd reason hated railways despite living on  the Island of Sodor, and had decided to try and drop stones down Henry’s  funnel to try and clog the blastpipe. They hadn’t hit their intended  target. But they had hit practically everything else. 

“They’ve  broken our glass, they’ve broken our glass!” sobbed the coaches. It was  a miracle none of the passengers had been hit by flying glass shards,  but a stone had fallen directly on Fluttershy,  who sobbed in pain as the guard, who had first aid training, kindly  bandaged her head using the first aid kit that was carried as standard  in brake coaches. 

Thankfully, none of the passengers were hurt, but they were furious and rightly so. “They are hooligans!” shouted one. 

“I was nearly hit by that glass!” another shouted. 

“They deserve a spanking!” shouted a third. 

“CALL THE POLICE!” shouted one and all. 



Fluttershy  struggled to her feet, and walked over to see what was going on.  “There’s no need for that,” she said loudly, which caused them all to  look at her. “You can leave this to me and Henry.” 

“Henry and I,” a passenger corrected. Fluttershy simply stared at him, and he fell silent. 

“Can you all keep a secret?” she asked. 

“Yes, yes we can!” they replied enthusiastically. 

“Well then, Henry shall sneeze at those boys!” Fluttershy  explained. She knew enough about steam engines to be able to produce a  number of different effects, and Crewe had been kind enough to fit Henry  with a condenser during his rebuilt, so that made this a doddle. She  opened the regulator, and set off down the line with Henry. 

Henry sighed. “I don’t like where this is going...” 



Later that day, the passengers re-boarded  the train for the return trip. The coaches had been exchanged for new  ones, with fixed windows, whilst the old ones had their windows fixed. 

“Please keep all windows closed until we have passed the bridge,” Fluttershy  explained, “as this will get rather messy and produce a lot of ash,  which is currently stored up in Henry’s smokebox. We’ll also have the  condenser turned on for maximum effect, so don’t be surprised if you  don’t see much steam until we reach the bridge.” 

She  propped herself up next to the regulator. This wouldn’t be easy in her  state, but she had to do it for her friends, or else those boys would  terrorise that stretch of line for years to come. “Are you excited,  Henry?” 

“Yes, thag you very buch.” Henry’s nose was blocked up, so he couldn’t say much that was comprehensible, but nonetheless the sentiment was clear. Fluttershy eased his regulator open, and away they went down the railway line toward the bridge. 

The  run to the bridge was incredibly tense, as the blockage and pent up  steam simply accumulated in Henry’s tubes and smokebox. But onwards he  went, until they came to the stretch of line which the boys were  dropping stones on. Several of the stones that had missed other trains  were lying about nearby, and as Henry looked up, the boys had another  load of stones in their hands, thinking Henry was to be their next  victims. Oh, how wrong they were. 

“Get ready Henry,” Fluttershy said. “When I say now, sneeze as hard as you can.” 

The bridge got closer and closer. 

The  leader of the boys laughed. “It’s that big green one from earlier,” he  said. “If we stop trains from using that part of the line, they’ll build  that bypass. It’ll make my dad a lot of money too.” 

“Get ready to drop lads!” called another. 

The bridge got closer and closer, Henry rolling toward it. 

“Why’s he shut off steam?” one of the other boys asked, confused. 

“Probably rolling downgrade,” said another, and readied for the drop. 



Just then, Henry rolled under the bridge. 

“NOW!” Fluttershy called, and with an equally swift movement, disengaged the condenser. 

“AATCHOO!”  Henry bellowed, a massive cloud of ash soaring into the air, combined  with a furious roar from his chimney as excess steam was expelled  through the chimney. The resulting noise could be heard several miles  away, and was even mistaken at one point for a volcanic eruption, such  was the cloud of ash being produced. Henry thundered away, producing an  incredible sound as he flew toward the next station. 

The  boys were covered from head to toe in soot and ash, and ran off. But  the description ‘black as soot’ will have to do, as somebody objected to my original description. 

Fluttershy laughed. “Well done Henry!” she called. “You showed those boys who’s boss!” 

Safe  to say, those boys were never seen dropping stones on a train again,  and were punished severely by their parents. However, Henry was warned  never to sneeze again, or produce so much soot and steam unless it was  for a photo charter. After all, it is never fun to be hit by ash and  smoke, regardless of where you are standing, and as a result Henry will probably never do it again.
> Toby and the Stout Gentleman
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For  today’s story, we start somewhere altogether different. This story does  not begin on Sodor, but rather in a county in England, called Norfolk,  in East Anglia. This county has many railways, be we are going to be  looking at a more unusual one today. For this railway was nor like any  other railway. It ran along conventional lines at points in its run, but  it also ran alongside roads for part of its run. As a result, this  railway was dubbed a tramway, and it ran between a village called Upwell, in Norfolk, through a number of smaller communities in Norfolk such as Outwell  and Elmbridge, before crossing the River Nene at Wisbech East, in  Cambridgeshire. A freight only extension continued onto the Midland  & Great Northern Joint Railway at Wisbech North a long time ago, but  that had long since closed when the Midland & Great Northern had  closed, cutting the railway back permanently to Wisbech East. This  railway was the Wisbech and Upwell Tramway, a wonderful agricultural  line that ran for 10 miles and had opened in 1883 to convey passengers  and goods. 

Down  this line, a small engine with a coach and some trucks could be seen  running. He looked most unusual, as he didn’t look much like an engine  at all. His wheels were not visible, as they were covered by  side-plates, and as a result he didn’t resemble the average  imagination’s vision of a steam engine. He also had a pair of  cowcatchers, on the front and back, which were there to ensure that no  marauding cows and other such nature would wander onto the line and  cause problems. He also lacked a conventional appearance, with a body  made of wood and a high roof, in addition to front and rear cab windows,  allowing him to be driven from either direction. However, he only had a  face on one end, and this face was currently looking ahead. 

This  engine was called Toby, and he was a steam tram. He was currently  coupled to a coach called Henrietta, an old four-wheeler with two  balconies at either end, and four 13-ton plank wagons. 

He  takes trucks from the farms and villages to the mainline, and is  cheerful to everyone he meets.  To say his coach, who is called  Henrietta, has seen better days would be an understatement, as she needs  new axle boxes and a fresh coat of paint to boot. 

“It’s  not fair!” she grumbles, as she can remember the glory days when every  one of her seats was full, and nine trucks rattled behind her. Nowadays,  they are lucky if they get 3 or 4. This is because the farms are  increasing sending their goods by road on big lorries that clog up local  roads. Toby is always very careful, and hasn’t had an accident in  years, compared to the buses, lorries, or cars, which seem to have an  accident at least once a weak. 

Rounding  out this trio of characters, alongside Toby and Henrietta, is Toby’s  driver. He has amber skin and bright blue hair, coupled with a pair of  blue eyes. He typically wears a pair of blue trainers with a pair of  blue jeans, alongside a white T-shirt with a lightning bolt symbol over a  shield on it, as well as a black jacket with red and white lining. His  name is Frank Selby, though most people call him Flash Sentry, and he  has been Toby’s driver for a short while now. Nobody could understand  why he took the job. “The railway is closing soon!” they all said, but  Flash simply ignored them, as he enjoyed working with Toby. But they did  have a point. After all, the buses were full, and Henrietta was empty. 



One  afternoon, after a quiet morning, Toby and Flash Sentry pulled into  Wisbech East station, only to see a group of people standing on the  platform. This was an astonishing sight, given that people rarely if  ever travelled by rail around here. They must have come in by train  somehow. 

The  group consisted of a woman in a big hat, two children, and a stout  gentleman who was standing with them. Having a few minutes until they  needed to run around, Flash hopped off Toby’s footplate and went a  collected a cup of tea from the workmen’s hut. When he came back,  however, he noticed the family were looking at Toby closely. 

“Come on grandfather!” called the boy to the man. “Just look at this engine! I’ve never seen one like it before!” 

Flash was about to speak to him when the man started speaking. “That’s a tram engine, Stephen,” he explained. 

The girl looked surprised “Is it electric?” she asked. 

Toby  suddenly let off steam, whilst Flash spat out his tea in shock.  “ELECTRIC?!” he and the tram engine said together, in unison. 

“Shh! Shh!” hissed ‘Stephen’, to the girl. “I think you’ve upset them.” 

The girl just looked even more confused. “But I thought all trams were electric,” she continued. 

“Most trams are,” the stout gentleman explained. “But this is a steam tram, and I believe the last of his class.” 

“LNER  J70, that’s correct,” Flash told him, having regained his composure.  “My name’s Flash Sentry, and I’m his driver. His name is Toby.” 

The stout gentleman extended his hand. “I’m Bertram Toppham Hatt, though you may call me Bertram.” 

They were suddenly interrupted by the children. “Can we go on it grandfather, please?” 

Bertram smiled. “I suppose check-in at our accommodation can wait. May we purchase tickets, please?” 

“Please speak to the guard for tickets,” Flash told him. 



The family scrambled aboard, the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, and away they went. “Hip hip hooray!” cried Henrietta, happy she had passengers once again. But Toby did not share her enthusiasm. 

“Electric indeed! Electric indeed!” he snorted, as he puffed down the line, past farm and field. 

“Toby,”  Flash reminded him, as she adjusted the regulator, “please be glad that  we have passengers. We don’t know if or when we’ll get any more.” 

Toby immediately forgot to be cross, and suddenly ran much more smoothly. 

Once  they got back to Wisbech East, Bertram came around to speak to them.  “Your driver told me that your name was Toby,” he said. “Is this true?” 

“Yes sir, it is,” Toby replied. 

“Well,  thank you both for a nice run,” Bertram said, as he and his family  headed to the car. Both Flash and Toby felt a lot better almost  immediately. 

“That gentleman is a man who knows how to speak to engines,” Toby noted, to nobody in particular. 



The  children came every day for a fortnight to ride on the line, sometimes  riding with the guard, and at others in the empty trucks. On their last  trip, Flash invited them onto the footplate, where they enjoyed seeing  the world rolling toward them from the driver’s perspective. 

Everyone  was sad when they had to go away. Bertram and his family thanked  everyone, and Toby rang his bell as he pulled away. “Come again soon!”  he called, as Flash drove him to his shed. 

“We will! We will!” they called, and waved until Toby was out of sight. 



The  months went by, and things got worse. There were fewer trucks, and next  to no passengers. Then the bombshell hit one morning when Flash opened  up the shed. 

“It’s  the last day Toby,” he told him, as he hopped onto his footplate and  lit his fire. “According to management, the line is to close tomorrow.” 

The  train was absolutely packed, as the townsfolk had turned out wanting  one last ride on the branch. Ironically, this quantity of passengers  would have saved the branch from closure, but they all joked and sang on  the train as they rolled along the line. Flash and Toby wished they  wouldn’t. 

“Goodbye  Toby!” they said, at the end of the line that evening. “We’re sorry  your line is closing down, and we’ll miss you very much.” 

“If you actually cared, you wouldn’t have taken the bus,” Toby thought. “Thank you,” he said. “I will miss you all too.” And he went away to his shed. 

Flash  Sentry closed up the doors for the last time, and walked away, as he  now had to find a new line of work. Toby sat miserably in the shed. 

“Nobody wants me,” he whispered, and as he did so, a single tear rolled out of his eye and landed on the rails below. 



The next morning, the shed door was suddenly flung open. There was Flash, looking happier than ever before! 

“What are you so happy about?” he asked, in his broad East Anglian accent. 

“Listen to this!” Flash replied. “It’s from that Bertram fellow!” 

Toby listened and- 

-but I shan’t say any more, or I shall spoil the next story.
> Thomas in Trouble
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do  you remember me mentioning the extension off of Thomas’ branch line in a  previous story? Well, since we last saw Thomas’ branch line, this piece  of railway has been repaired and brought up to tramway standards, so  that Thomas (or any other engine with a short wheelbase for that matter)  can take a train loaded with either quarrymen, supplies, or both, down  to the quarry, and bring loaded stone back with him to Ffarquhar for onward transit to the main line. 

The  line continued for some distance, and ran alongside the road. Thomas  always ran slowly here, and Twilight was careful to whistle at crossings  and footpaths just in case anybody was there and needed warning of an  approaching train. 

One  morning, Thomas rolled around the tight bend in the line, to see a  policeman sitting by the side of the road. Thomas had been good friends  with the policeman who had previously been on duty there, and whistled  to him in a friendly manner, assuming that this policeman would also be  friendly like the last one. 

But  alas, he was not. “STOP!” the policeman bellowed, holding his hand out  with his fingers up and palm facing the train. Twilight applied Thomas’  brakes and brought him to a stop. 

“Disgraceful!”  the policeman snapped. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and now  engines come up behind me and whistle loudly, breaking Rule 14 in the  process!” 

Thomas looked sad. “Sorry sir,” he said, “but I was only trying to be friendly.” 

“Don’t answer back!” the policeman continued, clearly in a foul mood. “Where is your driver? I wish to speak to him.” 

“My  driver is a she,” Thomas answered. “Her name is Twilight Sparkle.” Just  at that moment, Twilight hopped off the footplate and went over to the  policeman. 

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” she asked. 

The policeman spluttered. “How old are you, ten?” he asked. 

“Fifteen, sir,” Twilight replied. 

The policeman shook his head. “Well, Sir Toppham Hatt must be cutting costs if he's hiring teenagers. Where are this engine’s cowcatchers and side plates?” 

“But...I don’t catch cows, sir,” Thomas replied flatly. 

“Are you trying to make me arrest you?” the policeman thundered. Thomas shut up almost immediately. 

The  policeman then continued. “According to the safety code, engines  running alongside or on public roads must have their wheels covered at  all times to prevent people and animals from getting pulled under the  wheels. Furthermore, they must be fitted with cowcatchers to deal with  any animals that may stray onto the line. You haven’t, so you are  dangerous.” 

Twilight looked perplexed. “There aren’t any farms around her sir,” she said. 

“Doesn’t matter,” the policeman replied. “Rules are rules.” 

“Besides,” Twilight interrupted, “we’ve run this line many, many times and never had a problem here.” 

“Well  then,” the policeman interrupted in turn, “that means you’ve admitted  to breaking the law on several occasions.” He wrote ‘REGULAR LAW  BREAKER’ in massive letters in his notebook. 

Thomas puffed sadly away. He hadn’t expected that policeman to be so rude, and so upset was he he didn’t notice that Clarabel was facing the wrong way. 



Meanwhile, Sir Toppham Hatt was eating his breakfast at home. He was having toast and marmalade, when suddenly the butler entered the room. 

“My apologies sir,” he said, “but you are wanted on the telephone. Apparently, it is an urgent matter.” 

“Bother that telephone,” Sir Toppham  Hatt complained, as he rose from his seat. He walked through the  corridor and picked up the receiver, only to receive a very strange  message on the other end. 

“Hold  on a minute,” he said, “why are you telling me that the law is the law,  and why is the fact I am sighing being reported in the third person?” 

“Because,”  said Pinkie Pie, suddenly appearing from nowhere, “the producers of the  episode wanted to save money, so they simply took audio from later in  the episode and sped it up!” 

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. “Pinkie Pie, please get out of my house,” he sighed. AS she did, the voice suddenly sped up and became unintelligible. 

“Oh  dear,” he sighed. He spoke to his wife as he put on his top hat.  “Terribly sorry dear,” he said, “but Thomas and Twilight have got  themselves into some sort of trouble with the police, and I must go at  once to sort this nonsense out.” 



At  the station, Twilight explained what had happened. “The policeman  claimed Thomas was a danger to the public, and as a result needed to  have these safety features fitted.” 

“A danger to the public, indeed!” Sir Toppham Hatt said, noting it had been several months since they had last had an accident. “We’ll see about that.” 

He  argued with the policeman, who was just as rude and abrasive as he had  been to Twilight and Thomas. “The law is the law, and we cannot change  it,” he said. “Not only that, I could charge you with breach of child employment regulations for your employment of those under the age of 18.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt sighed. “Oh, I give up,” he said. “Sorry Twilight, Thomas, but  we’ll have to get Thomas fitted with cowcatchers and side plates.” 

Thomas looked horrified. “Everybody will laugh sir!” he exclaimed. “They’ll say I look like a tram!” 



There was a brief silence. Then Sir Toppham Hatt had an idea. “That’s it!” he said. “Well done Thomas, why didn’t I think of it before? We want a tram engine!” 

He  then continued at an incredible pace. “When I was on holiday in East  Anglia, I met a tram engine named Toby, and his driver. I shall send for  them at once, as Toby has cowcatchers and side plates, not to mention  his line is on the verge of closing.” 

Toby and Flash arrived the very next day, and rolled to a stop in the platform at Knapford Junction. Twilight was there to greet them, as was Thomas. 

“Peep peep! Hello!” Thomas whistled cheerfully. 

“So, you’re Flash, right?” Twilight asked. 

“That’s  me,” he said, awkwardly. He’d never been hugely good at social  interaction, and as such had a tendency to keep his sentences short. 

Sir Toppham Hatt walked over to them. “I see you made it safely, and brought Henrietta with you,” he said. 

“The station master at Wisbech East wanted to use her as a henhouse, and I would never want that,” Toby replied. 

Flash resumed speaking with Twilight. “So, I hear a policeman is giving you trouble,” he said. 

“Yep,” Twilight replied. “He’s such a bossy boots too. Hopefully somebody will put him in his place.” 

“Just  you wait and see,” Flash smiled. “We had to deal with one like him at a  place called Shepherd’s Cottage, and we showed him.” 



A  few days later, the policeman waited by the line, waiting to catch out  Thomas and Twilight for breaking the law again. A whistle suddenly  sounded through the air, and as he looked over, he saw a big brown  engine rumbling toward him, with cowcatchers and side plates, pulling a  long train of trucks and a single coach! 

The  policeman spluttered like a beatboxer for at least 20 seconds, before  bellowing “OI, YOU!” But Toby then sounded his whistle, and rang his  bell, and the policeman fell off his bike and landed in a muddy pool! 

He looked up, defeated. “Maybe I should get that transfer to Barrow Police,” he said. 



Thomas  was jealous at first of Toby, but ever since Toby scared off the  policeman, they have been firm friends ever since, and the same is true  of Twilight and Flash.
> Dirty Objects
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toby,  Henrietta, and Flash are enjoying their new lives on the Island of  Sodor, but there is one distinct problem in that regard. They are not in  the best of shape, and Flash, with his shabby clothes from years on the  footplate, as well as Toby and Henrietta having peeling paint and  clanking parts, doesn’t leave the best of impressions on prospective  passengers. 

One  day, James and Rarity arrived on a passenger train whilst Toby was  sitting in the platform for the branch line, and proceeded to be rude to  the. Well, James did at least. “Eurgh! What dirty objects!” he said. 

Toby was not at all pleased at this, and proceeded to ask James a question. “James, why are you red?” he asked. 

“Because I’m painted red,” James replied. 

“Well, that’s obvious,” Flash added. 

“It’s  also because I’m a splendid engine, ready for anything and always  looking my finest. You never see MY paint dirty!” James was confident in  his superiority. 

“Not to mention he looks absolutely fabulous,” Rarity added. 

Toby smirked. “Well then, that explains why you needed bootlaces once, to ‘be ready for anything’, I suppose.” 

Rarity  spoke up. “Those bootlaces belonged to a Mr Jeremiah Jobling, a man I  sincerely hope I do not meet again, and has nothing to do with James’  paint.” She paused. “Mr Sentry, I am hereby offering to tailor some new  clothes for you. Those ones you are wearing now do look a little on the  worn side.” 

“That’s  putting it mildly, darling,” Flash answered. “Thanks for the offer;  I’ll pop in on my day off and see what takes my fancy.”’ 

Unfortunately,  Toby hadn’t realised (or maybe he had) that by mentioning the bootlace  incident, when James’ brakes had to be repaired using a leather bootlace  and some old newspaper, had touched a particularly raw nerve, as Gordon  had begun teasing him about it again despite Rainbow Dash’s efforts to  get him to stop. The moment the signal dropped, James stormed away from  the platform, hissing furiously and producing large quantities of steam. 



James’s passenger run ended at Knapford,  and he uncouples from the coaches and went off to the goods yard to  fetch some trucks. This was for a slow goods working, which stopped at  each and every station to pick up and set down goods. James hated these  workings as they were so slow. 

“These dirt, smelly wagons are positively frightful,” Rarity said, holding her nose as she backed James into the trucks. 

“I know!” James said, as he backed into some more and marshalled them together. “Dirty trucks from dirty sidings. Bleuagh!” 

Starting  with only a few trucks, James slowly picked up more and more trucks,  until he had assembled a train of at least 20 vehicles plus a brake van.  This required slow speeds, as none of the vans were fitted, and if a  runaway were to occur, it would be almost impossible to stop the train  on a steep slope with just steam brakes and a brake van. 

Unfortunately,  this being James, he made the unwise decision to take out his anger on  these trucks. Although Rarity chastised him for this, James paid no  attention to her, and as a result the trucks got angry too. They  resolved to pay James out at the top of the next hill, Gordon’s Hill,  which as my regular readers will know is very steep indeed. 

James  neared the summit of Gordon’s Hill, which is where heavy goods trains  stop to pin down the brakes before attempting to run down the other side  of the hill. James had had an accident with trucks before, and as such  Rarity applied the brakes and shut off steam to bring the train to a  stop. 

“Wait  James, wait!” she called, as the train slowed down. But James was in  two places at once, only half-concentrating on what was going on, the  other half being preoccupied with what he would say to Toby when they  next met. 

But  the trucks had no intention of letting them stop. “NOW!” their leader  screeched, and they all slammed into each other with incredible force,  causing the train to speed up down the hill. And with no brakes, they  were headed for oblivion. 



Rarity watched in a panic as the speedometer continued to rise, well past 40, and upwards to 50 and 60 miles an hour. 

“On! On! On!” the trucks yelled excitedly, revelling in the chaos they were causing. 

“Do these trucks have a death wish or something?” James shouted. 

“I don’t know!” Rarity cried back. “But we’ve not slowing down!” 

The  speedometer had reached its maximum possible speed of 80 miles an hour,  but Rarity knew they were going much, much faster than that. She used  the in-cab radio to alert Marron yard. 

“Marron Yard, Marron Yard, do you read me, over?” she asked. 

“This is Marron Yard to driver of 10:40 goods to Crovan’s Gate, how can I help you?” 

“We are running downhill out of control, at speeds of at least 80 miles an hour. Repeat, eight-zero miles an hour.” 

“Understood. We’ll divert you into a siding. Be prepared to bail.” 



The  train roared into Marron station, the noise from the brakes terrible  and the blocks glowing white hot in their futile battle to slow the  train down. 

“I’ve got to stop!” James cried. 

Edward  and Applejack pulled to a stop on an adjacent platform, only to see the  goods train roar through and onto a siding loaded with tankers ready to  go to another part of the island. 

Applejack could see that Rarity was clearly still on the footplate. “BAIL, BAIL!” she yelled, but it was too late. 



Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. 



James  smashed into the first tanker car, the impact with the tanker rupturing  the seal and tearing the tank free of the frames. This flew into the  air, and James then rode over the top of the tankers, blowing open the  seals and crushing the frames, before falling onto his side on the main  running line with a bang. 

The entire area was covered in tar, and James was covered from smokebox to cab in the stuff, looking a complete mess. 

Applejack ran over to assist, and went into the cab to find a badly injured Rarity propped against the cab wall. 

“Mah goodness!” she cried. “C’mon Rares, Ah’ll get ya  to a doctor.” At which point, she went over and helped her up, dragging  her over to a nearby cattle dock while a first aid worker checked her  over. 

Several  wagons had been broken into pieces by the crash, and James looked a  mess, with bent lamp irons, a crooked chimney, and dented side rods.  Thankfully, somebody went and got the breakdown train, and they were  working to re-rail him when Toby and Percy arrived. 

“Look here Percy,” said Toby, quite out of character with the scene that had just passed. “What is this thing here?” 

“That’s James, didn’t you know?” Percy asked him. Pinkie Pie looked equally confused. 

“Yeah, that’s James all right.” 

“Well, it looks like James, but he’s a splendid red engine, and you never see his paint dirty.” 

“Can you please stop joking?!” James demanded. “Rarity is badly hurt as a result of this accident, and you two are not helping!” 

Thankfully, they stopped then and there, and cleared away the rest of the mess before helping James home, where Sir Toppham Hatt greeted them. 

“Well done Toby and Percy!” he said. “Yiou  did a good job cleaning that mess.” He looked to James. “Now then, we  need to get you cleaned up and repaired. But you will be glad to hear  that Rarity is in the hospital and stable. They think she’ll recover  from her injuries.” He looked finally to Toby. “You shall have a new  coat of paint, as shall Henrietta.” 

The  days went by, and Toby and Flash went about their work. They made sure  to visit Rarity in the hospital, and Pinkie Pie put on a great party  when she returned to work. But James made sure never to boast about his  paint again!
> Mrs Kyndley's Christmas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It  was nearly Christmas on Thomas’ branch line, and this meant that the  line was busy, busy, busy. Thomas and Twilight were working especially  hard, as Annie and Clarabel were full to bursting with passengers, which made the train very heavy indeed. 

“Oh, come along, oh come along!” he called, as they rolled along the line, slowly due to the weight. 

“We feel so full! We feel so full!” the coaches complained. 

Twilight sighed. “They’re not the only ones,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked. 

“That  lunch we had at Sweet Apple Acres was most filling,” she said. Due to  the nature of the timetable, Toby had worked the morning train whilst  Twilight and her friends had gathered at Sweet Apple Acres, where  Applejack and her family lived, for a pre-Christmas gathering which had  culminated in one of Granny Smith’s excellent, if incredibly filling,  lunches. The family had been such welcome hosts, even if Applejack’s  younger sister had been a little irritating. “As a result,” Twilight  continued, “I doubt I’ll want any dinner!” 

“Then it must have been good,” Thomas replied. “Not needing food myself, I can’t exactly judge, but I do appreciate good and proper coal.” 

Near the other end of Ffarquhar  Tunnel is a short climb, and at the end of that climb there is a house,  that is neither in New Orleans nor called the Rising Sun. It is a  fairly simple two storey building, with windows that face onto the  railway line. As Thomas mounted the summit, puffing and panting as he  did so, he suddenly saw a hand waving to him. 

“I can do it, I can do it!” he panted, as he rolled over the rise and into the next station of Hackenbeck. Twilight got out of the cab and aligned the water tower to replenish Thomas’ tanks. 

“Do you know who that was in the house, Thomas?” she asked, rhetorically. 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Thomas replied. “Who are they?” 

“That is Mrs Kyndley,”  said Twilight, “a most apt name if ever I heard one. She’s a nice old  lady, but sadly she is very ill and has to stay in bed all day until she  recovers.” 

“That’s awful!” said Thomas. “Maybe we can do something for her,” he continued. 

Twilight  sighed. “I wish we could,” she said. “But what could we do?” Now that  Thomas’ tanks were refilled, she got back onboard and they resumed their  journey down the line. 



All  the engines had hard work and heavy loads to look forward to over the  holiday season. But they didn’t mind the extra strain one bit, as they  could see Mrs Kyndley waving to them from her bedroom window, and this cheered them up greatly as they went about their daily duties. 

But  then it began to rain. The heavens opened, and indeed remained that  way, for days and days and days (rather than always and always and  always). It rained so heavily that raindrops began to bounce off the  ground, which was thoroughly waterlogged, and Thomas, I am sorry to say,  did not like the heavy rain one bit. Neither did Twilight, for that matter. 

“Seriously?” she said, to the rain clouds and to Thomas. “Why does it have to rain now, of all times of the year?” 

“They need to stop quoting Greg Lake then,” Thomas said simply. “It’s just tempting fate, you see.” 

“Oh well,” Twilight replied. “Just pull hard and run quickly to Ffarquhar, and that way we can be indoors quickly and with some hot drinks to warm us up.” 

“You mean warm YOU up?” Thomas replied. “I can’t use milk or chocolate, or coffee! I wouldn’t go well with my tanks or boiler!” 

“At least you’ve got a permanent source of heat on you at all times,” Twilight answered. “I’m not sure if Mrs Kyndley will wave today, but please do whistle.” 

And so, irrespective of whether she waved or not, they always whistled when they passed the home of Mrs Kyndley,  hoping the bad-tempered policemen didn’t cause them any trouble for  that, which he probably wouldn’t but, but still, it never hurts to be  cautious. And so, it went on for many days and weeks. 



One day, Thomas was coming up the slope when Twilight called out to him. “Thomas, look! Something’s wrong!” 

Hanging out of Mrs Kyndley’s bedroom window was a red flag of some sort, an indication to stop. 

“What could the red flag be about?” Twilight asked. 

“Maybe Mrs Kyndley needs help!” Thomas suggested. 

Twilight  got out of the cab and went over to the house, entering a few moments  later. After a few minutes had elapsed, she came back out and spoke to  the passengers. 

“May I have your attention please?” she asked. “Mrs Kyndley needs medical assistance. Can two of you watch over her please?” 

Two passengers immediately disappeared into the house. 

“Can the guard walk back down the line to get the Hackenback Doctor?” 

“I can just phone him!” the guard replied, and switched his handset on. 

Just then, Twilight went ahead to check if the line was clear. But it wasn’t. 



In front of her was a huge mass of piled up earth and broken trees, covering the entire line and burying the cutting. 

“Good heavens!” she cried, and headed back up the line. “I must warn the train!” 



She found the doctor with Mrs Kyndley,  who looked a little better than when she last saw her. “Silly of me to  faint,” she said. “Did you see the red dressing gown? Are you safe?” 

“We’re  fine,” Twilight replied. “Thanks for the warning; you prevented a nasty  accident.” She then explained what had happened to the doctor. “Mrs Kyndley saw the landslide up ahead and warned us, saving our lives in the process.” 



The line was cleared a few days later, and the sun shone on Christmas Day as a special train proceeded up the line from Knapford  Junction. On the head was Thomas with a snowplough. Behind him was  Toby, and behind Toby was Henrietta. Their crews all stood proudly on  the footplates, for they had helped a friend in need. And, after all, as  Twilight always said, a friend in need is a friend indeed. 

Mr Kyndley greeted Sir Toppham Hatt and Twilight at the door, and the three of them went upstairs to where Mrs Kyndley  was in bed. After giving her some presents, namely a new dressing gown  to replace the red one, some grapes, a new pair of slippers, and some  coal, Sir Toppham Hatt spoke. 

“The passengers and I,” Sir Toppham  Hatt said, “are thankful for you saving our lives when we otherwise  would have gone into a cutting and derailed.” He paused. “I hope you  accept these tickets for a trip to the South Coast of England, and I  hope you will get well soon. I hope we haven’t been too much of a  bother. Goodbye, and a Merry Christmas!” 

Going downstairs, they then joined the rest of the passengers and sang Christmas carols before re-joining the train to go back to Knapford Junction. 

Mrs Kyndley is now in Bournemouth, in Dorset, and is getting better every day. And Thomas, Twilight, Toby, and Flash look forward to the day when they can welcome her home.
> Off the Rails
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Gordon was resting sideways. 

Wait, what? 

Sorry everyone, it seems that Keeper of Porridge has hacked my keyboard. Give me a moment. 



That’s better. Now to get on with the actual story for today. 



One morning, Gordon was resting in a siding in Knapford  Yard, his eyes closed as he had just come back from a long passenger  run from the mainland. It had been a long and heavy train, and to make  matters worse the coaches had misbehaved. So, naturally enough, Gordon  felt like he deserved a nice rest, and there he was sitting on the  siding, with the quiet noise and hubbub of the station going nicely as  music in the background. 

“Sometimes,”  he thought to himself, “it is so tiring being such a large and splendid  engine. One does have to keep up appearances so, and that means having a  proper time to rest every now and then.” 

But  if Gordon thought he was going to get a proper rest, he was sore  mistaken. Henry suddenly shot past on his left, whistling rudely. “Peep peep peep peep! Hello fatface!” he shouted, rolling to a stop alongside him. 

“What  Cheak!” thundered Gordon, having been woken from his slumber like an  angry giant. “Fancy him speaking to ME like that, he’s far too big for  his wheels! Why, I’ve never had an accident, unlike you.” 

Fluttershy  leaned out of Henry’s cab. “That crash wasn’t Henry’s fault, Gordon,”  she said. “Although I do apologise for what Henry said to you.” Just  then, the signal dropped. “Ooh! Gotta go! Goodbye!” And Henry then vanished into the distance. 

But  if Gordon thought he could then get off to sleep, he was wrong again.  Who should appear but Percy, sidling up alongside him with a wry grin. 

“Aren’t jammed whisrtles and burst safety valves accidents?” he asked. Pinkie Pie leaned out of the cab window and began talking. 

“Yeah,  I’m pretty certain that incident with a whistle would qualify as an  accident because it was really SUPER loud and it blew out the glass in  most of the town and nearly deafened the Fat-” 

“SIR  TOPPHAM HATT TO YOU!” Gordon bellowed. “And no, they do not qualify as  an ‘accident’,” he continued, putting particular emphasis on the word  ‘accident’. “High spirits can happen to any engine, yes, but to actually  come off the rails? Like Henry did, well I ask you; is it proper? Is it  decent?” 

Nobody noticed the musical notes being played between Gordon’s words, and Percy simply vanished off into the distance. 



Later  that day, Henry backed down onto the express. Gordon had worked it the  previous day, so that meant Gordon got a rest. Henry rolled to a stop  and hit the coaches gently. 

Gordon  watched the entire scene, and decided to contribute some advice. “Those  coaches are heavy, so you may need some extra power starting off,” he  said. “And be careful, Henry; you’re not pulling the Flying Kipper now,  so make sure you stay on the rails today.” 

Henry simply huffed, and was clearly about to retort, but Fluttershy stopped him. “If you can’t think of something pleasant to say,” she began. 

“Then  don’t say it at all,” Henry finished. Just then the guard’s whistle  went, and the signal dropped. Henry’s hooter rang through the station  yard magnificently, and he thundered away from the station in a huff,  glaring at Gordon as he raced past and vanished into the distance ahead  on his way to Vicarstown. 



Gordon  then went back to sleep as Henry left the yard, hoping to get some more  rest. But it was not to be, as a familiar voice called to him. “Come on  Gordon! A special train has arrived, and we’re to pull it!” 

Gordon  sighed as he opened his eyes, to see Rainbow Dash standing in front of  him. “Good morning, Rainbow Dash,” he said sleepily. 

“Hey  buddy,” she replied, before taking a bite out of a sandwich she was  holding, before her smile vanished. “Yuck. Needs more mustard.” 

Gordon  took it as a good time to ask about the train. “Is it coaches or  trucks?” he asked, sincerely hoping it would be the former. 

Rainbow Dash sighed. “I’m not sure how you British refer to it,” she said, “but it’s what we call cars.” 

“Cars,”  Gordon repeated. “In the American dictionary, those are vehicles used  for pulling freight so it is...TRUCKS?!!!” He then shuddered. “Pugh!” 



Gordon’s  fire was slow, which was a problem as he was needed at the turntable in  order to work his next train, it not being safe to run fast backwards.  As a result, Edward and Applejack were brought in to push him there. 

“I won’t go, I won’t go!” Gordon grumbled. 

“Don’t be silly, don’t be silly,” Edward replied. 

“Just  do some hard work for a change,” Applejack said. This annoyed Gordon,  as this phrase had been Thomas’ principle means of annoying him back in  the day. 

“Come  on Gordon,” Rainbow Dash said to him. “The faster we get this job out  of the way, the sooner you can be back on that siding. Sound good?” 

Gordon  didn’t reply as he was wheeled onto the turntable. His fire was now  going nicely, and this meant he was producing plenty of steam. 

Rainbow  Dash hopped off his footplate and went to operate the turntable  controls. There was a judder as the electric motor kicked in, the table  slowly swinging around to face the other way and get Gordon the right  way around. 

Gordon  was still fuming, and then came up with a plan. “I’ll show them, I’ll  show them,” he said to himself, certain he wouldn’t spin like a record  (right round round). He’d only meant to block the turntable, but  suddenly found that as he rolled forward off the turntable, he couldn’t  stop! Right in front of him was a muddy pond, absolutely filled with  sludge and other such waste, and he fell off the track and fell right  into the mess. 

“Hoooosh!” he cried, as he released steam from his cylinder cocks. “Get me out! Get me out this instant!” 

Rainbow  Dash simply looked confused. “What just happened?” she asked. As she  walked around the front, she could see Gordon was stuck in place by the  mud and muck. She briefly tried to suppress a smirk, and then burst out  laughing. 

“It’s not funny!” Gordon replied. “I’m stuck!” 

Rainbow  Dash shook her head, and observed the mess once she had calmed down.  “There’s not a hope of getting you out,” she said finally. “You’re  stuck, you idiot.” 



Sir Toppham Hatt was sitting in his office, when suddenly his telephone rang. “Hello?” he asked. 

There was some brief high-pitched speech at the other end. 

“Oh, not this again,” he sighed. “I have already heard the law is the law, and I am not sighing in the third person!” 

There was another pause. “What’s that you say?” he asked. “Gordon didn’t want to take the train, so he fell into the ditch?” 

There was some more speech. 

“The  special’s waiting? Oh, tell Edward and Applejack to take it. Leave  Gordon stuck in the mud. That’ll teach him to try and slack off.” 



On the other side of the ditch, two boys had gathered, and were laughing at Gordon. 

“Doesn’t he look silly!” said one. 

“I agree!” said the other. “They’ll never get him out!” 

Then they began singing: 



“Silly old Gordon fell in a ditch, 

fell in a ditch, fell in a ditch, 

Silly old Gordon fell in a ditch, 

All on a Monday morning!” 



Gordon sat in the ditch for the rest of the day. “Oh dear,” he said, “I shall never get out. I shall simply rust away in this frog-infested pond and then there will be-” 

“Don’t  be silly!” said Rainbow Dash. Despite her anger toward Gordon, she had  stayed with him out of loyalty the entire time. “They’ll get you out...eventually.” 



That evening, the cranes were brought in from the yard, and used to lift  Gordon’s driving and leading wheels from the mud. Then ropes were  attached to the back of his tender coupling, and then James pulled  Gordon free from the mess, getting him back onto the rails. 

Gordon was moved back into the depot under his own power. He was a sadder and  wiser engine, and worried about what tomorrow would bring.
> Leaves
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One  day, Thomas was being cleaned whilst Gordon was receiving a thorough  wash from yesterday’s mishap. Mud was all over Gordon’s frames and  boiler, and Rainbow Dash was washing it off with a high-pressure hose. 

“Hello Gordon!” called Thomas. “You look as if you’ve had a mudbath!” 

“What happened Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked, concerned. 

Rainbow  Dash looked back. “I’m totally cool with you calling me Dash, Twi,” she  replied. “Gordon here fell in a ditch yesterday, and I still need to  clean all the mess off from yesterday.” 

“Good thing you’re having a shower at the moment!” Thomas called. 

“I  need to look presentable in order to be used on the railway-mind my  eye!” Gordon shut his eyes as the hose washed his face and the water  trickled down both his frames and bufferbeam, dribbling onto his bogies as it did so. 

“I  can’t clean you if you don’t keep your eyes shut!” Rainbow Dash said.  Eventually, they got the worst of it off, but there was still some mud  on the boiler, which they had no time to remove. 



Later that day, Gordon was run to the yard where Sir Toppham Hatt was waiting. 

“I,”  he said, “do not trust you with a passenger train at the moment. Your  behaviour yesterday was simply disgraceful, and although you have  apologised, you shall remain here shunting trucks for a while, until I  can trust you again.” He walked away, with a visible scowl on his face. 

He  wasn’t the only one. “Really?” said Gordon. “He has two tank engines,  and he uses a Pacific to shunt the trucks? Me, the only A0 ever built,  and the blueprint for all my cousins to follow, like Mallard and  Tornado!” 

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Oh well. It may be like cracking walnuts with a sledgehammer, but it’s what we gotta do.” She eased off the brakes, and backed Gordon up into the yard. 



Later,  whilst Gordon was taking a break, James and Rarity came by. Rainbow  Dash was trying to get some more mud off Gordon, with minimal success. 

“Hello  Gordon!” called Rarity. “Whatever happened? Did somebody throw mud at  you?” she then addressed Rainbow Dash. “I say, that must be frightfully  messy, Darling.” 

“It  may be messy,” Rainbow Dash replied, “but it’s part and parcel of  routine maintenance, and as such it must be done. I just drew the short  straw today.” 

James  began to laugh as Rainbow Dash walked around the other side. “Just  imagine that!” he said. “You, Gordon, the big blue engine, getting his  paint muddy! Or falling in a ditch! It doesn’t bare thinking, and would  never happen to me!” 

Rarity  paled. She still remembered the big accident when James crashed into  the tar wagons, and it had left her in hospital for a while. It was not a  pleasant thing to think about. 

Gordon,  on the other hand, seemed to get enraged. “You crashed into those  tankers!” he boomed. “And you are getting a cheap laugh out of my  predicament!” 

And  just then, he let off steam. Mud flew through the air, and splattered  all over James. It didn’t just land on James. It landed on Rarity too,  making an absolute mess of her clothes. 

“Oh, this is horrible!” Rarity said, horrified. “I made these myself! How in the world will I get them clean in time?” 

“You could have a wash down,” Rainbow Dash suggested, with a playful smile. 

James simply looked furious. “You will pay for this, Gordon!” he snapped, as he blasted away. 

“Good riddance,” Gordon replied, when James was firmly out of earshot. “I was tiring of his endless prattle anyway.” 



Soon,  Gordon got back to work shunting the trucks around the yard, bumping  them hard. “That’s for you!” he shouted, as the trucks slammed together  and rolled through the yard. “And you! And you!” 

Soon enough, James came by again, considerably cleaner. “Trucks will be trucks!” he laughed. 

“You’d  know all about that, wouldn't you?” Gordon asked him. “Besides, these  trucks will behave themselves when the yard is mine. I’ll teach them.” A  moment later, he slammed into them and resumed work. 

Rarity  sighed. “Oh well. We have a passenger train to pull, so we had better  go and do that instead of watch Gordon and Rainbow Dash make fools of  themselves.” 



James rolled past with the express a few hours later, and stopped at the station next to the yard where Gordon was working. 

“Hey,” Rainbow Dash called over to them, “you may wanna be careful. The hill is steep and covered in leaves.” 

“That will make it very slippery, and you may get stuck,” Gordon added. 

James smiled. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” And he rolled away before Gordon had a chance to answer. 

The big engine fumed. “Why, that little piece of-” 

“Language!” Rainbow Dash told him. “Besides, if they make fools of themselves, it’s hardly our problem. C’mon, back to work!” 



Earlier  that day, a storm had swept over Gordon’s hill, and the rails were  covered in leaves. They were wet, and sticky, and as a result it would  be very difficult for an engine to get grip on the rails. 

The  storm had cleared, but the hill was still dangerous. James knew this,  and began to speed up as soon as he could. He hit the hill going quite  fast, but as he struggled up his wheels began to slip. 

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” he cried. But he couldn’t. “I must do it! I MUST do it!” 

His wheels simply span faster and faster, and no matter how much Rarity adjusted the cutoff or regulator, his wheels simply span more and more until he ground to a screeching halt on the hill. 

Then,  he began to slide backwards. Smoke and steam shot into the air as his  wheels revolved at speeds of well over 50 miles an hour. 

“Help!  Help!” he cried. Rarity shut off steam, moved the reverser backward,  and then applied power, backing James gently down the track and to the  signal at the bottom of the hill. 

Gordon was waiting at the bottom, and had seen everything. “What was that about not getting stuck?” he asked. 

Rarity looked out of the cab. “Rainbow Dash,” she said. “That climb is simply monstrous. It’s the steepest I’ve ever known!” 

Rainbow Dash laughed. “Please, you think that’s bad? I once got a train up Bincombe Tunnel with no wheelslip, and that is a steep grade!” 

Gordon smiled once more. “Never mind, I’ll push you up the hill.” 



It  was a spectacular sight to see, these two engines battling it out with  the gradient. Smoke and steam roared into the air as the train made its  way up the hill. 

“We can do it!” called James. 

“We will do it,” Gordon replied. 

At last, they reached the top, and James rolled over the top. “Thank you!” called Rarity. 

“Goodbye, and no problem!” Rainbow Dash called back. 



Gordon simply smiled, and then returned back down the hill to resume his shunting.
> Down the Mine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later, Thomas was sitting in the platform at Knapford Junction, waiting for clearance to depart to Ffarquhar.  A few minutes later, Gordon shuffled in with some trucks. Although he  was working well enough to be let out of the yard and pull trains, he  wasn’t yet trusted enough to be allowed to pull coaches. So, there he  was, pulling fast goods trains there and back again. Although by fast, I  mean little more than walking pace, as these trains were still unfitted  stock and banged rather loudly. 

“Phew!” said Thomas, loudly. “What an awful smell!” 

Gordon looked over, not amused at all. 

“Can you smell a smell?” Thomas asked, addressed to nobody in particular. 

“I can’t smell a smell,” said Annie. 

“Neither can I,” added Twilight. 

“A funny, musty sort of smell,” said Thomas. 

“Nobody  noticed it until you did,” Gordon said grumpily. “By logical extension,  it must be yours, or it could be Twilight’s simply awful perfume.” 

“Hey!” Twilight shouted. “I don’t even wear perfume! And the hair conditioner I use doesn’t smell that bad!” 

About two stories back, Gordon had fallen into a smelly ditch whilst coming off the turntable at Tidmouth. Unfortunately, Thomas took the opportunity to rib him about it with every chance he got. 

“Annie, Clarabel,  Twilight?” he asked. “Do you know what I think it is?” And before  anybody had any chance to reply, he answered his own question. “Why,  it’s ditch water!” 

Thomas then sped into the distance before Gordon could reply. “Get back here, you fiend!” he shouted. 

Rainbow  Dash sighed. “Gordon, just let it go,” she said. “We have better things  to do.” And she opened Gordon’s regulator, continuing on their long  journey. 



Twilight was shocked at what Thomas had said. As they sped along the line, she grilled him about it. 

“Thomas, that wasn’t a kind thing to say!” she snapped. 

“So  what?” he replied. “He had it coming to him. After all, he chose to  block that turntable. So, he’s getting what he deserves.” 

Twilight sighed. “You are unbelievable, Thomas,” she said, with a huff. 

Annie and Clarabel were equally shocked. “He’s dreadfully rude, I feel quite ashamed, I feel quite ashamed, he’s dreadfully rude.” 

They then spoke to Thomas. “You mustn’t be rude, you make us ashamed!” But Thomas didn’t care a bit. 

“That was funny, that was funny!” he chortled to himself, as he shunted Annie and Clarabel into a siding at Ffarquhar. He felt very proud of what he had said, which horrified Annie and Clarabel (this admittedly, was not much of a change from normal), who respected Gordon very deeply. 

Twilight  was also disappointed, but chose to say no more. They had another job  down at the mine that lay at the end of the tramway. Thankfully, the  troublesome policeman had been moved to another part of the island, one  that had no railways near it, which got him out of the way and stopped  his grumbling. Besides, Toby had been enough of a fright for him. 

A  long time ago, lead mining operations had begun in the area. The roofs  from the tunnels created during the mining process lay under the ground,  and the land above them was unstable. This land was strong enough to  hold up trucks, but not engines, or else the ground would give way. 

There  is a large notice there which informs them of this fact, stating in  block capitals that DANGER: ENGINES MUST NOT PASS THIS BOARD. Thomas had  often wanted to pass by that board and into the sidings, but every time  Twilight had caught and stopped him. 

“Silly  old board!” he said to himself. But this time, he intended to succeed,  for he had a plan, a plan so cunning that if you put a tale on it, you  could call it a weasel. 



Twilight  got out of Thomas’ cab to change the points, but she had forgotten to  secure Thomas’ brakes properly, which was a rather severe error. 

“Now  for my plan!” Thomas called, and suddenly started forward past the  point lever. He slammed into the trucks and followed them into the  siding. 

“Thomas, get back!” Twilight shouted, and then noticed something odd. The words on the sign had changed. Instead of reading DANGER: ENGINES MUST NOT PASS THIS BOARD, it now read DANGER: ENGINES MUST NOT PASS THIS POINT. “That’s odd,” she said. 

Then  there was an ear-splitting crash. The ground suddenly gave way beneath  Thomas, and earth went everywhere. The rails buckled with nothing to  support them, and the 52-ton tank engine fell into a pit that had opened  up. 

“Fire and smoke, I’m sunk!” he exclaimed. And indeed, he was, his buffers inclined down, and pointing straight into the Earth. 

Twilight shook her head. “What in the world possessed you to do something as stupid as this?” she asked, clearly displeased. 

Thomas replied weakly. “Oh dear, I am a silly engine,” he said, which was a rather mundane response given the situation. 

“I saw what happened,” said the voice of Sir Toppham  Hatt, who was watching from a nearby hillside. “It’s a good thing I  stopped by, or else I would have no idea of the mayhem that occurs here  on a regular basis.” 

“Please get me out,” Thomas said. “I won’t do it again.” 

Sir Toppham  Hatt shook his head. “How many times have I heard that before?” he  asked. “I’m afraid we can’t Thomas,” he said. “With the unstable ground,  we can’t get a crane into position to lift you out, but Gordon could  pull you out.” 

“Yes sir,” Thomas said quietly. Truth be told, he didn’t want to meet Gordon just yet, but he had little choice in the matter. 



Gordon flew along the line. Both he and Rainbow Dash were laughing. 

“Well, down a mine, is he?” the big blue engine laughed as they raced along. “What a joke!” 

“Now he knows how we feel!” Rainbow Dash added, before breaking into a fresh laughing fit. 

Rainbow  Dash eased Gordon around the curves of the mine access, and brought him  to a stop just in front of the board. There was Thomas, still stuck,  and Twilight was standing next to the board. 

“I’m so glad you two are here!” she said. “Sorry for wasting your time.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s no biggie,” Rainbow Dash replied. “I’m used to it.” 

“Hello Thomas!” Gordon called. “We’ll have you out in a couple of puffs!” 



As  it would not be safe to pull Thomas out with Gordon directly coupled  up, they ran a winch and linked the cable onto Thomas’ rear coupling.  

“Are you ready?” Sir Toppham Hatt called. “HEAVE!” 

Gordon  then pulled as hard as he could, moving Thomas back out of the pit. It  took a lot of work, but the train wasn’t too heavy, and at long last  Thomas was free of his prison. 

“Only now do I appreciate the irony of the entire situation,” he said. “I’m sorry for being rude to you Gordon.” 

Gordon laughed. “Oh well, you made me laugh. I’m in disgrace, as well you know.” 

“Same,” Thomas replied. “It’s not fun.” 

“In that case,” Gordon said, “shall we form an alliance? You help me, and I’ll help you.” 

“Right you are!” Thomas replied. 

“That’s that settled,” Gordon answered. And buffer to buffer, they headed home.
> Paint Pots and Queens
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas and Gordon, as well as their drivers Twilight and Rainbow Dash respectively, headed for home at Tidmouth  sheds. It had been a long day, as first Thomas had teased Gordon about  falling into a ditch at the start of the week. This had rapidly proven  to be mightily ironic, as not long after, Thomas had fallen into a mine  and had to be rescued by Gordon with a winch, which was a little  embarrassing, but nonetheless a useful experience, as the two engines  had made up and formally become allies. 

“Remember Thomas!” Gordon called. “Together we stand, united we fall. You help me, and I help you.” 

Rainbow Dash groaned. “Gordon, we heard you the first time,” she said. 

“And the sixth too,” Twilight added, who was getting tired of Gordon’s constant rambling. 

“Don;t worry, I’ll remember,” Thomas said. “Buit I hope Sir Toppham Hatt forgives us soon.” 



As they rolled into Tidmouth  yard, they were stunned. Everywhere, decorations and bunting were hung  up and on display, and the workmen were busy. Armed with paint pots and  paintbrushes, they were repainting the shed and the shed doors.  Applejack was lending a hand replacing some tiles on the roof of Tidmouth sheds, whilst Fluttershy had requisitioned the help of some animals to help move some rubble in the yard. 

Elsewhere,  Pinkie Pie was blowing up balloons to be hung from the buildings all  around. Just then, a balloon that had far too much air in it flew away  from her, and she ran after it, shouting; “Look out everyone! RUNAWAY  BALLOON!” 

Fluttershy shook her head. “I don’t think the balloon is out of control, Pinkie Pie,” she said simply. 

Meanwhile,  two of the workmen were chatting. “People from Land’s End to John  O’Groats are going to be visiting for the special occasion!” one of them  said. 

“I know!” the other replied. “My wife runs a bed and breakfast, and they’re totally booked out!” 

“Besides,” the first said once again, “Sir Toppham Hatt must have his hands full with all this planning.” 

“Oh please,” the second laughed. “He’s a confident, hardworking planner. I have no doubt he has this all under control.” 

“What’s all under control?” Twilight asked, hopping off of Thomas’ footplate. 

“Yes!” Thomas said. “What’s this all about?” 

“Shh!” said Percy. “Sir Toppham Hatt is about to tell us.” And all fell silent as Sir Toppham Hatt addressed them from a podium, made entirely of giant LEGO bricks. 

“Ladies,  gentlemen, and engines,” he said. “It is my great pleasure and honour  to inform you that Her Majesty the Queen will be visiting us in the next  few weeks. Now then, on with the preparations!” And with that, he left for his car. 



Rainbow Dash spoke up after a moment. “Who did all the gems on the banners and bunting?” she asked. 

“Why, I did, darling,” Rarity said. “Doesn’t it look splendid!” 

“Just like my shiny red paint!” said James. “We’ve all been polished, and I imagine you will be too!” 

“It didn’t half take her the afternoon though,” Applejack said. “Ah thought fer a moment that it wouldn’t be done until AFTER the Queen had visited!” 

“Oh, honestly Applejack, anybody can do fine!” Rarity exclaimed. “When Sir Toppham Hatt asked me to do that part of the decorations, he was asking for fabulous, and fabulous takes time!” 

“Don’t we all know it,” Rainbow Dash sighed. 



Their thoughts then turned to who would pull the Royal Train. 

“It won’t be me,” Edward said sadly. “I’m too old, and I lack the power for these modern coaches that are so heavy.” 

“I’m in disgrace, so that rules me out,” Gordon sighed. 

James then spoke up. “He’ll choose me, of course!” he said. “I’m the shiniest engine here!” 

“You?”  Henry asked in surprise. “You haven’t even got the tractive effort for  such a train! There’s only one engine he’ll choose, and that’s me!” In a  rare surge of vanity more characteristic of James, he then continued.  “Of course, I’ll get a new coat of paint in the deal as well.” 



A few days passed. The rain started to fall, and fog rolled about the island like a mist. Fluttershy  moved a tarpaulin on top of Henry’s cab in order to keep warm, and  above them a painter was repainting a portion of the overall roof of Knapford station. 

Suddenly,  Henry’s safety valve triggered, and this threw a cloud of steam and  smoke into the air. The painter couldn’t see, and the ladder collapsed  beneath him, causing him to fall onto the tarpaulin below. The paint pot  flew through the air and landed on Henry’s dome, smearing his boiler in  white paint. 

Fluttershy looked out of the cab. “My goodness!” she cried. “Are you alright?” 

“I am,” the painter replied. “But Henry’s gone and ruined my paint! Thanks a lot!” 

Fluttershy  gave him The Stare, and then went to Henry. “I know you didn’t mean it  Henry,” she said, “but you aren’t exactly presentable right now. I’ll  repaint you and-” 

“There’s no time!” said the voice of Sir Toppham  Hatt. “Henry, you look like an iced cake, and that will not be  acceptable for the Royal Train. I shall have to make other  arrangements.” He then walked out of the station, and off toward the  yard. 

Henry sighed. “Oh, the indignity,” he sighed. 

“THAT’S MY LINE!” shouted a voice. 



Sir Toppham Hatt arrived in the yard to see Thomas and Gordon, alongside Rainbow Dash and Twilight, looking anxious. 

“Please sir,” they all said at once. 

“One at a time,” Sir Toppham Hatt said. “Yes, Gordon?” 

“May Thomas have his branch line again?” the big engine said. 

“He’s genuinely sorry over what he did,” Rainbow Dash added. 

Sir Toppham  Hatt thought for a moment. “Both of you, Thomas and Gordon, have  behaved poorly in recent days. However, not only have both of you worked  hard and taken your punishments without complaint, you are clearly  sorry and deserve a treat, apart from my forgiveness.” He paused.  “Edward and Applejack shall go ahead to clear the line. Thomas and  Twilight, I want you to care for the coaches. Do a good job!” 

“We won’t let you down sir,” Twilight replied. 

That just left Gordon. “Gordon and Rainbow Dash,” Sir Toppham Hatt said, “you are to work the special train.” 

Gordon beamed from buffer to buffer. Rainbow Dash’s face lit up like a firework’s display. 

“This...is...so...AWESOME!” she cried, punching the air as she did so. 



The  great day arrived at last, and all the engines and their drivers worked  hard, bringing passengers to and from the mainland to the station.  Thomas and Twilight shorted out their coaches in the yard, and the place  was a hive of activity. 

Just then, Edward and Applejack raced into the station. “Peep peep peep!” Edward called. “The Queen is here!” 

“Please  welcome Her Majesty!” Applejack said, stepping off the footplate. Her  entire family was with her, as her Granny Smith, as well as her mother  and father, had helped with the catering for the occasion, meaning that  every conceivable apple related treat was on offer. 

A young girl with red hair and yellow skin ran over to Applejack. “Ah’m so so excited!” she cried, looking like she would burst with excitement. “Aren’t ya too?” 

Applejack laughed. “Settle down, sugarcube,” she said, rubbing the girl’s hair. 



Just  then, a chime whistle echoed through the station, and all looked in the  direction of the sound. It was Gordon, who rolled into the station with  the magnificence of one of his LNER brethren out on the East Coast Main  Line. His brass work gleamed, his paint shone, and attached to the side  of his smokebox were the Royal Coats of Arms, a lion rampant and a  unicorn. He came to a smooth stop right in front of the red carpet, and  the door was opened by an official guard of the Queen. 

Sir Toppham Hatt bowed in front of her. “Welcome, your Majesty,” he said. 

The Queen thanked him for a smooth run, and asked to see all the engines. 

Just then, Percy and Toby could keep quiet no longer. “Peep peep!” they both whistled. 

“Shhh!!” hissed Henry and James. But Toby and Percy didn’t care. 

“Three cheers for the Queen!” they called. And then the station echoed to the sound of whistles and cheers from the public. 

Once  the visit was over, the Queen spoke personally to Thomas and Twilight,  who had fetched her coaches, then to Edward and Applejack, for clearing  the way for her, and finally to Gordon and Rainbow Dash, who took her  home. 



“God save our Gracious Queen, 

Long live our Noble Queen, 

God save the Queen! 

Send her Victorious, 

Happy and Glorious, 

Long to reign over us, 

God save the Queen!” 



As  the last strains of the National Anthem sounded, no engine or person felt prouder than those who lived on the Island of Sodor, or who worked  for the North Western Railway.
> Cows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edward  the Blue Engine was getting old, and in desperate need of an overhaul.  His bearings were worn, and his cylinders and connecting rods clanked  loudly as he puffed along the line. 

One day, he and Applejack were taking a train of 12-ton fitted cattle vans, as well as a brake van, to market in Vicarstown.  By all accounts it was a lovely day. The sun shone, the birds sang, and  there was not a cloud in the sky. Applejack smiled as she looked out of  the cab. 

“Whoo-ee!” she said with excitement. “This reminds me of summers out in Oklahoma!” 

“Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain!” Edward answered. “I remember that musical coming out in 1944.” 

“So does mah Granny and Grandpa,” Applejack answered. “Ya should chat with them sometime.” 



Unfortunately, as usual, the trucks were being a pain in the firebox back head. “Come along! Come along!” called Edward. 

“Oh!  Oh! Oh! Oh!” the trucks screeched, as the bounced and rattled and  wobbled along the line. Edward responded by pulling harder, and along  they went, a cacophony of clanking and puffing and shouting and  screaming as they raced along the line, the trucks doing their very best  to make life awkward for Edward and his driver. 



Partway  along the line was a field. This field had some cows grazing in it, but  for some reason the field was not properly fenced off from the railway  line. This was a bit of a problem, as the cows were not used to steam  locomotives, or any locomotive of any description for that matter. And  who should come rattling and clanking and wheeshing past as they had their lunch out in the field? 

Yes,  Edward came rolling past on the main line, and the cows were startled  by the incoming noise and steam. They charged out of the field and  across the line moments after Edward had passed, between the third and  fourth van, and the coupling broke. The brake hoses came loose, and the  emergency brakes came on in the remaining trucks and the brake van,  which rolled to a steady and gentle halt a few minutes later. But the  guard, although he had stopped the train safely, was now confronted by a  crowd of angry cows. 

Edward felt a jerk on the coupling, but did relatively little about it, as he was used to trucks and their antics. 

“Bother those trucks!” he exclaimed. “Why can’t they come quietly and behave?” 

“They remind me of the old days back in the States,” Applejack told him. “Sometimes the animals wouldn’t come alon’ quietly, so we had to persuade them usin’ a number of different tricks.” 

“Such as?” Edward asked. 

“Food bribery,” Applejack replied. 

Edward  pondered for a moment. “Well, that wouldn’t necessarily work for  trucks,” he said, “but I suppose something similar could be tried at  some point.” 

They stopped chatting for the moment, as they brought the train to a stop in the transfer yards just beyond Vicarstown  with a gentle application of the brake. Applejack hopped off the  footplate and headed back down the train. Just as suddenly as she had  done so, she ran back up, hollering loudly. 

“Gosh darn it! Those stupid trucks! Ah swear, when they see me Ah’ll give those fools a piece of mah mind!” 

“What’s happened?” Edward asked. 

“Part of the train’s missin’, and back out on the main line! We need ta  go and get it, pronto!” Jumping back into the cab and uncoupling Edward  from his wagons, she pulled him clear of the siding and then reversed  onto the up line, heading along it at great speed. 



Safe to say, they recovered the missing trucks, but by the time they got back to the sheds at Knapford that evening, everybody knew about it and found it most hilarious. 

“Fancy allowing cows to break your train in two!” Gordon laughed. “It’s most undignified!” 

“Imagine  if the express were to break in two like that!” Rainbow Dash snorted.  “Not that it would ever happen, of course, Gordon and me being so  awesome.” 

“Gordon and I,” Fluttershy corrected. “And Edward and Applejack didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“Still,” Henry snorted, “it would be most undignified.” 

“Dingifried?” asked Percy, coming up on one side with some trucks. 

“That’s the wrong season Percy!” Pinkie Pie told him. “HiT haven’t bought the show yet!” And they accelerated away to the sidings. 

“What?” Gordon asked. “Seasons? HiT? What in the world is she on about?” 

“That’s just Pinkie bein’ Pinkie,” Applejack told the big blue engine. 

Just  then, Toby and Flash Sentry arrived, and looked to be most cross. “You  couldn’t help it Edward,” he said sympathetically. “Besides, these two  have never met cows, but I have.” 

“Yeah,  that was quite the ordeal,” Flash Sentry recalled. “It stopped all  traffic on the line for hours, and it was such a nuisance.” 

Applejack  simply opened Edward’s regulator, and they sped away to the shed in  order to rest. “Ah hate them sometimes,” she said, grumpily. 

“They were only joking,” Edward said. “I’ve known them long enough to know they didn’t mean any harm from what they said.” 



A few days later, Edward was working an all stations stopping train to Vicarstown, when Gordon suddenly rushed through Wellsworth whistling rudely. 

“Poop poop! Mind the cows!” he shouted, his whistle sounding as he flew through with an express train. 

Edward sighed. “Now that was meant to cause harm,” he told Applejack. 

“Ah’ll have a word with Rainbow Dash,” she said back to him. 



Meanwhile, Gordon flew along. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he called to the coaches. 

“Don’t  make such a fuss! Don’t make such a fuss!” they replied, annoyed at the  speed at which they were going, which was odd, being MK1s and capable  of up to one hundred mile per hour running. And that stretch was  configured for high speed running, as it was long and straight, allowing  for speeds of up to seventy-five miles an hour. Partway along was a  bridge, and the railway briefly opened up to four tracks. But, looking  ahead, Rainbow Dash spotted an obstruction on the line. 

“Gordon!” she shouted. “Blockage up ahead!” 

Gordon  gasped. “Brakes, driver!” he shouted. Rainbow Dash put the train into  full emergency braking, and the train came to a stop just short of the  obstruction on the line. 

It  was then the obstruction turned out to be a cow. “It’s only a cow!”  Gordon scoffed. “Shoo! Shoo!” He then slowly moved forward, in an effort  to get it to move. 

But  the cow wouldn’t move. She just stood there, unmoving, and mooed at  Gordon. Gordon responded by blowing steam from his cylinder cocks, but  that didn’t work either. 

“Moo!” the cow said. Everyone tried to get the cow to move, but it wouldn’t move an inch. Presently, Henry and Fluttershy arrived on the other line, and came to a stop as well. 

“Oh!” said Henry. “A cow? I’ll soon settle her.” He then blew steam at it. “Be off! Be off!” 

“Moo!” the cow replied. Fluttershy then spoke up. 

“Wait a minute,” she said, hopping out of the cab and heading over to the cow. “What’s your name?” 

“Moo!” 

“I see.” Fluttershy paused. “Why are you standing out on the line? It’s dangerous here!” 

“Moo!” 

Fluttershy gasped. “Oh, that’s awful! I’ll call the stationmaster.” She then headed back over to Henry. 



“Well?” the green Black 5 asked, confused. 

“The cow’s name is Bluebell, and her calf has gone missing. She says if we can get her calf back to her, she’ll go.” With that, Fluttershy took out her mobile phone and dialled the stationmaster at Marron. 

A  few minutes later, Percy and Pinkie Pie arrived with a collection of  vans and stopped at the bridge, to see Bluebell standing between the  rails. With the calf offloaded, the cow was much happier, and the guard  led them away to safety. 

“Not a word! Keep it dark!” Henry said to Gordon, as he pulled away. 

“Agreed!” Gordon added, as he went along on his way as well. 

But that evening, as Rainbow Dash backed Gordon into his berth, a voice suddenly sprung up. 

“Well Ah’ll be!” Applejack laughed. “What a story!” 

“Two big engines afraid of a cow!” Edward snorted. 

“That’s not what happened, AJ!” Rainbow Dash snapped, as she dropped Gordon’s fire. 

“Indeed!” Gordon added. “We didn’t want the poor thing to hurt herself by running into one of us. That would never do on Sir Toppham Hatt’s railway, would it?” 

“Aww!” said Pinkie Pie. “I thought you were going to say the other one.” 

“The other one what?” 

“Oh, you know, the Fat Cont-” 

“SIR TOPPHAM HATT TO YOU!” Gordon stopped. “You see what I mean, Edward and Applejack?” 

“I see,” Edward smiled. Gordon got the sense that Edward saw only too well.
> Bertie's Chase
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day, Edward was waiting to pick up passengers who were meant to be arriving on Thomas’ train. “Peep peep!” he said, frustrated. “Where is Thomas? He doesn’t usually make us wait!” 

Applejack looked out of the cab. She then started to sing: 



“Raise this barn, raise this barn  

One, two, three, four  

Together, we can raise this ba-!” 



“Never mind your barn, irrespective of whether it is racist or not!” Edward exclaimed. “Can you please climb on the cab and look for Thomas?” 

Applejack climbed out of the cab and onto Edward’s cab roof, scanning the terrain as she did so. 

“Can you see Thomas anywhere?” Edward asked. 

“Nope!” Applejack replied, sounding like her older brother. “But there’s Bertie and Spike tearin’ alon’ the road at a frightful speed. Probably on a coach tour or somethin’.” 

“Well,  we can’t wait any longer,” Edward said, as Applejack climbed back into  the cab and sat down in the driver’s seat. “Let’s go!” 

“Right  you are Eddie,” Applejack replied, as the guard blew his whistle and  waved his green flag. With a whistle and a brief release of steam from  the cylinder cocks, they were away and off to the next station. 

Just then, Bertie screeched to a halt at the level crossing as Edward raced over. 

“Wait!” Spike called, as Edward vanished out of view. 

“We’ve  got Thomas’ passengers!” shouted Bertie, as the train gathered speed  and vanished into the distance. But it was no good, as Edward was gone  and out of earshot. 



“Bother!”  said Bertie. “Bother Twilight not coming to work today so Thomas cannot  run his train! Why did I agree to helping with his passengers? I’m such  a fool!” 

Spike  spoke to him as the gates opened. “That’s quite enough, Bertie!” he  said. “Twilight can’t help being ill, and we promised to help get these  passengers to Edward and Applejack’s train. A promise is a promise, and  therefore we cannot break it.” He put Bertie into first gear, and set  off down the road as he did so. 

Bertie  roared along county lanes, his engine thundering as he flew down the  roads and over speed bumps. “I’ll catch Edward or bust!” he cried. 

“Like those things that Jimmy guy catches?” Spike asked. 

“I don’t follow,” Bertie replied. 

“Oh, never mind then.” 



Then  Bertie came to a hill. The modern diesel electric buses with  synchromesh gears could handle these hills easily, but Bertie was an old  mechanical bus with a manual transmission and a petrol engine. This  gave him immense problems on the hills, and he groaned as he raced up  the first one. 

“Oh,  my gears and axles, I’ll never be the same bus again!” he groaned.  “Spike, I would appreciate it if you didn’t jam my gears!” 

“Sorry!” Spike called. “I’m still not used to this manual gearbox!” 

Bertie sighed. “Why ever are they letting kids drive buses these days? It’s sure to cause trouble!” 



But  as they crested the top of the hill, Spike whooped in excitement.  “Yes!” he cried. “I see them, I see them! Edward and Applejack are at  the station!” 

“Held by a level crossing!” Bertie added, as he tore down the hill. “Hooray! Hooray!” 

“Well  done, Bertie and Spike!” shouted the passengers. But they celebrated  prematurely, for as Bertie flew toward the level crossing, the barriers  opened, and then Edward pulled away from the station. 

“Wait! Wait!” Bertie cried. But it was no use. Edward was too noisy, and he vanished once more into the distance. 



Bertie’s  face fell, though thankfully it didn’t fall off. “I’m sorry,” he said  to the passengers. “That teaches me to make promises I can’t keep.” 

“Never  mind,” said the passengers. “You tried your hardest, and we can try  again. Third time lucky, eh?” They then looked to Spike. “Do you think  we can catch Edward at the next station?” they asked. 

“There’s  a good chance we will,” Spike replied, “and we can give it a jolly good  try. The road runs close to the railroad, and we can climb hills better  than Edward.” He paused. Just a second, I’ll ask the station master here.” 

There  was a tense silence as the passengers listened intently to what Spike  and the station master were saying. The spike turned back to them. “Yes,  we can do it!” he said, as he scrambled into the driver’s seat. The  passengers got back on, and Bertie backed up from the level crossing,  roaring onto the road as he did so. 

“Hooray!  Hooray!” cried the passengers, as Bertie bounced along the road at  incredible speed, his engine roaring like never before and rivalling a Deltic  for sheer volume. He flew round country lanes, under bridges over the  valley, and up and down hills at such pace that the passengers bounced  up and down in their seats like ping pong balls. 

Edward stormed up a nearby hill, puffing and panting as he did so. 

“Maybe I do need some repairs,” he said sadly. 

“This hill is too steep! This hill is too steep!”  the coaches complained. But they reached the top at last, and coasted  smoothly down the hill into the last station by the sea, Brendam. “Peep peep!” called Edward. 

“Get in quickly please!” Applejack added. 

The  guard raised his flag, and had his whistle in his mouth, but nothing  happened. Applejack looked back to see what was going on, and in that  moment everything happened at once! 

Bertie  honked his horn repeatedly, and pulled to a stop in the station  courtyard, the passengers scrambling off the train and onto the  platform. Spike got out and went over to the cab. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “We missed you at the last two stations, so we had to run as fast as we could to catch you here.” 

Applejack looked awful as a result. “Sorry Spike,” she said. “We didn’t mean ta give ya a chase an’ all.” 

“We should have waited for you,” Edward admitted. 

“My...fault!”  Bertie panted, his radiator doing overtime to cool his engine down.  “Late at junction! Twilight ill so...we had to take...passengers!” 

Just then the whistle went, and the guard waved his green flag. “Peep peep! We’re off!” Edward called, and steamed away. 

“Three cheers for Bertie and Spike!” called the passengers, as Edward rattled into the distance. 

Bertie then ran back along the road in order to tell Thomas what had happened that day. 

“Thank you, Bertie,” said Thomas with a smile. “You’re a very good friend indeed.”
> Saved from Scrap
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As usual, it was a busy day on the Island of Sodor, and Sir Toppham  Hatt was working both the engines and their drivers hard. It was tough  on some of them, given how old they were, but it was all made worth it  when they were called ‘really useful engines’ or ‘really useful  employees’, or variations on the above. 

One  morning, Edward pulled out of the shed and rolled to a stop next to  Thomas. “I’m going to the scrapyard today,” he said to the little blue  tank engine. 

Thomas looked on in horror. “WHAT? But surely Sir Toppham Hatt would never scrap an engine!” 

“Who’s Shirley?” Twilight asked, confused. 

Percy rolled by, and Pinkie Pie smiled. “Don’t worry Thomas,” she said, “you’ll be the focus of many episodes on that topic.” 

Applejack facepalmed. “Twilight,” she said, “Ah think Pinkie’s weirdness is startin’ ta get ta Thomas.” 

“I’m not weird!” Pinkie Pie said. 

“She’s  just perceptive!” Percy added, as he pulled away. Before the  conversation got even more bizarre, Applejack took the opportunity to  open Edward’s regulator and get away. 



They then came to a place of horror and sadness for most lovers of transportation. The scrapyard. 

A  scrapyard is a place where old machinery is broken down and recycled,  so it can be made into something new. The only problem was, most of this  old machinery, such as cars and lorries, was self-aware, which  effectively led to the place being a crematorium. Once the bits were  broken down, they were loaded into wagons, and engines pulled them to  the steelworks so that they could be melted down and used once more. 

In  the yard lay a surprise for Edward and Applejack. In the yard sat a  piece of old machinery. It had two small wheels at the front, and two  large ones at the back, connected to a steering wheel by chains. It had a  small boiler, a water tank underneath the boiler, and a large flywheel  mounted on the left-hand side. It also had a network of gears connecting  the flywheel to the boiler and rear wheels, and also had a back bunker  where the driver would stand. It looked very sad, and so Edward spoke to  it. 

“You’re not old and broken up!” he said. “What are you?” 

The  machine looked at Edward sadly. “My name is Trevor,” he said. “I’m a  traction engine. Thanks for asking, but forget about me. Next week, all I  shall be is a mass of broken parts. They’re breaking me up next week,  you see.” 

“Well that’s just terrible!” Applejack said. “You look ta have years of life left in ya!” 

“Indeed,”  Trevor replied. “According to my driver, I only need some new parts and  some paint in order to run again. But my owner claims I’m old  fashioned.” 

“Rubbish!” said Edward. “I’m old fashioned, but that doesn’t make me useless. Sir Toppham Hatt says quite the opposite, as a matter of fact.” 

Applejack looked at Tevor. “Who was yer owner?” 

“Farmer Finney,” Trevor answered. 

Applejack nodded. “Thanks, fer that, Trevor. What did ya do in the old days?” 

“All  sorts of things,” Trevor replied. “I was used for whatever was needed,  whether that be ploughing fields, planting corn, hauling logs. Anything  you can think of really. The children loved seeing me at work, and  whenever the town fairs came around, I was always used for rides around  the square.” The traction engine shut his eyes, remembering. “Yes, I  always enjoyed giving them rides.” 

Sadly, Edward and Applejack could stay no longer, and they set off for the main line. 

“Broken  up, what a shame! Broken up, what a shame!” said Edward as they steamed  down the line. “I must do something to help Trevor in any way I can!” 

As  he rolled along, he thought of any friends of his who liked engines.  But none of the ones he thought of would have space for a traction  engine in their collection. 

“It’s a shame, it’s a shame!” he hissed. 

“Ah  know Eddie,” Applejack said sadly. She had been thinking too, in case  any of her friends had room for a traction engine. But much like Edward,  she couldn’t think of any either. 



That evening, after having finished work, Applejack stepped into her home at Sweet Apple Acres. Located on a fruit orchard near Arlesburgh,  it was a large, two story wooden house with red paint and a porch  painted white, upon which a rocking chair sat. There was also a red barn  nearby, with a road leading out of it toward the place where the trackbed of the Arlesburgh branch was, thankfully untouched. Applejack sadly hung her hat up and sat down at the table. 

“What’s  wrong Applejack?” asked her father, Brian MacIntosh, or Bright Mac, a  man with yellow skin, red hair, and wearing a white shirt, a red jacket,  blue jeans, and a pair of brown boots. 

“Ah’ve never known ya this quiet and sad,” her mother added. Pauline Brynna,  or Pear Butter, was the matriarch (for the most part) of the Apple  clan, and was dressed in a blue chequered shirt and blue jeans, with a  pair of brown boots. 

“Well,” Applejack said, “When Ah was out at work today, we went by the scrapyard and saw that they are gonna be breakin’ up a traction engine next week. And he’s in perfectly good shape too!” 

“What’s  all this about traction engines?” asked a voice, as a man with yellow  skin and brown hair with white strands stepped in. He was dressed in a  grey chequered shirt, blue jeans, and boots. This was Goerge Perry, or  Grand Pear to his friends, and he was Applejack’s grandfather. 

“Applejack was just tellin’ us they’ll be breakin’ up a traction engine at the scrapyard next week,” Pear Butter told him. 

“My goodness!” Grand Pear exclaimed. “Applejack, did ya ask the name of this traction engine?” 

“Trevor, and he used ta be owned by Farmer Finney.” 

Grand Pear stepped over to the table. “Tomorra, we’re headin’t ta the scrapyard and buyin’ Trevor!” he said. “Ah’m not lettin’ an old friend die.” 

“Ya know him?” Bright Mac asked. “And isn’t Farmer Finney the fella that Big Mac works for? The one with that shiny new tractor?” 

“Of  course, Ah know Trevor!” Grand Pear smiled. “Back in the old days, Ah  lived on Sodor for a few years, and worked with Trevor for those years.  He’d be perfect here!” 



The  next day, Grand Pear arrived at the scrapyard, and with a large can of  anti-rust spray, not to mention his toolbox, cleaned Trevor up and got  him ready to run. 

“Grand  Pear!” Trevor laughed. “I thought I’d never see you again! Of course,  you’ve aged a bit since we last met, but that’s no problem.” 

“Yer  too kind Trevor,” Grand Pear smiled, as he hopped onto the footplate  and lit Trevor’s fire. They soon had a lovely fire going, and to ensure  he still had what it took, Grand Pear ran Trevor up and down the yard a  few times to ensure everything was in order. 

A  few minutes later, the scrapyard owner came out to see him. “The  traction engine’s yours for fifty pounds,” he said. “It’s a better price  than I could get for him for scrap.” 

Grand Pear didn’t hesitate paying the money, and he headed over a happy man. “Yer safe now Trevor,” he said happily. “You’ll live at Sweet Apple Acres with my daughter, son in law, and mah three grandchildren. Boy will they be excited to see ya.” 

Trevor could only beam, as Edward arrived with a flatbed to take Trevor to the mainline junction and onward to Tidmouth, where the line stopped. 



It  took a little getting used to, but the Apples grew to love the newest  edition to their family, even if he was a mechanical one. The children,  especially the youngest, adored him, and rode on him whenever they got  the chance. He now has green paint and red stripes, and his brass shines  like gold. He is used around site to tow heavy machinery across the  farm, and he makes apple picking a lot easier as he is used to operate  the family shaker. This means they no longer need to hire in a diesel  generator, saving money and time. But the happiest day for Trevor is  always the Arlesburgh  town fair. With a wooden seat attached to his bunker, he gives rides to  the children, under the watchful eye of Grand Pear, rolling up and down  the field and town streets as he gives them untold happiness. 



At  the end of the day, when the other members of the Apple family have gone to bed, you can see him resting in the barn, with his eyes closed.  “Thank you, Applejack,” he whispers to himself. “And thank you Grand Pear. Thanks to you, I have a loving family, and a place to call home.”
> Old Iron
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

To  say Edward was getting old was an understatement. His age, whilst not  young, was not getting any younger, and as a result he frequently ran  late. One day, James and Rarity were left waiting at Wellsworth  station for him to arrive with a connecting train. Edward and Applejack  did eventually arrive, but they were at least 10 minutes late. 

“Late  again?” James asked, fuming. He had been forced to wait for a while,  and he did not like waiting for Edward one bit. Come to think of it  (hey, it rhymes), he didn’t like waiting at all, but that’s besides the point. 

“Honestly  darling,” Rarity said. “I appreciate all you do on the railway  Applejack, but you really need to get your watch fixed. 10 minutes late  really is unacceptable on the modern railway.” 

Applejack laughed. “Well, Southern Railway seem ta get away with it.” 

Edward  smiled at Applejack’s joke, whilst James just fumed and stormed away  into the distance, producing steam and smoke like there would be no  tomorrow. 

Having completed their work for the day, James and Rarity went to Tidmouth  Sheds, and there they went onto the turntable. The turntable rotated  around to allow James to access the correct shed road, and he backed in,  next to where Twilight and Pinkie Pie were busy rubbing down Thomas and  Percy respectively after a long day’s work on the railway. 

James  was still in a bad mood. “Edward is impossible!” he snorted, loudly and  not caring who heard. “He clanks about like a load of old iron, and  makes us late because he runs so slow!” 

Thomas  was shocked. “Take that back!” he snapped. “He’s not slow at all. Why,  he works harder than you do, and he was the only tender engine who  didn’t participate in that silly strike of yours!” 

“Besides,”  Percy added, before James could get a word in edgeways, “Edward isn’t a  load of old iron. He’s priceless, and an asset to the railway!” 

“In  fact,” Twilight added, suddenly going into nerd mode, “by my  calculations, Edward has superior acceleration and a better weight to  traction ratio than you do, which in turn means that he could run faster  than you and beat you in a race any day!” 

“You tell him Twilight!” Pinkie Pie added. 

James  snorted. “Really?” he asked. “I’d like to see him do it.” And he backed  into the shed behind the doors before another word was spoken. 



The very next day, James was working in the yards at Tidmouth when Rarity suddenly felt ill. 

“Jamesy,  I don’t feel so good,” she said to him, as she brought him to a stop  outside the signal box. “Do you mind waiting here whilst I go and check  in with the signalman?” 

“Go ahead,” James replied. “I’m not going anywhere.” He had no idea how wrong he was. 

Rarity uncoupled him from his trucks and went up into the signal box, her face pale. The signalman went to greet her. 

“Hello!” he said. “You don’t look too well.” 

“I have been better darling, I must admit,” Rarity replied. “Do you mind if I call Sir Toppham  Hatt to-” Suddenly, there was a great gurgling noise, and she put her  hand over her mouth, before sticking her head out of the window of the signal box and vomiting. 

“Oi!” shouted a workman. “That’s my lunch you’ve ruined!” 

“Sorry!” she replied, before pulling her head back in. “My apologies sir, that was most unladylike.” 

The signalman nodded, before suddenly looking in shock. “Oi, you!” he shouted. 

For  there was James, running out of the yard at speed, and two boys were  vanishing into the undergrowth. The signalman grabbed the radio and  spoke into it. 

“To all signal boxes on the system,” he radioed. “We have an unmanned locomotive in the section. Halt all traffic on the main line and all other lines. I repeat, we have an unmanned locomotive in the section. Halt all traffic on the main line and all other lines.” 

“What happened?” Rarity asked. 

“I’ll  tell you what happened,” the signalman said. “Two boys jumped onto  James’ footplate and started messing about with the controls. They  jumped off when he started moving and I shouted at them, but now James  is running without a driver or fireman.” 

Rarity  looked shocked. “James, running without a driver or fireman onto the  mainline and into opposing traffic?” she cried. “This is the WORST.  POSSIBLE. THING!” 



Just  then the telephone went, and the signalman answered it. “We’ve got a  solution,” he said to Rarity. “Applejack is coming with Edward. She  wants a lasso and a shunters pole.” 

“Whatever for?” Rarity asked, confused. “This isn’t a cattle stampede!” 

“I don’t know,” the signalman answered. “But I’d advise finding them quickly.” 



Edward  and Applejack arrived a few minutes later, and Rarity hopped up onto  Edward’s footplate with the items requested by Applejack. 

“Please, you two,” she asked. “Save James! No doubt he’s terrified out of his mind right now!” 

Applejack smiled. “Now don’t ya worry Rares,” she replied. “We’ll stop him. It may take a little bit o’ wranglin’, but we can stop him.” She sounded Edward’s whistle, and they were off on their way. 

“We’ll catch him! We’ll catch him!” exclaimed Edward. 



Meanwhile,  James was flying along the line at speed. “What a lark! What a lark!”  he laughed as he flew along the line. He really thought he was being  clever, but in reality, he was only moving because some boys had messed  about with his controls. He soon realised his mistake. 

For  at that very moment, he realised that there was nobody on the  footplate. He was going faster and faster, but he couldn’t stop. “What  shall I do? I can’t stop!” he wailed, as he went faster and faster  still, until everything was flying past as a blur. “Help! HELP!” 

Further  behind, Edward was racing up the track, steam pouring from his funnel  and cylinders and his parts clanking like never before. “We’re coming!  We’re coming!” he panted. But as he flew along, his age started to get  to him, as a large portion of his cab floor collapsed, nearly taking  Rarity with it. 

“Honestly!” Rarity exclaimed, holding on for dear life. “I knew Edward was old, but not the ‘falling to pieces’ type of old!” 

“He’s still got a lot of life left in him,” Applejack replied. “So, he can do this, Ah know it.” 

Suddenly, up ahead, James was visible.  Edward panted loudly, as he put every last ounce of power and steam  into his motion. Just up ahead, they drew level, nearly buffer to  buffer. 

“Steady  Edward!” Applejack called, as Edward bounced over the points to a  station yard. The motion combined with the age of his parts caused the  steam injector handle to come flying off. It sailed through the cab  window and landed on the ground nearby. 

“Well, Ah suppose that part WAS necessary,” Applejack said. 

“Necessary?” Rarity screeched. “This engine is a death trap!” 

Applejack then climbed out of the side of the cab, holding the lasso and shunter’s pole. “Keep Eddie goin’ whilst Ah get the rope ready!” she shouted. 

“OK!”  Rarity called, climbing over to the driver’s position and taking  control of the engine. She adjusted the regulator upward and reduced  cut-off to stabilise the speed. 

Applejack  began to spin the lasso using a force of science that doesn’t even  exist officially. She threw it forward, in an attempt to get it to catch  on James’ buffer. But the first attempt failed. 

Edward’s  safety valve went off, loud and noisy. Rarity called up from the cab.  “I have to reduce speed, or this engine will blow up!” 

“One  last attempt!” Applejack called, the coil of rope whirling around her  head. She then cast it forward, and it caught on the buffer  successfully. “Brakes! Shut off steam!” she shouted. 

Rarity  slammed the brakes on and closed the regulator, before moving over to  the edge of the cab. Then, she jumped across to James’ cab and reduced  steam, applying the brakes as she did so. They day had been saved, and  the two engines rolled into the next station safe, but rather worse for  wear. 

“So, the old iron caught you after all,” chuckled Edward. 

“Or  rather what was left of the Old Iron,” Rarity said. “You left a  considerable portion of yourself all over the track back there.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” James said sadly. “Thank you for saving me. You were splendid.” 

“Aw, thanks James,” Applejack replied. 

“That’s quite alright James,” Edward said. 



Sir Toppham  Hatt arrived. “Bravo!” he said. “A fine piece of work. James, Rarity,  you may rest and then take your train. Edward, you shall receive a full  overhaul, and then return to work.” 



I’m  glad to say all ended happily. The police caught the boys, and their  parents punished them appropriately-by making them work as models for  Rarity’s boutique for the entire month. 

And when Edward returned, the chorus of whistles and shouts was something to behold. Sir Toppham Hatt reckons he will be deaf for weeks!
> Skarloey Remembers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Midway down the North Western main line, between the stations of Kellsthorpe Road and Vicarstown, lies the station of Crovan's Gate. This station is very significant to the railways of Sodor, as it was where the metals of the North Western's predecessors, the Sodor and Mainland, the Tidmouth, Knapford and Ellsbridge, and the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, had all converged. As a result, it had been decided to build the locomotive works here, as it made a perfect place to maintain engines as locomotives were changed over as trains went from one company's railway lines to another. And this works had gradually become larger and larger as time went by, with the facility now boasting two large maintenance shops, a smelting works, an iron and steel foundry, and three erecting shops, each with overhead gantry cranes that moved up and down, capable of lifting an entire engine boiler by themselves. It was here now that the bulk of locomotive maintenance and overhaul was performed, although a handful of jobs still had to be handled by engineering firms on the mainland, such as Henry's repairs after his crash, which had been done at Crewe Heritage Centre due to the severity of the damage.

However, our focus lies with another railway line that sat next to the main line, just outside the works. This railway was much smaller, with rails that were much closer together than those on the main line. In fact, these rails were so close together that the engines were very small indeed. This railway was also very old, having opened more than 100 years earlier, but there were very few on Sodor who actually knew about this railway, or indeed where it went or who its engines were. But one day, one beautiful, summer day, that was about to change.

Sir Toppham Hatt had sent Edward off to the works at Crovan's Gate in order to receive routine maintenance, and Applejack drove him down the line to the works. The sun shone and the breeze blew as the 4-4-0 charged down the track, running light engine until it reached the station by the works. When Edward rolled to a smooth stop, coasting beautifully into the platform, a girl got off the footplate and stepped onto the platform.

The girl had blue skin, a very light blue almost like the sky, and her eyes were of a similar shade, a light blue set against white eyeballs. Her hair was reddish pink in tone, and had this whispy tone to it, as well as a gentle, rolling flow down her back. She wore a red dress with black slip on shoes, and was seemingly very nervous.

"Are you sure it's OK for me to head over there?" she asked Applejack.

"Aw, c'mon Ocellus!" the farm girl replied. "Ya ought ta be fine over at the narrow gauge station! Nobody there bites."

"It'll be a good day, that I am certain," Edward replied. Just then the signal dropped and the foreman called.

"Edward!" he shouted. "You're cleared onto road 3. Stop there so we can do a preliminary check, and then we'll take you into the works for dismantling."

"Yes sir!" the old engine replied, whistling as he did so. "Goodbye Ocellus! Best of luck!" And with that, the engine and the farmer steamed away into the distance.



Ocellus picked her way over the narrow gauge tracks over to an old shed, which had two covered roads and a lean-to that covered the remaining two tracks. She stepped nervously toward it, and looked around. To say Ocellus had confidence issues is an understatement. She was often wracked with anxiety, and was a bit of a worrier. However, she wanted to try and help, and so walked over to the shed, looking around for any sign of life.

Nobody was there. The place was totally deserted. Not a soul was in sight, which spooked Ocellus even further.

"Hello!" said a broad, Welsh voice, from somewhere under the lean-to. "May I ask your name?"

Ocellus jumped ten feet in the air. "Who's there?" she asked, looking around.

"Calm down," the voice said again. "It's only me." Ocellus stepped toward the voice, and saw where it was coming from.

Sitting under the lean-to was an old tank engine, built to the narrow gauge, with a short frame and a curved saddle tank that sat atop its boiler, as well as four driving wheels and two more under its cab. However, the saddle tank did not cover its firebox, next to which sat a pair of coal bunkers, and it had a cab sitting over its cab controls (which was entirely sensible, if you think about it), with two porthole windows to allow the driver to see out. The engine was painted a deep red, with blue lining on his coal bunkers, and he also had a pair of outside cylinders, behind which sat a tangle of valve gear. "My name is Skarloey," the engine said, the voice confirming the engine's identity as male, with a kind smile that radiated warmth and friendliness. "What's your name?"

"I'm Olivia," the girl said quietly. "But you can call me Ocellus if you want. Everybody does around here." She chuckled nervously.

"I take it you are coming to work on the railway?" Skarloey asked.

"Yes," Ocellus replied. "But they didn't tell me about you!"

"I guessed they wouldn't have," Skarloey said sadly. "The manger has just bought two new engines for the railway, which I suppose leaves me somewhat redundant around here. I'm very old, and I need new parts, and as a result they chose to let me rest here until they raise the money to mend me. It's a nice place to rest, I will admit. But I miss Rheneas."

"Who's Rheneas?" Ocellus asked.

"Rheneas is my brother," Skarloey replied. "He and I were built at the same time in 1865. He's old as well, and yesterday they took him away on a lorry to some place on the mainland, Cromford, I think it was. They've taken him to a place called Israel Newton to have a new boiler made. I wish I could have a new boiler made, and some new fittings. I miss pulling trains up and down the line. Even the coaches, although they can be a bit of a handful."

"Do the coaches have names?" Ocellus asked.

"Why, yes!" Skarloey continued. "No proper railway would have coaches without names. Their names are Agnes, Ruth, Jemima, Lucy, and Beatrice. All of them are four wheeler coaches, but Agnes has first class seating, which means she has seats with cushions. The others only have hard wooden benches for passengers to sit on. But we always must have Beatrice. Even though she often smells of cheese and fish, she has a little window so that the guard can sell tickets, and as a result, we cannot leave her behind. Not all the stations on the line are staffed anymore, you know. We don't have the staff these days."

He then continued, a smile forming on his face as he remembered the old days. "Rheneas and I always took turns at pulling the passenger and goods trains. Everybody knew us, and we knew everybody. We whistled to all who came to watch us fly by, which was most days and a lot of people, but the school playground was where we were happiest, watching all the children run over during their breaktime in order to see us steam by with the trains. The passengers always thought they were waving at them."

Both engine and girl laughed at this, before Skarloey continued. "We always took your passengers up to Skarloey Lake, which is a somewhat ironic name, given that 'Skarloey' means lake. The return trip was always pleasant, because the villagers would travel down to the main line in order to do their shopping in Crovan's Gate town. And every single time, we had to wait for Mrs Last, who never arrived at the scheduled arrival and departure times! We would never leave her behind though, it would simply be improper. On these days, most of the carriages were too full, and so the third class passengers travelled in Agnes. This annoyed her to no end. 'First Class Coach, Third Class People', she would complain. I simply told her to stop being a fusspot, which usually did the trick!"

Ocellus smiled, then gasped as she looked at the time. "Sorry Skarloey, but I've got to go now. I'll see you again tomorrow!"

"Thank you for being so respectful, and listening so attentively," Skarloey replied. "I look forward to working with you." As the girl walked away, his eyes closed, and he dreamed of days gone by, of friends past and present. For although things may come and things may go, and whether they go fast or slow, nothing lasts forever. But friendship carries on.
> Sir Handel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The engines of the Skarloey Railway have worked there for generations, but are old and starting to wear out. They need new parts, and indeed one of them has already been sent away for repairs at Cromford, near Matlock in Derbyshire, so that he can be made as good as new. The other is currently awaiting similar repairs, but that may take a while. As a result, the Thin Controller, or Mr Percival to give him his real name, has ordered two other engines from another railway that existed on the Island a long time ago. "I understand," he said to Skarloey one day, "that there is more work than you can handle. As a result, I have brought two new members of crew, as well as two engines. I want you to welcome them. Ocellus?"

"Yes sir?" the girl asked, snapping to attention almost immediately.

"I want you to give our new drivers a warm welcome. Do not let me down."

"Yes sir! Right away sir!" Ocellus got to work furiously polishing Skarloey, to ensure he looked as good as possible.



A few hours later, two saddle tanks with short frames and narrow axles arrived under their own power from somewhere else on the island. The first of them was painted blue with red lining, and had four driving wheels as well as two trailing wheels. He had the number 3, as well as the name 'Sir Handel' painted on his tanks. Driving him was a boy with light blue skin and dark blue hair with yellow highlights. He currently wore black slacks, a pair of grey sneakers, and a blue hoodie.

The other engine was painted green with red lining, and also had four driving wheels and two trailing wheels. He had the number four, with the name 'Peter Sam' written on his tanks. Standing in his cab was a girl, with pink skin and ice blue hair. She wore blue sneakers, blue shorts, and a purple T-shirt. In complete contrast to the other driver, who had a scowl on his face, she was grinning from ear to ear.

Sir Handel surveyed the shed with disdain. "What a small shed!" he grumbled loudly. "This won't do at all. We're much too smart for this small shack."

"Tell me about it," his driver added, sounding bored and positively sarcastic.

"Well I think it's wonderful!" the girl exclaimed. Peter Sam was keen to agree with her.

"I think it's quite nice, and very quaint," he smiled, looking around the yard. He was clearly enjoying being here, and was being respectful as he could.

"Whatever," Sir Handel grunted. "You like everything, if anything you're not discerning enough." Just then, he spotted Skarloey and Ocellus. "What's that rubbish over there, eh?"

"Hey!" shouted the boy. "You should be in school, you know?"

"Shhh!" Peter Sam wheeshed. "That there is Skarloey, and he is famous. I don't know who the girl is, but she could be his driver."

"Wow," the boy drawled sarcastically. "Hiring standards really are going downhill if they're hiring kids now."

Peter Sam then spoke to Skarloey and Ocellus. "Sorry about those two," he said. "They're upset at the moment, but they'll be fine soon. They're quite nice when you get to know them."

Just then, Mr Percival appeared. "Sir Handel, Gallus, you must go to work immediately. There's a passenger train waiting."

"Can't it wait?" Sir Handel asked. "I'm tired, and so is Gallus." Ocellus quickly worked out from deduction that Gallus was the boy driving the engine.

"Yeah, let Peter Sam and Silverstream do it," Gallus added. "They'd love it. Silverstream would find paint drying interesting. Or that time she went photographing stairs."

"I know, right?" the girl replied. It seemed this was Silverstream.

"No, the timetable says it is you two, so off you go," Mr Percival said sternly. "Engines and workers on my railway do as they are told."

Off they went, grumbling all the way. Silverstream hopped out of the cab and went over to Ocellus. "Hi!" she said, extending her hand and shaking Ocellus' so hard it nearly fell off. "My name's Sarah Streeter, but everyone calls me Silverstream!"

Once her arm had recovered, Ocellus replied. "Olivia. But you can call me Ocellus."



Sir Handel rolled into the yard, where the coaches were stored, and didn't like what he saw one bit. "Whatever next?" he asked. "These aren't coaches; they're cattle trucks! The four wheels prove it! Coaches must have bogies to be coaches, you know."

"Ooooh!" the coaches screeched. "What a horrid engine!"

"I don't recall asking for your opinion!" Gallus snapped, as he coupled them up with the chopper couplings.

"It's not what I'm used to, that's for certain," Sir Handel said, as he pulled them to the station at the main line. Trains flew past, and passengers bustled up and down the platform. Just then, Gordon and Rainbow Dash arrived with a semi-fast to Vicarstown.

"Hello!" Sir Handel called. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gordon," the big engine replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sir Handel, who are you?"

"I'm Gordon, who are you?"

"We seem to have got stuck in a loop," Gallus said. "My name's Gerard, but feel free to call me Gallus."

"Rayne," Rainbow Dash replied. "But feel free to call me Rainbow Dash. All my friends do."

"You're an express engine, as am I," Sir Handel continued. "But I'm used to nice smart coaches, not these four wheel cattle trucks."

"I have smart coaches!" Gordon said pompously. "To be precise, Maunsell bogie coaches, painted in a blood and custard livery. Mind you, I don't mind the MK1s at all."

"We must talk more," Sir Handel said. Just then, the guard's whistle went. "Sorry, can't chat, goodbye!" And with that, Gallus opened the regulator and sounded the whistle, and away they went up the Skarloey railway.

Sir Handel blasted along the line, as clouds of smoke and steam filled the air. He arrived at the top station, rather annoyed at the time, and was run around his train to take the passengers back. However, this run would prove to be most eventful. As he climbed out of the station toward the edge of the station approaches, he came to a hill. This hill was very steep, but shouldn't have been a problem to him.

Unfortunately, the coaches had decided to play tricks on him. "Hold back!" they hissed. "Hold back!"

The weight, combined with the steep hill, caused Sir Handel's wheels to slip and slide. He simply got even crosser as a result.

"Come on you!" he shouted. But the coaches only pulled back even harder, and as a result Sir Handel came to a complete stop on the hill.

"This is ridiculous!" Gallus said. "Is all the rolling stock on this railway against us?"

"Beats me if I know," Sir Handel replied. They had to send Peter Sam to rescue the train, and Mr Percival was not pleased with the two of them.

"Behave!" he snapped, and walked off.

"How rude," Gallus commented. "Doesn't even bother to ask the source of the problem." Nontheless, Sir Handel was good for several days!



Then it all went wrong. After having arrived at the station at the lake, creatively called 'Lakeside', Gallus uncoupled Sir Handel and stepped back aboard. "We've got some trucks to collect from the quarry," he said, "so let's go."

"TRUCKS?!" Sir Handel boomed. "I won't!"

"We have no choice in this, manager's orders," Gallus deadpanned, and opened the regulator. A few seconds later, the rails gave way, and Sir Handel derailed just outside the station.

"Told you," the narrow gauge engine replied.

Eventually, they rerailed Sir Handel and dragged him back to the shed. Mr Percival was furious, and boomed at the two of them.

"Your behaviour is quite unnaceptable for an engine of my railway!" he snapped. "You shall stay in that shed until you learn to behave!" and with that, he walked away.

"Well, it wasn't my fault those coaches held me back, or that track was poorly maintained now, was it?" the engine asked. He then saw Gallus looking at him. "What?"

"Sir Handel, do us a favour and please be quiet."
> Peter Sam and the Refreshment Lady
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Handel and Gallus, in the eyes of Mr Percival at least, had been poorly behaved, so had been confined to the shed for several days, at least until their attitude improved. This meant that Peter Sam and Silverstream were busier than ever, having to do Sir Handel and Gallus' work in addition to their own. However, efforts had been made to help them settle in on the railway, which included repainting Peter Sam into the line's house livery of red and blue. The two of them made a perfect pair, as Peter Sam was excitable, and Silverstream was, shall we say, hyperactive. In fact, in terms of sheer energy she gave Pinkie Pie a run for her money, and that took some doing, I must say.

"Anybody would think he wanted to work," Sir Handel said sarcastically from his shed road, as Peter Sam rolled into the yard with some trucks. The blue engine (or rather, soon not to be blue engine as he was due to be repainted) was incredibly bored, with nothing to do at all.

"All respectable engines do," replied Skarloey with his trademark Welsh lilt. "Now mark my words, Peter Sam and Silverstream. Keep calm and carry on, and you'll do well. Very well indeed."

"Isn't that the phrase I see on those old mugs?" Ocellus asked, as she continued polishing Skarloey.

"Yes, it is," Gallus said, sitting around the yard. "Seriously, do you ever do anything other than polish Skarloey?"

"Well, he's not running, so I can't exactly drive him, can I?" Ocellus asked, rolling her eyes as she did so.

Anyway, Peter Sam and Silverstream were so excited they were in no state to listen at all, and set off for the yard to collect some coaches. Peter Sam rolled onto them gently, coming to a precise stop as the couplers engaged. Silverstream hooked the coaches up gently, and away they went.

"He's ever so gentle," said the coaches. "He's so much nicer than that Sir Handel. He just bumps us and calls us names, but this engine treats us properly."

"Thank you!" Peter Sam replied, as they steamed up the line toward the station by the lake Skarloey (or lake Lake). The faster he wanted to go, the longer the journey seemed to take up the line, especially between the stations as the line ahead seemed to stretch out into infinity, going on forever in front of him.

When he finally got back that evening, Henry and Fluttershy sat in the platform with their train to Knapford. This train was already late, with people loudly tutting and checking their watches, and the passengers from the narrow gauge line scrambled out of the coaches and ran over to the mainline train.

Henry sighed loudly. "This simply won't do I'm afraid, you two," he complained. "These people all have places to be, and things to do, and trains to catch to places far away. This is the train the railwaymen call-"

"Henry, that's the wrong episode!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed, as Percy rolled past on a goods train.

"What?" Fluttershy asked, very confused.

"Ignore her," Henry replied. "This simply won't do, and I can't afford to be kept waiting. If you are late tomorrow night, I shall leave without you, and then your passengers will be in a mess!" And with that, he blew steam and snorted away into the distance, his train visible for several minutes, and the noise of his exhaust beat audible for several minutes on top of that.

Peter Sam snorted. "Pah! He wouldn't do that, would he?"

But Silverstream was not so convinced. "What if he does?" she asked, quivering. "That would be terrible. It would be the worst. Possible. THING!"

Peter Sam sighed. "You sound like James' driver." And away he went with the coaches, back to the yard. But in truth, he was a little worried.



The next day, Peter Sam picked up his passengers as he always did. The guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, and they set off down the line. As they rolled along, Peter Sam sang a song, the red saddle tank keeping up his cheerful melody to raise his spirits.

"I'm Peter Sam, I'm running this line, I'm Peter Sam, I'm running this line!"

"Surely it should be 'We're Peter Sam and Silverstream, we're running this line, We're Peter Sam and Silverstream, we're running this line'?" Silverstream asked.

"Silver, that doesn't scan," Peter Sam replied. "I'd need to come up with a completely different melody in order for that to fit." But he soon forgot all about it as he steamed along the side of the lack, past the forest. "Oh, how wonderful it all is," he smiled to himself. On the way, he passed over the bridge over troubled water. Sorry, he passed over the bridge that crossed the falls of Rheneas, or the falls of falls. The coaches were in high spirits too, as they were fond of the pair who took them up and down the line.

Every afternoon, the narrow gauge trains have to wait for an hour at Lakeside, waiting for the boats to come back in from their trips across to the other side. There, near the station, is a little teashop called Sugarcube Corner. They serve tea and cakes there for the passengers and holidaymakers, and it is run by a delightful woman called, aptly enough, Mrs Cake. However, this is simply her nickname. Her real name is Clara Carlton, but everybody refers to her as Mrs Cake due to her skill in producing confectionary. Her husband, a Mr Cake, or Charles Carlton, runs the station buffet at Crovan's Gate, and both are instantly recognisable and valued members of the local community. Drivers enjoy buying her wares, and Silverstream did so this very afternoon.

But soon the waiting was over, and Peter Sam whistled loudly. "Peep peep! Get in quickly please!" He was worried about missing Henry's train, and the potential repurcussions that could bring for not only the passengers, but for him as well.

Then, it happened. According to the Guard, Peter Sam was too impatient, but Peter Sam claims that he heard a whistle and saw a green flag, a story backed up by Silverstream. Either way, he set off down the line, leaving Mrs Cake stranded on the platform.

"Oh no!" Mrs Cake cried. "How will I get home now?"

The coaches were aware of this too. "Stop! Stop!" they cried. "You've left Mrs Cake behind!"

Silverstream slammed the brakes on and brought the train to a stop. "Oops," she said sheepishly, looking very silly.

"Bother," Peter Sam said. "We're sure to be late now." And they started off again, but Peter Sam rushed along the line, not taking the opportunity to sing. He flew along the track, shaking from side to side as he thundered along, his pistons pumping and his wheels revolving round at speeds never before seen. The coaches rocked back and forth, which was not a pleasant experience for anybody onboard. The train clattered into the station just in time, Henry sitting there in the platform.

"Well," the big green engine said, "at least you're on time today."

"Hooray!" Peter Sam cried. "We did it!"

"That's a relief," Silverstream sighed, as she sat back in the cab. But then Mrs Cake went to speak to the two of them, and she did not seem pleased at all.

"Why did you leave me behind?" she asked. "Don't you know there are no proper roads up to that station?"

"Sorry miss," Peter Sam replied, his face falling.

"Henry said he would leave without us if we were late!" Silverstream added, her face one of shock.

Mrs Cake laughed. "Oh, you two!" she snorted. "Henry was only teasing you! He wouldn't leave before you, as it's a guaranteed connection!"

"Well then," Peter Sam said, "I shall have a word with Henry and Fluttershy."

But Henry was nowhere to be seen, nor was his driver. Both had vanished completely.
> Old Faithful
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you journey up into the hills of Sodor, you shall find a little railway that runs up into the hills, past a lake and over a waterfall, and through forests with hot air and wonderful vistas. This line is called the Skarloey Railway, and it is run by three engines and their drivers, although only two of them go out on the line with any regularity. It is a treasure of the island, and nobody imagines how their island would be without it.

Since we last met them, Sir Handel had been repainted into the red and blue livery of the Skarloey Railway, and had been permitted to pull trains again after several day's confinement for poor behaviour. This was his test run, and although the staff of the railway, including Mr Percival, had forgiven Sir Handel, the coaches still had not, and were looking for any excuse to pay him out for his rough running a few days earlier. They were awkward and rude irrespective of whatever Sir Handel or Gallus did, and that was try to be kind to them.

Partway along the line, the railway runs parallel to a farmer's field, where there is normally a fence to prevent the livestock that belongs to the farmers breaking through and running across the line. I say normally, because today the fence had been broken by sheep, who were now milling about on the track and blocking the rails.

Sir Handel tried to stop, with Gallus applying his brakes, but the coaches were having none of it. "He's pushed us! Let's pay him out!" they screeched, and they all clanged together. Sir Handel crashed into the first sheep and was derailed. Luckily, nobody was hurt, but Sir Handel was damaged. Gallus hopped off to inspect the damage.

"That's torn it," he said. "Come on, old boy, let's get you back to the shed."



When they got him back to the shed, the extent of the damage became clear. His front bufferbeam was dented, and the cylinders were out of alignment. This would take a lot of work to rectify.

"No more work for you for a while," Gallus said sadly. "Sorry Sir Handel, I genuine thought that those coaches had changed."

"This means we have no engine," Sir Handel said sadly. "And who is going to pull the train for the special visitors?"

Just then, Mr Percival arrived, and Gallus informed him of what had happened.

"Most regrettable," he said. "We must find another engine at once. But Peter Sam is working higher up the line, so we can't use him."

"What about me sir?" asked a familiar Welsh voice. Mr Percival looked over to see Skarloey looking at him.

"You, Skarloey?" Mr Percival asked. "You haven't run in years! Are you sure you can do it still?"

Ocellus put her rag down, and walked over to him. "The way it seems, sir," she said, "is that we either use Skarloey to run the last train, or we cancel the train and disappoint a lot of people. Skarloey can do it. With a little bit of grease and oil, he can do it. I know it."

Mr Percival nodded. "Very well. But I want you to go with him, Ocellus, and the moment anything goes wrong I'm getting a bus up there. Understood?"

Ocellus nodded. Before long, they had a splendid fire going, and Skarloey rolled out of the yard, his brasswork gleaming, and Ocellus standing proudly at the controls as the engine moved to the station, where the coaches had been left from the previous train. They looked very sorry, and braced themselves for a verbal scolding from Skarloey. And that they got.

"Whatever would Rheneas have thought?" he asked, as he backed down. "I'm ashamed of each and every one of you. Agnes, Ruth, Jemima, Lucy, Beatrice, you should all know better than to bump an engine off the rails."

"But that Sir Handel-"

"I don't care about your Sir Handel!" Skarloey snapped, as Ocellus coupled them up. "You might have hurt your passengers. If you had hurt your passengers, they would have said it was a bad railway. And what would have happened then?"

The coaches quivered in the manner a school pupil being told off would. "W-were sorry Skarloey," they whimpered pathetically, their former confidence gone completely.

The guard blew his whistle, and away the train went. The journey was nice and smooth. Ocellus found she had to do remarkably little whilst driving Skarloey, as the little engine knew all the stations and stiles, crossings and footpaths like no other engine did. He knew exactly where to stop, and what all the stopping distances were for all the various stops on the line. The sun shone and the rails were dry, and Skarloey hadn't felt this happy in years, as many of his old friends turned out to see him pass by, though they were obviously much older than they had been back in the day.

"This is a lovely day," he said happily.

"I agree!" Ocellus smiled. "I'm so glad I took this job."

As they continued up the line, the rails grew steep, and the line got harder and harder to climb. Skarloey began to feel short of steam, but he kept on going regardless. "It'll be better downhill," he said quietly to himself, as he could just roll on the way back. Not only that, but he could rest his cylinders and running gear at the station at the end of the line. But the rails were old and poorly maintained, and his springs hadn't been changed in a long time. There was suddenly a loud bang, crashing noises, and metal flew everywhere. The train ground to a halt as Skarloey suddenly pitched to one side. Ocellus scrambled out to see what had caused the damage. Several of the springs had come free, and the damage was pretty bad.

"I feel all crooked," Skarloey said sadly.

"The springs have gone," Ocellus replied. "There's no way I can repair this here. I'll call the bus and-"

"No!" Skarloey interrupted. "Anything but a bus. I can get them back, and I will."

"If you're sure," Ocellus replied, and got back into the cab, releasing the brakes and gently backing Skarloey back down the line.

At Crovan's Gate station, James and Rarity were waiting with their train to convey the visitors to Vicarstown, where they would catch a ship back to the mainland. Rarity impatiently checked her watch. "Where are those two?" she asked. "We can't wait forever, you know!"

"I agree!" James said. "The later it gets, the tighter our path becomes. Should we go?"

Just then, a great loud clanging and puffing noise started up, and into the station came Skarloey, tilted upward at a 30 degree angle and red in the face from the effort of moving along. The narrow gauge engine looked about in astonishment.

"I've done it," he said, surprised.

"Bravo, Skarloey, bravo!" Rarity called. "There's an engine we can all relate to. If only we were all like him." The passengers scrambled onboard, and the train set off for the mainland.

Everybody came to congratulate the old engine. But he was still worried. "Old engines cannot pull trains like the young ones can," he said. "And I'm sorry I partly ruined your clothes Ocellus with the oil."

"But they can if they are mended properly, and that's what's going to happen to you," Ocellus smiled. "Besides, I can find another dress, but I can never find another Skarloey."
> Percy and the Signal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Percy was hard at work at the yard just outside Knapford, alongside his driver and human friend Pinkie Pie. It was a lovely day, much as most days on Sodor are, and this meant that the sun shone and the rails gleamed. Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and this meant that there was no rain.

"It's a lovely day," he sighed, as he pushed some coal trucks into a neighbouring siding. Pinkie Pie was inclined to agree with him on this very matter.

"Yes indeedally!" she exclaimed. "You know, I'm bored Percy. How about we go and play a prank on one of the big engines for some fun?"

"Sounds like a great idea!" Percy exclaimed. "Let's go!" And he shot forward into the yard. Percy and Pinkie Pie loved playing pranks on the big engines and their crews, as it helped them pass the time. However, since the incident that occurred with the trousers on the luggage trolley, not to mention copious amounts of jam that ruined Sir Toppham Hatt's clothes, they were careful to make sure nobody but their intended target was around at the time. Despite this, their shenanigans often got them into big trouble with Sir Toppham Hatt, not to mention irritated the other engines.

One morning, Percy appeared with a goods train on a section of track that had no buffers, and seemed to terminate in a false wall. Further up the line in a neighbouring siding was Gordon and Rainbow Dash, waiting for their next working. Percy saw his chance and took it.

"Peep peep peep!" he called. "Come on Gordon, you'll be late!"

"You know what'll happen if you two are late Rainbow Dash!" Pinkie smiled.

"Aaagh!" Rainbow Dash cried, taking her seat in the driver's position-only for a loud, sustained farting noise, like a person breaking wind, to echo all around. Rainbow Dash stood up and realised she had sat on a whoopee cushion.

"GOTCHA!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Percy laughed, and then pulled forward to reveal a long line of dirt, smelly coal trucks. He sped off into the distance.

"WHAT CHEECK!" Gordon boomed. "Honestly Rainbow Dash, Percy and Pinkie are out of control these days. We need to find a way to bring them back under control."

Rainbow Dash put a hand to her chin. "You know Gordon, I might just have a way of doing that. Let me talk with AJ first."



Next it was the turn of James, who was resting in a siding and thinking of how splendid he was (which, to be completely honest, was all he ever seemed to do).

Just then, Percy appeared alongside him. "Stay in the shed today James!" he said cheerfully, yet as if he had full authority.

"Oh?" James asked. "Why is that?"

"Sir Toppham Hatt will be coming to see you, that's all." Pinkie Pie grinned with a wide, toothy grin, and then the saddle tank and the driver sped off into the distance as fast as they could.

"Ah!" James exclaimed. "Sir Toppham Hatt clearly knows what a splendid engine I am. He clearly wants me to pull a special special."

Sharon Miller, please get off my keyboard.

Let us see that dialogue again, but with the correct words this time.

"Ah!" James exclaimed, completely unaware of the fact that time had just looped back on itself and suddenly reset. "Sir Toppham Hatt clearly knows what a splendid engine I am. He clearly wants me to pull a special train today."

Later in the day, Rarity came along to light James' fire and get him ready for work. But no matter what she did, she could not get him to move an inch.

"Whatever is the matter Jamesy?" she asked politely. "Did I do something wrong today? Are your coal and water levels below what you expect? Or is it something else?"

James smiled. But the other engines didn't. They had to do James' work as well as their own, and did not take kindly to James taking a day off.

"Try doin' some work fer a change, ya lazy vermint!" Applejack called from Edward's cab, as they rolled by.

"Turn a wheel, will you?" Henry asked, annoyed, as he pulled the coaches past.

"Lazybones!" Gordon grumbled.

"You said it!" Rainbow Dash added.

Eventually, Rarity felt it neccesary to go into action. "James," she said, "either you tell me what is going on here, or I shall take my lipstick to you. And won't you look silly!"

James' confidence melted away like a passing cloud. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed. "Sir Toppham Hatt wouldn't approve when he comes to see me!"

"What?" the fashionista replied. "Whatever are you talking about? Turn a wheel!"

"Sir Toppham Hatt told me to stay here! He send a message this morning, but not in a bottle."

Rarity sighed. "If that was a pop culture reference, I didn't get it. And Sir Toppham Hatt sent no such message."

"But Percy and Pinkie said that Sir Toppham Hatt had told them that he was going to see me!" James answered, desperately trying to save face in the face of things.

"No he did not!" Rarity exclaimed. "Sir Toppham Hatt is away on the mainland for a meeting of the heads of all the Train Operating Companies of Great Britain. There is no way he could have sent such a message!"

"Oh," said James quickly. Then his face went purple with fury. "OHHH! When I find Percy and Pinkie Pie, they will regret ever playing this joke on me!"

But Percy and Pinkie were nowhere to be found. They had rather wisely disappeared elsewhere, but nobody knows quite where.



Sir Toppham Hatt did get back later that week, and he did see James. But not only that, he saw Percy too. To say the very least, they both wished he hadn't bothered.

One day, Percy and Pinkie were not being careful at all. "Hello!" he called over to Gordon and James. "I have been chosen to take a load of coal over to the junction with Thomas' branch line. Sir Toppham Hatt chose me and Pinkie Pie especially for the job! He must know I'm a really useful engine!"

"He knows I'm the gal for the job," Pinkie smiled, putting on a pair of cool shades as she did so.

"More likely he wants you out of the way," James snapped.

Rainbow Dash smiled. "Say, isn't the junction where they've been doing all the track renewal work lately?" she asked.

"Yes, that's right Darling," Rarity replied. "They've taken up the old signals and installed new ones, that are connected to the bracket partway along rather than at one end."

"But I doubt an engine as useful as you would need to know such a thing," Gordon added. Percy felt flattered.

"Aren't those signals you referred to the new backing signals?" James asked.

"Why, yes they are," Rarity replied. "Would you like me to explain?"

"No need," Percy answered. "I know all about signals." But Percy was worried about what would happen if he came to one of these signals, as he had never heard of them before.

Pinkie, however, was a lot more confident. "Okie-dokie-loki!" she exclaimed, and opened the regulator, taking Percy over to his train. "We can handle anything we come across!" And away they went, not noticing Gordon chortling.



A short while later, they came to a stop at a signal, awaiting clearence onto Thomas' branch line. It was set to red, but Pinkie noticed that the signal was connected to the bracket partway along, rather than at the end.

"It's one of those backing signals James mentioned!" she said. As she said this, the signal moved, flying upwards like a gymnast performing a stunt.

"Full reverse!" Pinkie said, adjusting the screw reverser and opening the regulator. Percy began to roll backwards, before the in-cab radio began buzzing.

"Coal train to Ffarquhar, what are you doing? You're going the wrong way!"

"But it's a backing signal!" Percy exclaimed.

"Come again?"

Just then, Gordon rolled to a stop, and Rainbow Dash leaned out of the cab.

"Ha ha ha!" she laughed. "Gotcha!"

"What?" Pinkie asked. "Did somebody just outprank me?"

"There's no such thing as backing signals," Gordon snorted. "That's a somersault signal. We had lots of them back on the East Coast Main Line between King's Cross and York." He then set off again, laughing.

That night, the big engines talked endlessly about signals. They thought it was funny, but Percy, naturally enough, didn't agree.
> Duck Takes Charge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you know what?" Percy asked one morning, as James and Gordon were being prepared for their morning run.

"Know what?" Gordon groaned. He was in a bad mood, and really could do without Percy's nonsense for a morning.

"Do you know what?" Percy asked again, not quite knowing what to expect.

"Honestly Percy!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed. "Why are you asking us this?"

"I agree!" Gordon exclaimed. "I cannot possibly know what what is unless you tell me precisely what what is and will be."

There was a moment of silence. "What just happened?" Pinkie Pie asked.

Percy spoke again before anybody else could. "Sir Toppham Hatt says the work in the yard is too heavy and too much for a small engine like me. He's getting a bigger engine to help both me and Pinkie out with our work."

"Rabbish!" James snapped, somewhat annoyed like Gordon. "Any engine could do it; if you two talked less and pranked less and worked more, this yard would be a sweeter, and happier, and better place."

"Besides," Rarity asked, finishing her work in oiling James' joints, "who would drive this new engine? It's not as if we have any spare drivers going around at the moment."

Percy simply headed off into the yards to collect some coaches, and was grumbling the entire way. "That stupid somersault signal!" he complained, as he went about his work. He was recalling the time he had misread a signal and gone backwards instead of forwards. "Nobody listens to us now," he added sadly. "They think that I'm just a silly little engine."

"Oh, I'm always silly," Pinkie said optimistically. Then her hair deflated. "But I don't think we'll live that one down, ever."

"They order us about, but we'll show them, we'll show them!" Percy exclaimed. But, truth be told, he didn't know how he would show them, or even what he would show them for that matter. By the time the afternoon came, he was utterly exhausted and completely miserable, and rolled to a stop in the platform with some suburban MK1 coaches. Sir Toppham Hatt was there on the platform, and he saw Percy's sad face and Pinkie's lack of energy. So he decided to ask what was wrong.

"Hello you two!" he exclaimed. "You look tired!"

Pinkie panted loudly. "Yes... sir... boy...is... this... work... hot!" she exclaimed.

"It is, Percy added. "To be truthful sir, I'm not sure if I'm standing on my dome or on my wheels."

Sir Toppham Hatt smiled. "You look the right way up to me, Percy!" he laughed. "Cheer up! The new engine arrives tomorrow. He's bigger and stronger than you, and can probably do the work by himself."

Percy looked sad. "Will there be no use for me or Pinkie?" he asked.

But Sir Toppham Hatt had good news. "We have a new harbour being built at Knapford," he said. "The docks at Tidmouth and Brendam are being overworked, and we need to increase capacity. Thomas and Toby are participating in the construction work, and I think you two can help too."

"Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!" Percy exclaimed. Pinkie Pie's hair immediately went back to its usual poofy shape.

"We won't let you down sir!" she cried. "Extra cupcakes for everybody!" And she opened the regulator as she did so, Percy speeding off into the distance.

Sir Toppham Hatt laughed, shaking his head. "She is so random," he chuckled.



The next day, Applejack was out in the yard with a younger girl, who had yellow skin, red hair, and orange-yellow eyes. She wore a green T-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of orange boots with buckles set into the sides of them. She also had a massive pink bow in her hair, and was listening intently to Applejack.

"And that's how, with a lasso of rope, Ah succesfully got the rope around the buffer of James, allowin' Rarity to scramble across and slow James down successfully. Course, there weren't much of old Eddie left at the end of it, but at least he got an overhaul out of it."

"That sounds great!" the younger girl cried. "Ah wish Ah could work on the railway like you!"

"Ya will be able to one day, Sugarcube!" Applejack smiled, rubbing the younger girl's head. "Just ya wait and see."

Behind them, a large engine that was painted dark green rolled into the yard. He was the biggest tank engine anybody had ever seen, with large frames, sandboxes mounted over the front driving wheels, a large brass safety valve cap, a dome, and two large tanks attached to the sides of his boiler. Sir Toppham Hatt walked over to greet him.

"Hello!" he called. "You must be the new engine!"

The engine replied with something unintelligible.

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. He could not understand this engine's accent at all. The engine repeated himself, but the young girl from earlier walked over and seemed to understand him.

"Yer from the West Country?" she asked. "What's yer name?"

"I'm called Montague," the tank engine said, boasting a thick Cornish accent. "However, most engines called me Duck, as I waddled when I ran on the rails. I don't anymore, as those nice chaps at Buckfastleigh fixed me up, but the name rather stuck, and I'm quite fond of it."

Sir Toppham Hatt nodded. "You're a Pannier Tank, aren't you? Paddington depot?"

"Why yes sir!" he replied. "Why sir, may I work with that girl over there? She seems to understand me pretty well."

Sir Toppham Hatt looked over. "What's your name?"

"Ah'm Abigail! Abigail Belinda!" the girl replied. "But most people call me Apple Bloom."

"Would you like to work with Duck?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. "The work will be hard, but if Applejack is anything to go by you Apples will pull through."

"Ah'd love ta! Applejack's mah big sister!" Apple Bloom exclaimed. "Why, this is a dream come true!" She ran forward and scrambled onto Duck's footplate, familiarising herself with the cab controls.

Percy then arrived. "Ah, Percy, Pinkie Pie!" called Sir Toppham Hatt. "I have a new engine for you. His name is Duck. His driver is Apple Bloom. Please show them how we do things here."

"Yes sir!" Percy exclaimed. "Follow me!"

Apple Bloom whooped. "All right! Let's get to it!"



The two engines set to work, and made an impressive job of it. James, Gordon and Henry silently observed Duck and Apple Bloom hard at work, the girl seemingly having been born on the footplate (which was partly true, since she had been delivered on a train).

"He seems a simple engine!" Henry whispered.

"We'll have some fun!" James exclaimed.

Both engines, as well as Gordon, started making loud quacking noises as they rolled past them. One of them shouted "Apples ahoy!", whilst the other blew steam at the duo.

There was so much smoke that Duck couldn't see in front, and Apple Bloom was so stunned she slipped on the footplate and landed on her bottom! "Oww," she moaned.

Percy then arrived, and saw all that had happened. He was cross, but Duck didn't seem to be bothered.

"They'll get bored eventually," he said. "The Castles and Kings at Paddington did that sort of thing all the time. Do they do it to you Percy?"

"Yes," Percy sighed.

"It's really irritating," Pinkie added.

"We little folk have been pushed around fer too long!" Apple Bloom exclaimed. "We need ta put a stop to this nonsense, or else we'll NEVER hear the end of it!"

"I agree!" said Duck. And he whispered a plan to the others.



Sir Toppham Hatt was finishing up his work in his office, and was looking forward to a nice evening in after a long day. Suddenly, he heard a loud, long whistle, and an extraordinary noise.

"Has Gordon's whistle valve gone again?" he asked, as he stepped outside. When he arrived at Tidmouth sheds, he saw an amazing sight.

Gordon, Henry, and James were all parked outside the shed. On the turntable was Percy, calmly blocking it, and Duck was blocking the track behind it. Apple Bloom and Pinkie Pie were engaged in a furious argument with Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Fluttershy.

"Get out of the way!" Rainbow Dash roared.

"No," Pinkie refused.

"STOP THAT NOISE!" Sir Toppham Hatt boomed. "What is going on here? How did this place end up in such a mess?"

"They won't let us in!" Gordon said.

Sir Toppham Hatt went over to Duck. Apple Bloom was by now next to him, and the look of fury on Sir Toppham Hatt's face worried her greatly. "You two, you had better have a good explanation for this," he snapped.

"Beg pardon sir," Duck said calmly, "but I'm a Great Western engine; it's written on my tanks. We do our work without fuss, but with your support sir, could you inform these engines that we only take orders from you."

"That's right!" Apple Bloom added. "The little people and engines have been pushed about by these big bullies fer too long!"

James, Henry and Gordon all began whistling furiously.

"SILENCE!" snapped Sir Toppham Hatt. "Percy, Pinkie, Duck, Apple Bloom, I am pleased with your work but I am VERY disappointed with your behaviour right now. You have caused a disturbance."

The big engines began laughing. But then Sir Toppham Hatt wheeled around. "AS FOR YOU!" he boomed, "YOU caused the disturbance! You have been far worse than them, and Duck is right. This is my railway, and I give the orders!"

Duck was left alone to manage the yard alongside Apple Bloom. They did so easily, but the bigger engines and some of the crews did not forget the night, and began to plot how they would get rid of those two.
> Percy and Harold
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life at the new construction site of Knapford Harbour was immensely hard. Percy and Pinkie Pie worked constantly whilst there, working alongside Thomas, Twilight, Toby, and Flash Sentry (or Brad, as some people had taken to calling him for some reason). Toby was mainly used to support Percy, but sometimes the loads were simply too heavy for the old tram engine, and Percy had to go and fetch them himself.

One day, Thomas came to speak to Percy. "Nice work Percy!" Thomas said. "Sir Toppham Hatt is very pleased with us."

"If we keep working like this," Twilight added, "we'll have the harbour finished in next to no time!"

"Classic Twilighting," Pinkie replied casually.

"Classic Twilighting?" Twilight asked, confused. "You made my name into a verb?"

"Yep!" Pinkie replied.

The line to the docks runs alongside an airfield, which was home to many light aircraft. Percy heard them flying overhead almost every day, but the noisiest of all was a machine that Pinkie told him was called a helicopter. It flew straight over them, producing quite the racket.

"Stupid thing!" Percy exclaimed. "Why can't it go and buzz somewhere else?"

One day, he stopped at the airfield, and got a good look at the machine. It had a long front, and two sliding doors on the side. The cockpit was mounted high up, and the machine had a long boom behind it. It also had a strange pair of arms mounted atop and behind it, which confused Percy. He was painted completely white, and had red lining.

"Hello!" called Percy. "Who are you?"

"Hello old chap!" the helicopter replied. "My name is Harold. Would you perhaps be so dashing as to tell me your name?" He spoke with a clipped English accent typical of RAF pilots in World War 2 movies.

"My name is Percy," the engine replied. "What great big arms you've got."

"Those aren't arms," added an American voice. "They're called propellors." The voice belonged to a boy with light blue skin and dark blue hair, who currently wore a flight suit with blue colour and yellow lines running down it. "They provide upward thrust to allow Harold here to hover."

"What's your name?" Percy asked.

"I'm Soarin'," the boy said, smiling. "I'm Harold's pilot. My real name's Simon, but nobody calls me that except my parents." He looked at Pinkie. "What's your name?"

“I’m Philomena Petricia  Diane Julie Pie!” Pinkie exclaimed. "But call me Pinkie if you want."

"Wouldn't you like to hover?" Harold asked.

"No thank you!" Percy exclaimed. "I like my rails, thank you."

Harold smiled. "Well, I know you chaps helped keep the RAF supplied during the war, but it remains a fact that you wouldn't be able to fly as fast as me. Soarin' is a good pilot, you know."

Soarin' hopped into the cockpit and started Harold's engine. His engines began to whine, and then roar, as his propellors began to revolve with increasing speed. As they reached top speed, Soarin' lifted the elevator column, and Harold lifted into the sky, soaring forward and off into the distance.

"Whoa," was all Percy could say as he watched in amazement.



Later on, Percy fussed into the quarry, where he found Toby and Flash shunting trucks in a siding.

"Hey, Brad!" a workman shouted. "We need some more trucks over here!"

Flash sighed. "The name is Flash Sentry." He glanced over to Pinkie. "Do you have any idea where that comes from?"

"No," Pinkie sighed. "It seems rather silly, to be honest."

"That's funny, coming from you," Toby snorted.

"ANYWAY," interrupted Percy, annoyed at the constant digressions, "that stuck up whirlybird, that Harold, and his pilot Soarin', think I'm slow and out of date!"

"He's right on the slow part," Flash admitted. "You only have a top speed of 35 miles an hour, compared to his 101 miles an hour. But the helicopters and their pilots aren't too bad. There were several in Norfolk when I worked there, and I got on well with the pilots and their helicopters. There were even a few jets, which was a little alarming!"

Percy paid no attention to what Flash was saying, but instead banged into his trucks, was coupled up by the yard foreman, and set off for the harbour.

Toby sighed. "That may not have been the best of things to say, Flash."

"Why?" Flash Sentry asked, as another workman began to wave them down.

"Percy prefers not to give the image that railways are slow, as it damages his pride."

Flash shrugged his shoulders. "Well, one day he's gonna have to swallow it, or else something bad will happen." He released the brakes, and backed Toby toward the waiting trucks.



Percy rocked and wobbled along the line as he sped up the track. Although he tried his hardest to keep going quickly, the truth of the matter was that he hadn't been built to handle such trains on branch lines. Indeed, he'd been built predominately for shunting, and as such lacked the tractive effort to pull these trucks smoothly, hence all the wobbling as he sped along.

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie called out. "UP AHEAD!" she cried. "HAROLD!"

Sure enough, there was Harold, hovering around as usual, nobody entirely sure exactly what he was doing.

"Let's race him and his pilot!"

"Yes, let's!" Percy cried, and started to speed up down the branch. The trucks rocked and swayed as they flew down the poorly maintained track.

Pinkie then seemed to stall. "What was I supposed to say at this point?" she asked. "I vaguely recall something about a bell, but then again there may have been something about the parakeet!"

Pinkie, can you please stop breaking the 4th wall!

"Oh, I remember! Well, I'll be a ding dong dang! There's Harold now!" Sure enough, the Westland Whirlwind was flying down the narrow cutting ahead of them, having to be careful due to the rotor clearance.

"GO FOR IT PERCY!" Pinkie whooped. "YOU CAN BEAT HIM PERCY!"

Percy was having the time of his life as he flew along. This was the fastest he'd ever been allowed to go in a very long time, and made the most of it he could. Pinkie then checked behind them and saw a truck had vanished. "That's wierd."

"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" Percy cried, as he pitched back and forth like a ship on bad waves. The trucks shuddered and groaned as trucks always do, complaining as they did so.

"We don't want to! We don't want to!" they cried, as Percy's rear driving wheels flew off the track, rerailing themselves a moment later. Pinkie checked behind her again to see the missing truck had returned.

"If only the coach in a few episodes' time would do that," she sighed.

"Pinkie!" Percy snapped. "Stop being ridiculous!"

"Awww, but I'm so good at it!"

Harold roared overhead, his engine thundering furiously as he tried to keep pace with Percy, who was weaving back and forth across the track and through S-bends. As he gained height to try and clear the valley up ahead, there was a loud brushing noise in the cockpit.

"Ouch!" Harold cried. "I do say old boy, you wouldn't mind not scraping my fuselage against the trees and other such objects? It tends to be terribly inconvenient."

"Sorry Harold!" Soarin' replied.

Just ahead, the distant warned Pinkie Pie that the harbour was near. "VEGGIE SALAD! VEGGIE SALAD!" she shouted loudly.

"What?" Percy replied. "Brakes, quickly!" Pinkie slammed the brakes on, and the train began to slow down. Luckily, due to the heavy weight, the train was entirely being run using fitted stock, but it still took them a while to slow down. They came to a stop and Pinkie took the opportunity to tighten up Percy's left hand cylinder, relative to the driver.

"You know, the producer should have spotted that goof," she said cryptically.

Percy paid her no attention. "Oh dear," he sighed. "I'm sure we've lost."

Pinkie then shouted excitedly. "WE'VE WON! WE'VE WON! OHMIGOSHOHMIGOSHOHMIGOSHOHMIGOSH WE'VE WONE! HAROLD IS YET TO LAND!"

And there he was, Harold still hovering overhead trying to locate a suitable landing point. Pinkie laughed and began to sing;

"Said Harold helicopter to our Percy you are slow;
your railway is out of date and not much use you know;
But Percy with his stone trucks did the trip in record time,
and we beat the helicopter on our own branch line!"

"With the help of some odd cutting," she added.

Percy was happy, even though his eyes abruptly froze in place. He liked the last one best, and worked especially hard from then on.
> Percy's Promise
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every summer, much like most of Britain, the Island of Sodor is busy, especially so now that 'staycations', as horrible a word as it is, are so popular now. People come to the island in droves to see the sights and ride on the railways of Sodor, and when the weather is good, sometimes there are some places you simply have to be.

Some like the valleys, and others like the mountains. Others like it when the producer cuts seperate takes together and Annie and Clarabel are the wrong way round.

DISCORD!

Anyway, some like the valleys, and others like the mountains. Children and the young at heart, on the other hand, love the seaside. One lovely Sunday morning, Thomas and Twilight rolled along the line that runs alongside the sea. Annie and Clarabel were conveying a Sunday school group to the beach for a day out. Everybody was happy when Thomas steamed into Knapford harbour, and the children got off, barely able to contain their excitement.

"Seaside! We're off to the seaside!" cried one.

"Building sandcastles with buckets and spades!" added another.

"Seaside! We're off to the seaside!" cried the first again.

"We're gonna have a lovely day!" a third interjected, and they whizzed off to the beach.



Twilight put a hand to her chin. "There's a song in that, I think," she said with a smile.

"So do I!" added Thomas. "Twilight comes up with songs all the time. What was that one about procuring a tiara?"

"Hello Thomas!" Percy called excitedly, Pinkie shuffling over in the cab to chat with Twilight.

"It's a hot day, isn't it?" Pinkie asked, producing a massive ice cream from nowhere and starting to eat it. "Want some?"

"It is a lovely day," Thomas replied. "Where are those trucks going?"

"To the wharf," Percy replied. "I wish I could pull passengers rather than these trucks."

"Those passengers are the Sunday School of the Vicar of Wellsworth," Thomas explained. "Unfortunately, I can't take the children back today, but I was wondering if you could take the children back for us."

"Of course I will!" Percy said. "I promise!"

"Pinkie promise?" Pinkie asked him.

"Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye," Percy replied.

"Good!" Thomas replied. "Good luck!"

"Good luck Pinkie!" Twilight called, as Thomas set off on his way back up the line.



Later that day, he saw Harold being fired up. "Sorry, can't talk, I'm on high alert!"

"What?" Percy called. "I can't hear you, your engine is too noisy!"

"SORRY, OLD CHAP?" Harold asked. "I can't hear you, my engine is too noisy!"

"I said I can't hear you, your engine is too noisy!" Percy replied.

Pinkie Pie suddenly took out a megaphone. "PERCY CAN'T HEAR YOU, YOUR ENGINE IS TOO NOISY!" she boomed, the shockwaves from the sound pushing Harold back slightly.

Soarin' cut Harold's engine, and waited for the blades to stop rotating. He then walked over to Percy. "Harold and I are on high alert," he explained. "Bad weather is due, and we may be needed for rescue and recovery. Take it easy on the rails today!" He walked back over, restarted Harold, and they took off into the sky.

"Pah!" Percy snorted. "As long as I have dry rails, I can go anywhere, anyhow, anytime. Goodbye!" he said, despite the fact that there was nobody to say goodbye to. And away he went on his merry way.

Later, Edward and Applejack met them at the junction. "Be careful!" Edward called. "There's a bad storm approaching from the West. It could lead to rain and lightning.

Applejack looked apprehensive. "Ah just hope mah family are OK," she said. "Ah've told Apple Bloom ta get home nice and early, and last Ah heard the family were securin' anchorin' ropes ta the trees with Trevor's help."

Percy sighed. "I understand that you are worried, but I MUST get the children home from the beach. After all, a promise is a promise, and I made a Pinkie Promise on it. So I must not break it!"



The children had a lovely day, but by the late afternoon, around 5, the weather began to turn. The clouds thundered and the rain poured down. Thankfully, the floods didn't come up or else the houses built on the sand would have gone splat, but the children were clear in time and into Annie and Clarabel before too long. Percy backed down onto the train just as the worst of the rain was starting to drench the coastline. Water lashed down his boiler in a torrent. "Yuck!" he said, but set off anyway, thinking of his nice warm shed that was awaiting him.

Percy struggled on through the countryside past coastal villages and waterlogged fields, which had been filled up in support of the European Common Agricultural Policy, which had resulted in many new lakes appearing, and an equal number of confused ducks. His sanders struggled to let him grip the rails, as the weather got worse and worse. The river began to rise, slowly turning into a torrent.

"I wish I could see! I wish I could see!" Percy exclaimed. The water had got in his eyes, making it difficult to navigate. Naturally, Pinkie always had the right clothes for every occasion, and was currently dressed as a sailor equipped for stormy seas, complete with hat. Suddenly, they flew into a dip and straight into an accumulating pool of water that went up to Percy's running board.

Pinkie seemed to be enjoying herself. “HeEeEy!” she said, laughing at the changes in the pitch of her voice as they rolled over the bumpy rails. “ThIs MaKeS mY vOiCe SoUnD sIlIy!”

"This isn't funny!" Percy shouted. "Shut my firebox door, my footplate is starting to flood!" And it was. Pinkie slammed the firebox door shut just in time, and changed into a diving suit to be safe. How she did it nobody knows; her clothes just mystically changed in the nick of time. She jumped out of the cab, into the water with a loud splash, and swam over to the brake van.

"I need some wood from your floor in order to keep Percy's fire going," she said to the guard.

"I only swept it this morning," the guard complained. But he helped anyway, pulling a few of the floorboards up despite the brake van's protests, and handing them to Pinkie. Before long, Percy's fire was burning well, and he felt happy again. You could say he was singing in the rain!

Just then, a loud buzzing tempered his mood. Percy looked up and saw Harold hovering overhead. "Oh no, he's here to gloat," he sighed, before objects began raining from the sky. "Ow! He needn't throw things!"

"Harold's dropping supplies for us!" Pinkie laughed. "At least these ones didn't hit any people unlike in that other episode."

"CHOCKS AWAY!" called Soarin'.

"Glad to be of service, old chap!" Harold exclaimed, and he flew away. Percy continued on into the dark, his boiler pressure dropping all the time. But he never gave up, and he never faltered. He fought on, and climbed on, as hard as he could. The rain threatened to slow him down, but he refused to be beaten.

"I must make, it, I must!" he cried. "I made a promise, and I cannot break it!" And with a last triumphant effort, he rolled into the station where Thomas was waiting.

"Good show!" Thomas called. "You kept time and got the passengers home despite everything nature could throw at you. You are a really useful engine!"

"That's my line!" said a grumpy voice, that of Sir Toppham Hatt. "Harold told me about it all. He says he can beat you at some things, but not at being a submarine. I honestly have no idea what you two get up to sometimes, but I can safely say you are a really useful engine, and you Pinkie are useful too."

Pinkie smiled, and then burst into song.

"'Cause I love to make you smile, smile, smile,
Yes I do!
It fills my heart with sunshine all the while,
Yes it does!
'Cause all I really need's a smile, smile, smile,
From these happy friends of mine!"

And nobody was in the mood to disagree, and despite the rain, it was indeed a happy day on the Island of Sodor.
> Percy takes the Plunge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks had passed since Percy had saved the day, alongside Pinkie Pie, Harold, and Soarin'. One glorious summer day that had turned a bit nasty in terms of the rain, he had successfully braved heavy rain, gale force winds, and even a flooded section of track, which had made him seem like a submarine (which was not yellow, but green with red stripes), in order to get a Sunday School group home to Knapford Junction, where Thomas had taken them onwards to Knapford in order to catch trains to other parts of the Island. Sir Toppham Hatt had also praised their bravery, calling Percy a Really Useful Engine, and Pinkie being described as equally useful, before a rousing musical number had rounded things off.

Unfortunately, this praise had gone to Percy's smokebox. He had become conceited and cocky, and would recite the story of how he had helped Thomas over, and over, AND OVER again. Nobody seemed to notice how the story seemed to change every time he told it, or how many times he had told it. One day, he was telling the tale to a group of engines who were visiting from the mainland, who seemed to be very impressed.

"So," Percy said, dramatically, "there I was, running down this branch line, water swirling all around as the track was flooded. Water went over my tanks, under my boiler, and onto my footplate, threatening to flood my firebox."

"I can second that," Pinkie added, pausing a moment from eating a massive doughnut that was at least twice the size of her hand. How it had ended up in her hand without anybody noticing was a mystery, but some days Pinkie was just Pinkie.

"I couldn't see where I was going, but with Harold's help I struggled on, and at long last I reached the station with the passengers, who were a bit wet, I will admit, but nontheless were safe and dry."

"You just contradicted yourself," said one of the engines, a J94 that was painted orange with cream lining. "How can they be dry and wet at the same time?"

"Ah," Percy replied, not keen to admit he had just commited a logical fallacy. "They were wet at one point, but by the time we got to the station they were dry."

"That makes sense," said another of the engines, a Midland 4F painted blue. "But you sure are brave, Percy."

"It wasn't anything really," Percy replied, doing his best to sound modest. "Water's nothing to an engine with determination."

"Do you want to hear more?" Pinkie asked, with a smile.

"Oh yes please!" the engines called.

Unfortunately, Henry then arrived. Henry was in a bit of a foul mood. He had just been pulling a goods train over from the mainland, which had run late thanks to track maintenance, dodgy signalling, and a 20 mile per hour speed restriction that was in place through Wellsworth for no readily obvious reason. He was looking forward to a rest at the shed, but when he backed in, he saw those two engines and Percy talking loudly with one another, which was a threat to his (in his mind) well deserved nap. He whistled loudly as he backed in.

"What are those engines doing here in a North Western Railway shed?" he demanded. "This shed is for our use only. Be off with you, you silly things!" The engines from the mainland looked sad, but puffed away nontheless. Fluttershy hopped off Henry's footplate to quickly oil him round. Given they were needed to be out again in an hour, it meant there was no time to drop Henry's fire and light it again. As a result, they were doing the maintenance now to ensure they didn't have to do it later.

Pinkie looked over as Fluttershy worked. "Does Henry ever have any fun?" she asked.

"Indeed!" Percy added. "Those engines aren't silly at all!" I am sorry to say he had been enjoying telling the story perhaps a little too much, and Henry noticed this almost immediately.

"They are silly, and so are you!" Henry snapped. "Water's nothing to an engine with determination! I beg to differ. Once, on the Midland and Great Northern Railway, flooded track on the Norfolk coast prevented rail operations for several weeks."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Percy said cheekily. "I have no issue with water; I rather like it. Without it, we wouldn't be able to make steam, and we wouldn't be able to move." He puffed off toward the harbour, singing.

"One day an engine attached to a train, was afraid of a few drops of rain!"

Henry sighed. "I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

Fluttershy sighed as well. "One day, Percy is going to get himself into a big mess over his cheekiness." She tapped off the sanders and oil reservoirs, then stepped back. "All done, Henry!"



Later that day, Thomas was staring absentmindedly at a board. "Now, how did that board get from the quarry at Ffarquhar to all the way down here at Knapford?" he asked.

"Maybe somebody moved it?" Twilight suggested, shrugging her shoulders. Just then Percy and Pinkie barrelled in. "Hello Pinkie!"

"Hiya Twilight!" Pinkie exclaimed. "What are you and Thomas looking at?"

"This stop board," Thomas replied. "It reminds me of an old one I encountered in a quarry near Ffarquhar a few months ago. I made the mistake of going past it-"

"On purpose," Twilight added.

"OK, OK, don't rub it in!" Thomas exclaimed. "I went past it, irrespective of whether I intended to or not, and fell into a mine as the ground gave way."

"I can't see a mine," Percy said.

"Percy, are you being an idiot on purpose today?" Twilight asked. "Just don't go past that board, or bad things will happen!"

"I learned that the hard way," Thomas sighed. Percy and Pinkie didn't know that the harbour foundations were giving way, and as a result one of the former Quays had started to sink. What had once been a level section of line was now a fierce 1 in 23 gradient. An engine going down that had no chance of stopping.

Later that day, Percy made a plan with the trucks. "Will you bump me when we get to the Quay?" he asked, as innocently as he could in order to avoid attracting attention. "Pinkie won't know my plan."

The trucks were used to engines asking them not to bump them, and as a result Percy's request caught them a little off guard. Nontheless, they chattered and giggled about it all the way to the harbour. "On! On! On!" they called, as they rolled through the harbour approaches and toward the section of track.

Percy smiled. "I'll pretend to stop at the station, and then the trucks will push me beyond the board and then I'll stop them." He honestly thought he could control them, the fool. But any wise engine knows that you cannot trust trucks in any capacity.

Just as they rolled to stop before the board, the trucks slammed together fiercely. "Here you go, Percy!" they called, as Pinkie fell of the footplate and landed on the floor.

The entire train slid down the steep slope, now powerless to stop. Percy screamed as he slid uncontrollably toward the water. "That's enough!" he cried, but it was too late. He rolled into the water and stopped, by now very wet indeed.

Pinkie got unsteadily to her feet, trying to process what had just happened. Just then, she saw Sir Toppham Hatt storming over toward her, looking very cross. "Why am I not surprised that you two are behind this stunt?" he boomed.

"I had no idea those trucks were going to bump Percy!" Pinkie retaliated.

"I don't care!" Sir Toppham Hatt thundered. "Percy, I am very disappointed in you, and hereby strip you of your 'Really Useful Engine' status."

"I'm truly sorry Sir," Percy gasped, between mouthfuls of water. "Please get me out."

"We can't do that until the tide rises," Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. "You shall stay there. Hopefully you and Pinkie will learn to behave and follow instructions." He walked away, sighing. "I am surrounded by children."



It took two cranes to lift Percy out of the drink that night. A waiting flatbed, pulled by Thomas, took Percy away for repairs. For her part in the incident, the company wantee to suspend Pinkie for a week, but Sir Toppham Hatt, realising his angry outburst had not helped the situation, got it reduced to a temporary demotion to cleaner (repromoting her a week later). And to add insult to injury, Henry was the one who took Percy to Crovan's Gate.

"Well, well, well!" Henry laughed. "I must say there is something most ironic about this. Did you like the water? No? You need more determination, I see. After all, water's nothing to an engine with determination. Perhaps you'll like it better next time."

"That's enough, Henry," Fluttershy replied, as she opened the regulator. Percy, however, is determined that there won't be a next time.
> Gordon Goes Foreign
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vicarstown station, as the main terminus of the North Western mainline, is a hive of activity. It is here that people change from trains on the Island to trains that will take them to the mainland at Barrow in Furness, and onwards to Preston (via Carnforth), Birmingham and London. Often, these trains are worked by other engines from the other railways. They will stay the night and then go back home the next day on their train. One such evening, an LMS 4-6-0 with a tapered boiler and Belpaire firebox sat in the shed. It was painted green, and had the name Royal Scot on its nameplates, as well as the number 46100 on the cab sides. The engine's driver was currently oiling around, a girl with light blue skin and two tone red hair, wearing a red T-shirt and blue shorts with a pair of green trainers.

Rainbow Dash leaned out of Gordon's cab as she backed the Pacific into the depot after a long run. "Hey," she called. "Are you the driver from the mainland?"

The girl looked over. "Yeah, I'm like totally from the mainland. My name's, like, Veronica George, but literally everyone calls me Valley Glamour."

Gordon spoke up. "Ah, I see. You're an LMS machine. Did you come from London?"

"That's where the tour originated", Royal Scot replied. "Why?"

Gordon smiled. "A long, long time ago, I can still remember when the music used to make me smile."

The girl sighed. "I, like, don't get what song you're referencing so I, like, don't care about it?"

"Bother!" Gordon exclaimed. "Anyway, back in the old days when I was painted green, I used to run into London on the East Coast Main Line quite regularly. Ah, I still remember the station. London is King's Cross, after all."

"No it isn't!" Royal Scot snorted. "It's Euston. It always has been."

Just then, Duck arrived, with Apple Bloom checking behind her as the engine rolled to a stop in the depot. "It is not!" he said. "London is Paddington. I should know. I'm a Great Western Engine, and I worked there as a station pilot for many years alongside many other Pannier Tanks."

Apple Bloom, being the sweet, naive little girl she was, almost immediately got confused. "Ah thought Paddington was a bear," she said.

Duck started laughing. "He's called Paddington because that's where they found him," he snorted.

To add to the confusion, another engine then spoke up. "I thought it was Citadel!"

"That's Carlisle!" Royal Scot replied.

"Paragon?"

"Hull!" Gordon shouted.

"London Road?"

"That's Manchester!" shouted an electric at the back of the shed. "I should know, I worked there regularly."

They argued until they went to bed and the engine crews went away. They argued when they woke up. And they continued arguing until Royal Scot and Valley Glamour went away, to take their railtour back to London.

"This is ridiculous," Rainbow Dash sighed. "Does it matter?"

"IT'S KING'S CROSS!" Gordon boomed.

"IT'S PADDINGTON! PADDINGTON YOU HEAR?" Duck shouted back.

"Are ya sure it ain't Liverpool Street?" Apple Bloom asked. "'Cause somehow that rings a bell."

"NO!" both engines shouted.

"Stop arguing, you lot," James laughed. "It makes me tired. You've agreed on one thing though."

"Namely?" Gordon asked.

"London's not Euston," James replied.

"Besides, It isn't any of those you named," Rarity smiled. "It's Marylebone." And so the debate went on.



Gordon continued to fume for the next few days. "I'm absolutely certain that it's King's Cross, and I shall prove it!"

"We're not cleared for running there, Gordon!" Rainbow Dash reminded him. "For starters, we don't have GSM-R fitted, or ATC!"

"But if I didn't stop, I could go to London," he thought.

That didn't stop Gordon from trying though. Some days he would try to avoid stopping at Vicarstown, where engines were changed, and would try to run onto the main line to Barrow. One time he flew straight through without stopping, before the AWS track magnet stopped him. Another time, he tried to set off before he had been uncoupled from the train by Rainbow Dash. But nothing worked. He never got to London, as he got caught every single time by the station crew, the guard, or the security. "Oh dear," he sighed. "I shall never go to London."

But one day, he was uncoupled from the train as usual, and ran back onto a siding to rest and wait to go back to Knapford. The coaches and passengers waited, but there was absolutely no sign of the other engine that was meant to be taking the train onwards to the mainland.

Just then, a member of station staff ran over and called to Rainbow Dash. "We've got bad news!" he shouted.

"What's happened?" Rainbow Dash replied.

"I don't know, the inspector wants to see you!" came the reply, and he went off again before anybody could ask anything more. Rainbow Dash hopped off the footplate, and went over to the platform.

A few minutes later, she came back with unbridled excitement on her face. "Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh!" she exclaimed.

"What's happened?" Gordon asked, surprised.

"The engine for the express derailed as it was leaving the yard!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed. "It went over a trap point and fell off the track. This means the yard is blocked, which means-"

"Which means we get to take the express to London!" Gordon cried. "Hurrah!"

"Come on buddy, let's go!" Rainbow Dash called, and opened Gordon's regulator. He was backed onto the train and coupled up in moments. The signal dropped, the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, and they were off! Clouds of smoke and steam poured into the air, steam venting from Gordon's funnel and cylinders as he flew along the line, over the Vicarstown suspension bridge and onto the mainland.

"I'm going to London! I'm going to London! I'm going to London!" he cheered. "EXPRESS COMING THROUGH!"

A few days later, Sir Toppham Hatt took a look at a newspaper and nearly fell off his chair in surprise.


FIRST STEAM POWER TO CALL AT ST. PANCRAS IN NEARLY 50 YEARS; POLICE NEEDED TO CONTROL CROWDS


He rushed out onto the platform to see a very sad Gordon sitting there. "What's wrong Gordon?" he asked. "Didn't you enjoy your trip to London?"

"No," Gordon said sadly. "London's all wrong. They've changed it. It's no longer King's Cross. It's St. Pancras."

"We were routed by the Midland through Sheffield," Rainbow Dash exclaimed. "Rails of the enemy. Oh the indignity."

"THAT'S MY LINE!"
> Double Header
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Gordon's visit to the mainland, the media frenzy that resulted (the news dominated the airwaves for weeks, and people had thronged the station of St. Pancras in the hope of seeing another steam engine) had led a lot of people to visit the Island of Sodor, the only part of the UK rail system to still utilise steam engines in every day, revenue earning service. As a result, trains became crowded and overfull, and people were having to stand in vestibules and corridors. This was not much of a change from usual, as the enthusiasts liked to stand there and hold their cameras out to film them whistling along the track. Nontheless, there were silly people and NIMBYs concerned with safety, and as a result Sir Toppham Hatt put an emergency timetable into place, which cranked up the number of trains to such a degree the Island rivalled Clapham Junction for traffic levels.

One day, Gordon flew along the line with the Express. Because of the new timetable, he had to do the run in a fraction of the time he was used to doing it in, and because of this he was very impatient. "Come on!" he shouted to the coaches. "Come on! Come on! We're going to be late, and we can't have that!"

"Take it easy Gordon," Rainbow Dash reminded him. "We're running on time, we don't need to go any faster! Not to mention we're doing the speed limit as it is."

Whenever Gordon finished one run along the line, he almost immediately had to be put on the other end of the train in order to go back again. "Oh well," he sighed. "I enjoy these good long runs along the line. They keep me in shape after all, and allow me to stretch my wheels. I don't want to be like Green Arrow, after all."

"What happened to him?" Rainbow Dash asked, surprised. Gordon had never mentioned a Green Arrow before.

"His cylinder block cracked, so they put him in a museum."

"Yikes!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed. That did sound like an unpleasant fate.

That evening, Sir Toppham Hatt came by, finding Rainbow Dash snoring on the footplate. He sounded a loud hooter.

"Argh!" Rainbow Dash cried, snapping to attention. "Yes sir?"

"I can see that all the hard work you and Gordon have been doing is starting to take its toll," he said. "As a result, I'm giving you two a few days off to recover. In the meantime, James and Rarity shall do your work for you."

"I'll be honoured, sir!" James exclaimed.

"Hey, go easy on him Rares!" Rainbow Dash called. "The express is pretty heavy."

"I know that!" Rarity exclaimed. "Jamesy and I took it one time, remember?"

"I remember all too well," Gordon said, his face glum.



To say that James enjoyed working the train would be an understatement. He flew through stations showing off his bright red paint with golden stripes, and was determined to go as fast as Gordon.

"Slow down James!" Rarity exclaimed. "You can't go as fast as Gordon, and you have a much higher centre of gravity!"

"I can go as fast!" James cried. "Somebody has to be the favourite!"

Rarity facepalmed. "Please don't start bouncing," she sighed.

Later on, James encountered Toby and Flash Sentry (who, you'll remember, was his driver). "Hello Toby!" he called.

"Good morning James," Toby replied. "What brings you here?"

"I'm an important engine, you see," James continued. "Everbody knows that I am regular as clockwork. It is a fact! Never late, always on time."

"Says you," Toby sighed, annoyed. He couldn't stand James' prideful babbling most days.

"Yeah, weren't you held one time because of unfitted trucks with dodgy brakes?" Flash asked. Before anybody could reply, Sir Toppham Hatt arrived.

"Ah, Toby, there you are!" he said. "You need an overhaul, so you must go to Crovan's Gate at once."

Toby looked sad. "Can I take Henrietta sir?" he asked, sadly.

"No," Sir Toppham Hatt replied. "Whatever would the passengers think? Flash, you can stay with Toby whilst he's being repaired and keep him company."

"Yes sir," Flash replied, and climbed back onto Toby's footplate. He opened the regulator and Toby steamed sadly away.

On the way, they met Percy and Pinkie, who had at last returned to work. "Don't worry about Henrietta!" Percy exclaimed. "We'll look after her!"

"Yeah!" Pinkie added. "She'll be fine!"

Toby rolled along the main line sadly. His wheels are small, so he cannot go very fast, and in addition to this his water tanks are of a low capacity. This means that they don't hold much water at all, so he has to stop regulularly to fill up. This means he is poorly suited for long distance running, and is usually confined to branch lines. Just up ahead, a signal was visible. "Good!" he said. "There's a water tower near here! I'll just go and fill up there, then wait in the loop until the train has gone by. Then I can continue on my way and get to Crovan's Gate."

Flash brought Toby to a stop, picked up the hose, and ran it into a connection port on Toby's frames. The tanks started to fill, as they weren't filled in the same manner as on other engines. A hose couldn't be dropped into the top of the tanks due to their being no obvious place to put such a hole. The tanks were half full when suddenly the signalman came over. He was new, and didn't know Toby.

"Oi! Clear the line!" he shouted.

Flash went over to him. "Toby here needs to refill, as his tanks are only half full."

"There's no time!" the signalman replied. "James is calling at the platform and you're blocking it."

"Can't you just move us to the middle track, wait for James to pass, then let us back to the water tower?" Flash asked.

"No!" the signalman snapped. "Now get going! We can't have the line blocked! Get water at the next station!"

Flash shook his head and got onto the footplate, released the brakes, and opened the regulator. "What a jerk," he said to Toby.

"I know, I know," Toby sighed, who was now very sad. The run along the main line depleted his water tanks, and Flash put his fire out in order to prevent damage to the firebox or boiler. They rolled to a complete stop on the line, with no way of moving.

"I'll phone the station," Flash sighed, taking out his mobile phone and dialling the station master.

"Kellsthorpe Road, how can I help you?"

"Hi. This is Flash Sentry, driver of No. 7 Toby. We've stalled on the main line between here and Crovan's Gate."

"I'm halting all traffic on the Up line immediately. James isn't going to like this." The line clicked shut.

Toby sighed. "I bet James won't like this one bit."

He was right. James was furious. "I'll be late!" he said.

"This is my fault," the signalman said sadly. "I didn't understand about Toby."

Just then, Rarity had an idea. "How about James and I push Toby to Crovan's Gate? Then the works engine can rescue him and move him to the works!"

"What?" James exclaimed. "Me, push Toby and pull my train? Honestly, some people are so demanding." And off he went, complaining the entire way. When he found Toby, he shunted into him rudely. "Move it!" he bellowed, and began to push the tram engine along the line, working doubly hard as he did so.

When they got to Crovan's Gate, a huge crowd had assembled. They looked and pointed at the scene before them. "What happened here?" asked a man with a flat cap, as the works diesel recovered Toby and took him away.

Flash smiled. "Well, James broke down and Toby had to pull him into the station. That's why he's so tired."

"What?" Rarity cried. "Flash, don't be ridiculous!"

"Ha ha!" James laughed sarcastically, and vanished in a cloud of smoke.
> Sir Toppham Hatt's Engines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a glorious summer evening on the Island of Sodor. Thomas came to a stop in the station at Knapford Junction with his last train, and sat there whilst passengers got on and off. Twilight opened a water bottle and took a drink, so hot it was, that she was thirsty. Come to think of it, so were the engines, but let's not get into technicalities here.

Percy called over to them. "I've been told to go to Tidmouth Sheds!" he called. "Have you?"

"Yes I have," Thomas replied. "Why?"

"I have too!" Percy said.

"Has a giant cake monster covered all the world's cake in cake?" Pinkie asked, excitedly.

Twilight laughed. "Seriously Pinkie, with all the sugar you eat, I'm amazed you don't feel sick!"

"I wonder what's up?" Thomas asked. Toby then looked up at the sky.

"What's up where?" he asked, suddenly seeing that the set ended just in front of them.

Sorry, I don't know what happened there. "What's up where?" he asked, suddenly seeing the sky.

"Down here silly!" Thomas said. "Not up there at all!"

"Though," Twilight added, "I am told that tonight when the Sun and the Moon sit at 28.1 degrees and 62 degrees respectively, the sky will look utterly dazzling!"

Thomas looked in confusion. "How do you know that?"

"Science," Twilight replied.

"How can something be up when it's down?" Toby asked, by this point extremely confused.

"It's a figure of speech," Flash explained. "It's also the title of a terrible film I saw once. Never again..."

Just then, some whistles echoed from the junction as a pair of steam engines raced by. "Hello Jinty! Hello Pug!" he called.

"Who?" Percy asked.

"Jinty and Pug are from the mainland," Thomas explained. Just then three more rolled by, two tender engines and a tank engine. "A BR Standard 5, a Duchess, and a J94? What is going on here?"

"Sir Toppham Hatt must have something big planned if engines from the mainland are coming here," Twilight said. "Let's go!"

So they went along to the station at the end of the line, where they proceeded further to Tidmouth Sheds. Standing there before them was Sir Toppham Hatt, holding a piece of paper.

"Silence!" he called, in response to all the whistling going on. "I have an important letter to read that has been sent to us by a five year old girl." Silence remained, as he began to read the letter.

The letter read:

Dear Thomas and all the engines,

May I meet you? My friends say they would like to meet you too. We have heard all about you from the stories that kindly Reverend wrote, and you could always come to my house for tea, but my mummy says that there aren't any railway tracks to my house. Can you come to the station instead?

Thank you very much.

Sir Toppham Hatt coughed as he finished reading the letter. "It would seem," he said, "that there are many girls and boys who would like to meet you all. As a result, I have decided to do one better than go to the station. The National Railway Museum at York has agreed to let us use their Great Hall to display you all, to do a meet and greet, if you will. This will disprove those fools who believe you don't exist-"

"Hear hear!" called a voice from somewhere. Sir Toppham Hatt glared in its general direction, and the voice fell silent.

"Anyway," he continued, with a loud voice, "we shall be leaving in a few weeks."

"HOORAY!" everyone cried, and the engines began to whistle loudly.

"SILENCE!" boomed Sir Toppham Hatt. "To cover for the time when you are all away, we have brought in other engines from the mainland to do your work. You may have seen several BR Standards and other designs coming onto the island. These are all engines from many different railways, so please show them our ways and how we do things.



The engines were all very careful to teach the other engines how to do things. As Annie and Clarabel would be going to the National Railway Museum with Thomas, Thomas and Twilight practiced with other coaches alongside an LMS 3F 0-6-0T, or 'Jinty' as he was known. Thomas became more and more excited, I'm sorry to say.

"I'm glad to be going to the mainland, as Sir Toppham Hatt thinks I'm a really useful engine."

"Right," Jinty replied, sounding somewhat disinterested. He cared little for Thomas' talk, and in many ways wanted to go back to his quiet branch line in Yorkshire. But Thomas went on and on.

"You know," he said, one day, "I had a race once with a red bus, Bertie, and his driver Spike."

"As in Spike Milligan?" Jinty asked.

"Same spelling, different person," Twilight replied.

"I flew through the tunnel and stopped within an inch of the buffers. Like this!" Thomas made a careless mistake here, and shot forward.

"Thomas! What are you doing?" Twilight cried. She jumped from the footplate just in time. Thomas crashed into the buffers, which broke apart in the impact, wood and metal flying everywhere. Thomas vanished off the end of the track, and started rolling clean down an embankment, through a wire fence, down another embankment, into a brick wall (and through it), over a road, and into another brick wall, where he finally stopped.

"Oops," he said. "I guess that works better when the buffers are further away."

Jinty rolled his eyes. "Show-off," he grunted. "Does he often crash through buffers?"

Twilight sighed. "This railway is worryingly accident prone," she said. "It's a miracle the Office of Rail and Road don't get involved more often."

Twilight dialled Sir Toppham Hatt, who picked up the phone. "For the last time, I am not sighing in the third person!" There was a pause. "Oh? Thomas had an accident and bent his front bufferbeam? Well, we'll need to get that mended quickly. I'll sent a breakdown crane, but if they can't mend him in time, we'll go to York without him."



Thomas was more surprised than hurt, but felt foolish nontheless. The next morning arrived, and the clock reached eight o'clock (as clocks do at least twice a day). Percy and Toby had been loaded onto flatbeds, Pinkie Pie and Flash Sentry having made sure to tie them down. Duck and Apple Bloom had shunted into place behind Edward, and Applejack had helped couple them together. Gordon, James, Henry, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Fluttershy were waiting to lead off, but there was a crucial engine missing. They whistled impatiently.

"OH COME ON!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed. "Where is Thomas?"

"He could have bashed into some buffers," said Gordon.

"Or dropped down into a mine," James added.

"Or rolled into the ocean 'cause he passed a danger sign," Percy finished.

"I'm pretty certain that was you," Flash said.

Sir Toppham Hatt checked his watch. "We really must be-"

PEEP PEEP PIPEEP!

There, rushing around the bend, was Thomas, rolling to a stop in the platform. "You two," said Sir Toppham Hatt, "nearly made a mess of my arrangements. However, I am of a mind to forgive you both."

"Thank you sir," Thomas said.

"Thanks sir," Twilight added.

Just then the guard blew his whistle. The cavalcade moved off, engines whistling and cheering.

"Let's go!" Gordon called.

"Rock on!" Rainbow Dash added.

"Yay," Fluttershy added quietly.

"This is fabulous!" Rarity exclaimed.

"Scoot yer boot, Duck!" Applejack called. "The big city ain't gonna come ta us!"

"We're comin', we're comin'!" Apple Bloom called. "Big city, here we come!"



The engines were later displayed in the Great Hall of the National Railway Museum, light shining onto their boilers and happy visitors all around. Steps had been built to allow them to access the cabs, and their drivers were more than happy to show them around. It was a wonderful occasion, but eventually the time came for them to go home.

"The other engines did a good job, but not as good as you," the people of the Island said. "There's no engines like Sir Toppham Hatt's engines."

THE END... FOR TODAY AT LEAST.
> Domeless Engines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an important day at Tidmouth sheds, and everybody was excited. People bustled about, trains rolled back and forth, and everywhere you looked, things were happening. On the depot, Duck was just being warmed up and prepared to go to the yard. Apple Bloom was busy making some last minute checks, such as ensuring there was enough oil in the lubricators, and that the machinery was cleaned.

"Well!" the Pannier Tank said, looking around him as his fire simmered nicely. "I wonder what's going on out there? Everybody seems to be very excited!"

"Ah honestly don't know Duck," Apple Bloom replied, as she refilled his sanders and set about polishing his dome. The dome had got a little mucky, and as a result the young girl was keen to ensure that Duck was clean and well kept. "Ah heard somethin' about a visitor, but Ah know not ta listen ta rumours."

Duck smiled. "Now that's the way to do it!" he laughed. "If it is a visitor, I wonder who it could be? Somebody from the mainland?"

Now it was Apple Bloom's turn to smile. "That'd be sweet! Ah've never met a famous person before!" She hopped down from the running board, went over to Duck's cab, and checked the controls and pressure gauges. "Good. We're ready ta go when you are, Duck!"

"Right you are Ma'am!" Duck replied.

Apple Bloom frowned. "Y'all can just call me Apple Bloom," she replied. "It's what everybody else calls me, and Ah don't mind it." She released Duck's brakes, and once the turntable was aligned, the pair set off into the yard, where whatever they were looking for was waiting.

When they arrived at the yard, Duck's jaw dropped in amazement. "Well, I'll be!" he exclaimed, his eyes aglow with wonder. "If it isn't the most famous Great Western engine of all!"

The engine was long, and had four leading wheels, as well as four driving wheels. It had inside frames, which meant that the cylinders and driving wheels were hidden from view, and not only that, it had a magnificent brass dome, like that Duck bore upon his boiler. It also had a low tender, and the frames were painted red, with a green boiler lined in red and yellow. And the tender bore the letters G W R, in formal, flowery lettering, as well as the cabsides having the number 3440. Upon his footplate stood a man with white skin and blue hair, with a blue moustache set in a handlebar configuration. In addition, he wore a grey suit complete with monocle, traditional pocket watch, watch chain, a blue tie, and a waistcoat, as well as a bowler hat. He looked as if he had stepped straight out of the Edwardian age, and he certainly sounded it.

"Why, hello there!" he called over. "Look Truro, it's another Great Western engine!"

The engine, whos nameplate was now visible, was none other than City of Truro. He smiled as he spoke. "Montague?" he asked. "I remember you from Paddington!"

"I couldn't forget!" Duck smiled. "It was such an honour marshalling your coaches for you, and I'll never forget seeing you depart on that trip."

Truro laughed. "That was a lovely trip," he said. "Who's the girl on your footplate? Is she your driver?"

Apple Bloom leaned out. "Howdy Mr. City of Truro!" she called. "Ah'm Abigail. But you can call me Apple Bloom!"

Truro smiled. "A lovely name," he observed. "This man here is my driver. His name is Francis Paul, but most people call him Fancy Pants for some reason. They think he's a snob (which he really isn't)."

Just then, Gordon rolled through, spoiling the moment. "A lot of fuss about nothing, if you ask me!" he shouted. "Go back to the LNER museum where you belong!" And he sped off into the distance before anybody could say anything else.

Fancy Pants rolled his eyes. "And I thought the Castles were bad," he sighed. "Are all Pacifics really that snooty?"

Duck smiled. "You know, the Spam Cans aren't that bad. I once met one called Rebecca who lives at a place called Swanage, down on the South Coast."

"Ah, I miss the Heart of Wessex line," Truro smiled. "I must do a railtour over it some day. But enough of that! We shall talk, for I imagine we have much to catch up on."

Fancy Pants nodded his head. "Miss Apple Bloom, would you care for tea and cake at the Knapford station buffet? I hear that Mrs Allgood does a superb Victoria sponge!"



They spoke for many hours, but the next day Truro and Fancy Pants had to leave for Swindon, on the mainland. Gordon was pleased for him to go. "Good riddance!" he snapped, shattering the optimistic mood. "Talking all night; who is he anyway?"

Duck looked very offended. "That was City of Truro," he replied. "And he's famous?"

"As famous as me?" Gordon asked.

"Even more famous!" Apple Bloom declared confidently. "He was the first engine to go faster than one hundred miles an hour! Before Gresley even designed ya!"

"Oh please!" Rainbow Dash snorted. "That would require that engine to use more steam than the boiler could produce. The first engine that conclusively did one hundred miles an hour was 2750 Papyrus, an LNER engine, may I remind you?"

"And a cousin of mine!" Gordon added. "Besides, he doesn't have a dome. No respectable engine lacks a dome; I can tell you that as a fact. And one hundred! Pah! I could do that in my sleep!" And he wheeshed away.

Apple Bloom looked at Duck. "But Ah thought Truro had a top feed?" she asked.



Later that day, Duck and Apple Bloom went to Wellsworth, where Edward and Applejack were waiting.

"Howdy sugarcube!" Applejack called. "Ah heard all from that Fancy Pants fella how nice you were ta him."

"And City of Truro offered to help me out in the yard when there were too many trucks for me!" Edward exclaimed. "Wasn't he nice, Applejack?"

"Yup, sure was." Applejack then noticed the look on Duck's face. "Somethin' wron', Duck?" Duck then told her what Gordon had said. "Now then, y'all," she said, "Ah wouldn't trust a word of what Gordon says. He just blows a load of hot air about and talks nonsense about stuff he knows nothin' about. Well, phooey to him!"

"Look!" Apple Bloom called. "Here he comes now!"

Sure enough, a three cylinder beat echoed out of the distance, and Gordon raced through on a ten coach train bound for Vicarstown. "He can do it, I can do it! He can do it, I can do it!" he chanted, as he roared through, his coaches rattling and roaring as he flew along. In a moment, he was gone.

Applejack looked over. "Wasn't he goin' a bit fast?"

Duck snorted with laughter. "He'll knock himself to bits!" he exclaimed.



Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash was trying to keep Gordon under control. "Steady!" she called. "We're not running a race!"

"We are then!" Gordon snorted, but little did he know that a certain key part on his boiler, which helped to regulate water flow, was starting to come loose. At last, he reached the big viaduct which spanned a valley, where the wind blew fiercely. And it was here that all fell apart, as his dome cover tore loose and flew into the valley below.

"Well, isn't that ironic?" Rainbow Dash asked. As they arrived at Vicarstown, crowds of people and trucks turned out and laughed at Gordon's misfortune. On the run home, Gordon wanted to stop to look for the dome cover, but there was no time. However, Rainbow Dash promised to fit a new one tomorrow. At the shed, all the engines sat there, watching, and Gordon's humiliation was complete.

"Never trust domeless engines!" said a Cornish voice. "They aren't respectable."

Gordon was in no doubt as to who the voice belonged to.
> Pop goes the Diesel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck the Great Western Engine, as you can probably imagine, is very proud of being Great Western, and talks endlessly about it. But it is not all idle chatter, as he is a hard worker too, and both he and Apple Bloom keep the yard moving like clockwork. It was a splendid day. The sun shone, the rails gleamed, and the coaches and trucks behaved as they were moved about the yard. The passengers even stopped complaining, which was an impressive achievement (something that is yet to be replicated on Southern Rail).

But the engines got cross at having to work hard.

"C'mon engines!" Apple Bloom called. "Hustle yer bustle! These here trucks ain't gonna move themselves!"

"Precisely!" Duck called. "There are two ways of doing things; the Great Western Way, and the Wrong Way. I'm Great Western and-"

"Don't we all know it!" the others commented. They were getting tired of how incredibly cheerful Duck and Apple Bloom were, and still hadn't forgiven them for when they had made Sir Toppham Hatt shout at them for causing a disturbance. One day, Sir Toppham Hatt came to greet the engines, and began to speak.

"Hello everyone!" he called. "We have a new engine arriving on trial today. He will be here in a moment."

Suddenly, a loud horn echoed through the yard, followed by a strange rumbling noise. Over the pointwork, and back onto the turntable, rolled a most strange engine. It looked like a tank engine, but it didn't sound like one! It had a cab at the back, and a great long body running forward to a radiator grill, where pipes and grab handles radiated all around, connecting onto different parts of the engine. He was painted completely black, and had a symbol of a lion standing over a wheel on his sides, under which sat the words 'BRITISH RAILWAYS'. He had a big, oily grin on his face, and made a rumbling noise, not to mention made a strange smell.

"This is Diesel," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "Imaginative name, I know, but it's his name. I want you to make him feel welcome here. He's on trial, as is his driver, so please, Duck, Apple Bloom, show them our ways and how we do things."

Diesel smiled. "Good morning," he said, in an oily voice that echoed of sarcasm and respect (though how the two fitted together was unclear). "I'm pleased to meet you, Duck, Apple Bloom. Is that James, and Henry, and Gordon too? As well as their drivers, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash? I am delighted to meet such famous engines. Blue Peter told me about you when he stayed at Bounds Green depot a few years ago."

Something felt off to Duck. Something seemed as if this engine was trying too hard to earn their trust. But the other engines took no notice, and were flattered. "Oh, he has such good manners," they said. "We are pleased to have him in our yard!"

Duck soon encountered obvious problems with Diesel. Due to his limited gearing, he struggled to keep up with Duck, and could only go at 16 miles an hour. "Hurry up!" Duck shouted.

"Take a break, will you?" asked his driver, a girl whom Duck found immensely irritating. As they rolled to a stop, the driver hopped out of Diesel's cab and walked over to Duck. She had grey skin, and similarly grey hair done up in a pleated ponytail. Her purple eyes darted about suspiciously, and she wore purple boots, a pink skirt with a white stripe at the bottom, a purple blouse with a white undershirt, off of which a strange pendant hung, and had blue glasses over her eyes. Apparently, her name was Sylvia Spencer, but most people called her Silver Spoon due to her pendant, and the fact she'd been born into wealth. Or, as the idiom goes, 'born with a silver spoon in her mouth'.

"Indeed," Diesel added. "Your honourable fat cont-"

"SIR TOPPHAM HATT TO YOU!" Duck boomed.

Diesel continued, without batting an eyelid. "Your worthy Sir Toppham Hatt thinks both me and Silver need to learn. We diesels don't need to learn, as we know everything."

"Do you know how a triple chocolate fudge cake is made?" Pinkie Pie asked, as Percy passed.

Diesel just ignored her. "We come to a yard, and our very prescence makes a yard better. We are revolutionary!"

"Oh yeah?" Apple Bloom asked. "Well, explain how so many steam engines are still in use in industry!" she showed Silver a picture on her phone.

The rich girl laughed in that annoying way she did. "What is that, a giant orange?" she asked. "Besides, steam engines are so last week. Want a fun ride, go with a diesel electric."

"Oh!" said Duck. "If you are so revo-thing-a-gummy, why don't you go and collect my trucks? I'll go get Gordon's coaches, so that'll save time." And he puffed away.

Silver Spoon snorted. "Silly Pannier Tank! He's not a gummy bear!"

When Duck returned, he discovered Diesel had got into difficulties. In the yard is an old siding. In it are trucks that have not been touched in a long time, and have faulty brakes. Diesel was pulling with all his might, but the trucks would not move. "FORWARD!" he shouted.

The trucks screeched in agony. "We can't move! We won't move!"

Silver glanced behind her. "Oh yeah?" she asked. "Let's see how you like 35,000 horsepower!" She pulled the throttle back on the control column to full power.

"We can't move! We won't move!" the trucks shrieked again, their brakes starting to fall apart as Diesel's engine roared. The equipment fell from the wheels and got stuck in the sleepers. Eventually, the parts sheered off completely falling into the sleepers. Diesel shot forward as the couplings broke into pieces, before stopping a few seconds later.

But Duck had seen it all, and sat there laughing. He rolled forward to chat to Diesel. "Thanks for arranging the trucks for me, Diesel!" he called. "I must go now. Have fun!"

Apple Bloom grinned as well. "Seems ya don't know what yer doin', do ya?" she asked. "If ya did, you'd know those trucks ain't been touched for years. So don't go near 'em!"

"Nope!" Duck said.

"But we took all this trouble!" Diesel exclaimed.

"You never asked!" Duck laughed. "As Apple Bloom put it, you should have already known that, being revo-whatever it was you said. Goodbye!"



When Duck went, Diesel and Silver Spoon had to clean up the mess. The trucks laughed rudely, and sang songs.

"Trucks are waiting in the Yard;
Tackling them with ease'll
"Show the world what I can do,"
Gaily boasts the Diesel.

In and out he creeps about
Like a big black weasel
When he pulls the wrong ones out –
Pop goes the Diesel!"

Diesel simply roared at them, and pulled the mess away. Silver, on the other hand, took out her phone and navigated to an app.

"Soon, I'll be the one laughing, farm girl," she said grimly.
> Dirty Work
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diesel and Silver Spoon were sulking. The trucks had witnessed all that had happened in the yard a few days earlier, and would not stop singing rudely about it.

"Trucks are waiting in the Yard;
Tackling them with ease'll
"Show the world what I can do,"
Gaily boasts the Diesel

In and out he creeps about
Like a big black weasel
When he pulls the wrong ones out –
Pop goes the Diesel!"

They even began to sing it in a round!

"Trucks are waiting-
Trucks are waiting-
Trucks are waiting-"

Eventually, Duck had enough. He was sick and tired of Diesel getting so much abuse from the trucks, and decided to do something about it. He charged into the back of the trucks. "SHUT UP!" he roared.

Apple Bloom looked around her. "Ah jolly hope nobody on Common Sense Media heard that," she said.

"What?" Duck asked. "What's Common Sense Media?"

"Ah, never mind," Apple Bloom replied. "At least the trucks are quiet now."

"Sorry about the trucks, Diesel," Duck told them. "That's no way to treat any engine at all, nor their driver."

Silver dropped Diesel's window, and looked out. "Well, that's not much consolation if you look on YouTube," she said, with a video entitled 'Diesel Shunter Fails' currently open. Their mistake was on the internet for all to see.

"Besides, it's all your fault," Diesel said angrily. "You made them laugh at me."

"That's nonsense!" Henry stated. "We may have our differences, but on the whole we respect one another, and would never do anything as horrid as share secrets with the trucks, or spill dirty laundry online for all to see. That would simply be dis-dis-!"

"Disgraceful!" said Gordon.

"Disgusting!" put in James.

"Despicable!" finished Henry.

Diesel hated Duck, and Silver Spoon hated Apple Bloom. Both of them wanted them sent away. Luckily, they already had a plan in that regard. In the few days that they had been there, they had been busy collecting dirt on the engines and people of the island, and planned to use it in a most despicable way. Diesel, on the other hand, planned to tell lies about Duck, and the next morning put his plan into action.

"Good morning," he said slimiliy to the trucks (is slimily a verb? It is now). "I see you all like jokes. Well, you made a good joke about me yesterday. I laughed and laughed. Duck told me one about Gordon, and I'll tell you as well, but don't tell Gordon I told you." And he told them that, and many other things.

The trucks burst out laughing. "Oh, that is a good one! Gordon will be most cross with Duck for bumping us. Let's tell him and pay Duck out!"

The engines were laughed at rudely as they steamed past, and soon they found out why.

"Disgraceful!" said Gordon.

"Disgusting!" put in James.

"Despicable!" finished Henry. "To think that a fellow engine we trusted would do something so horrible and heinous!"

Just then, the phones of their drivers beeped, and Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Rarity all checked their Facebook updates. What they saw horrified them.

"Horrible! Just horrible!" Rarity exclaimed.

Fluttershy said nothing, but simply burst into tears.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, gripped the reverser handle on Gordon's footplate so hard her fingers went white. "Just wait until those two get back," she growled. "They'll learn what happens when you mess with us."

"I concur!" called Gordon.

"Likewise!" said Henry.

"Agreed!" James called. "They'll learn what happens when you spill secrets!"



Later that day, Duck returned to the shed. He and Apple Bloom had had a hard day. The trucks had been badly behaved and rude, and he simply wanted a rest before going out again that evening. He made his way to the shed, but suddenly found that his path was blocked ahead of him! "What's going on here?" he asked.

"You're not coming in, secret stealer!" Gordon boomed.

Apple Bloom was confused. "What's goin' on?" she asked. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, and she checked it. It was a Facebook update, and she opened it to see what it was. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw it. It was a post from a page called 'Anon-a-Miss', which featured as its avatar a crude caricature of herself. Not only that, the page was full of images and secrets.

Gordon the domeless engine! Doesn't he look stupid!

Rainbow Dash; test failer. Learn how to spell!

Henry is so scared of rain he hid in a tunnel once! Do you really want this engine pulling you on your commute?

Fluttershy singing fail!

James the red engine? More like James the rusty!

Learn how to sew, Rarity!

No sooner had she seen this, then she found herself staring into the face of an angry Rainbow Dash.



Later, Sir Toppham Hatt arrived, to hear a commotion going on.

"YOU SPILLED THOSE SECRETS!" Gordon boomed.

"I DID NOT!" Duck boomed back.

"You so did!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "You were around when all those things were discussed, so only you know about them!"

"That's completely ridiculous!" Apple Bloom shot back.

"What's going on here?" Sir Toppham Hatt called.

Rarity pointed. "This here ruffian posted personal information of ours and then called us rude names! Duck did the same!"

"HE CALLED ME A GALLOPING SAUSAGE!" Gordon shouted.

"Rusty red scrap iron!" James added.

"I'm old square wheels!" Henry said sadly.

"Well, Duck?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked.

Duck paused for a moment. "I only wish, Sir, that I'd thought of those names myself. If the dome fits-"

"It weren't us!" Apple Bloom blurted out, trying to prevent Duck from making the situation any worse than it already was.

"Oh come on!" Rainbow Dash shouted again. "When is that little brat gonna stop lying to you? She's Anon-a-Miss!"

Diesel then chimed in. "I must say sir," he said, "that I cannot understand it. That Duck and Apple Bloom of all engines and people would do such a thing; I am grieved, but know nothing."

Sir Toppham Hatt turned back to them. "It's probably best that the two of you go to work at Wellsworth for a while. I'm certain Applejack and Edward will be happy to see you, and hopefully this nonsense will blow over soon."

Apple Bloom, by this point, was choking back sobs. Nobody believed them. "O-OK sir," she stammered, trying desperately not to cry as she got back on Duck's footplate. They headed off for Wellsworth, whilst Diesel and Silver Spoon smirked in triumph.
> A Close Shave
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck and Apple Bloom puffed sadly down the line, and at last arrived at Wellsworth, where Edward was sitting in the bay platform. Applejack had got off the footplate and was having a rest when she saw Duck arrive. "Well, howdy Duck!" she called. "Fancy seein' you here! How are thin's?"

Duck looked sad. "Diesel has been telling lies about us, and made the other engines and Sir Toppham Hatt think we're horrid."

Apple Bloom got onto the platform and stepped nervously toward her sister, who gestured for her to sit on the bench. "Sis," she stammered, "Ah-Ah can explain-"

"There's nothin' to explain," Applejack replied, putting her arm around her. "Yer the victim of a frame job. And when Ah find out who did it, oh boy are they gonna regret messin' with us Apples."

Edward joined in. "I know you both well enough that you wouldn't do such a thing. So does Sir Toppham Hatt, I am certain of that fact. Things will go back to normal eventually, just you wait and see. In the meantime, do you want to help me with these trucks?"

Duck and Apple Bloom enjoyed working with Edward. They would couple to the back of the train going up the hill, and then would help to propel the heavy goods trains up to the top of Gordon's Hill. Then, they would be uncoupled, and run back down the hill to Wellsworth to await another train that needed to go up the hill. Then the procedure would repeat itself, multiple times a day, until the last train went through and all fell silent.

The trucks were rude, silly, and noisy, but to be honest this was not much of a change from the usual. Both engines and their drivers had to work very hard in order to get the trains up the hill to the very top. Eventually, the top was reached, and the points were thrown. Apple Bloom released the brakes on Duck, and they rolled gently over the points to the Up line. They both enjoyed the run down, coasting along, with the wind blowing gently through Apple Bloom's hair and the run being fairly easy. They were almost to the bottom of the slope when suddenly, a frantic whistle could be heard nearby.

It was the whistle of the guard of the goods train they had just banked up the hill. The trucks had broken away from the rest of the train, and were now racing back down the hill towards them. "Hurrah, hurrah!" the called, laughing. "We've broken away! We've broken away!" As they screamed down the hill, one of them worked the others up into a frenzy. "Chase them! Bump them! THROW THEM OFF THE RAILS!"

The sound of clattering wagons and laughing trucks was terrifying, as they continued to race towards them at high speed. Apple Bloom looked back, and saw the brake van of the train getting closer, and closer, AND CLOSER. "Hurry, Duck, hurry!" she cried, and jammed the regulator wide open. Duck flew through the station, with the trucks following just seconds later. They got closer and closer.

"As fast as we can; then they'll catch us gradually!" Duck cried. A few seconds later, the trucks collided with his rear bufferbeam with a bang, causing him to surge forward and gain speed briefly. He was flying along, with out of control trucks, at speeds of up to 50 miles an hour! But Apple Bloom was gaining control of the runaway train. With incredible precision, she applied the brakes. At last, the speedometer began to go down, the needle getting closer and closer to zero. 

"Another clear mile and we'll do it!" Apple Bloom called. They had reduced speed to 30 miles an hour when she looked ahead, and yelled in fright.

"Ah glory, look at that!" she yelled. Ahead of them, sitting in the platform, was a passenger train that hadn't been cleared to depart. If it didn't move off soon, there would be a crash! "It's up ta you now, Duck!" Apple Bloom yelled. "At the very least, make sure we don't hit that train!"

Duck put every ounce of steam and power he had into combating the momentum of the trucks. The brake blocks screeched and his wheels thundered round and round in reverse as he tried to slow the trucks down. As he roared past the red signal, the AWS siren sounded in the cab, and he closed in on the brake coach of the passenger train in front. But they wouldn't stop in time. "It's too late!" he cried, and shut his eyes. But suddenly, he felt himself swerving to the left! Upon reopening them, he discovered that he had been turned off onto a siding nearby, out of the way of the passenger train, which was continuing onwards as if nothing had happened. But worse was yet to come. Up ahead was a barber's shop, positioned right at the end of the siding just across the road. "JUMP!" he shouted to Apple Bloom.

She needed absolutely no prompting, and bailed from the cab, rolling onto the ground with a bang as the pannier tank flew away from her, and crashed through the buffers at the end of the siding. He went into the wall of the barber's shop... and through it... and finally came to a stop, then and there.

It was quite a mess, broken bits of wall and wood lying everywhere. But the trucks didn't care. They were very pleased with themselves, laughing in their silly way.

"Beg pardon sir," Duck said, looking very embarrased. "Excuse my intrusion-"

"No! I won't!" the barber boomed, and grabbed his shaving cream. "You've scared my customers! I'll show you!" and he lathered Duck's face all over. Then Apple Bloom entered.

"What in the?" she asked. "Duck, are ya OK?"

"Who are you?" the barber asked. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"She's called Apple Bloom, and she's my driver," Duck explained. "And, apart from this cream, I feel fine."

Thomas and Twilight arrived to clean up the mess, and brought Sir Toppham Hatt with them. He stepped inside the ruined barber shop, and laughed at the sight in front of him. "I've seen many strange things, but an engine being shaved certainly takes the cake!" he smiled.

"I do not like engines popping through my walls!" the barber fumed.

"Then why did ya build yer shop next to the railroad tracks?" Apple Bloom asked, not unreasonably.

"I appreciate that you are upset," said Sir Toppham Hatt, "but you must understand that this engine, and his driver, have both prevented a serious crash out on the mainline. I would not want a repeat of Quintinshill on my railway, after all. You could say it was... a close shave?"

Apple Bloom and Duck both groaned at the dreadful pun.

"Ah!" said the barber, who filled a basin of water, and delicately removed the shaving cream from Duck's face. "I am sorry, you two. I didn't know you were being a brave engine."

"That's alright sir," Duck replied, as he was hauled out of the structure, which continued to fall apart. "I didn't know I was being brave either."

"Neither did Ah," Apple Bloom added. "Why does trouble always follow me around?"

"You were both very brave," Sir Toppham Hatt assured them. "And when Duck is cleaned and fixed, both of you are going straight back home, to the yard."

Apple Bloom's face fell. "But they hate us," she said sadly.

"Indeed," Duck said sadly. "They don't like me and Apple Bloom. They like Diesel, and that dratted Silver Spoon."

"Not anymore," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "I never believed either of them, and they then tried to tell lies and pin in on Henry. But we caught them them red handed, and sent both of them back to the mainland. That's where they are now, at Bounds Green depot. The other engines and their drivers are very sorry, and want to apologise for how they behaved."

And when they returned home, so rousing was the chorus of whistles and cheers, that you had absolutely no doubt that they adored Duck the Great Western Engine, and his driver, Apple Bloom.
> Trucks!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Skarloey Railway is set in a beautiful valley, filled with trees and beautiful scenery that echoes to birdsong and the sound of wildlife. One day, Harold the Helicopter was flying through the valleys, to ensure that all was safe and that nobody was hurt. Then, just as he was completing his last flypast and preparing to return to his base at Knapford, he suddenly saw something trundling along the track.

The 'something' was an engine, unlike any he had ever seen. It was painted black, with a lowered engine bonnet and a squat cab, inside which somebody was sitting with his foot on a pedal and his hands on a pair of levers. The engine was rolling toward a red signal, and came to a stop as Harold hovered next to it.

"Hello old chap!" the helicopter called. "Who might you be?"

"I'm Rusty!" the engine replied. "I'm a diesel, in case you're wondering. Mr Percival purchased me from my old mine to help out here, and that is precisely what I do."

"I help out too!" his driver said. The driver stepped out, revealing him to be a young boy with light green skin and darker green hair, currently wearing a green T-shirt and shorts, as well as green shoes. "My name's Sam Brown."

"Are you related to Sir Handel Brown?" Soarin' asked, from inside Harold's cockpit, doing his best to make himself heard over the noise.

"Is that the man after whom one of the engines is named?" the boy asked. "I'm not aware of any relation. Most people just call me Sandbar; I was born in a seaside town and one day was found playing near one. The name kinda stuck after that."

"My name's a compression of the words 'Ruston' and 'Hornsby'," Rusty explained. "I met Sandbar whilst they were rebuilding a beach one time, and we struck up a close friendship."

"Well, that is most interesting to know," Harold said. "Well, keep up the good work, cheerio!" and off he flew, back to base.

Rusty sighed. "Cheeky chopper," he said, as Sandbar released his brakes and put him into gear. Like a lot of diesels of his era, Rusty had a manual gearbox, and this made him very hard to drive. Nontheless, Sandbar had driven him for many years, and as a result knew how to get the best out of him.

"Hey, take it easy Rusty," Sandbar smiled. "After all, we're almost home. Then you can have a nice rest."

Sir Handel and Peter Sam, as well as Gallus and Silverstream, were glad not only to see Rusty, but to make some new friends in the process. Even so, Sir Handel simply wouldn't stop grumbling. The trucks disliked him, and with good reason, as he was known to be a rough runner. As a result, they constantly played tricks on him to try and annoy him and Gallus.

"It's not fair!" Sir Handel moaned. "We have to do all this work, whilst Skarloey gets to gallivant off to Pendre and Ocellus effectively gets a holiday!"

"I know, I know," Gallus grumbled. Skarloey had been sent to the Talyllyn Railway to be mended, which is partly why Rusty was acquired. Although Ocellus technically had no engine to drive, she still came in each day to help out.

They were so annoyed they didn't hear Gordon coming up behind them, and jumped when he started speaking. "Nobody understands us, you see," he said importantly. "If both of you were ill, you couldn't shunt trucks, could you?"

Gallus groaned. "There's no way I could fake illness. Grandpa Gruff's a living lie detector!"

Sir Handel, on the other hand, smiled. "I can fake being ill," he said. "That way, you can stay down here and 'mend' me, and stay in the shade all day!"

Gallus smiled. "Shall we do it tomorrow?"

Gordon then pulled away, with a smile. "Er, Gordon?" Rainbow Dash asked. "What were you and Sir Handel discussing?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Gordon answered, as he rolled down the line.



The next day, the engine and human put their plan into action. Sir Handel groaned as he woke up. "I don't feel well," he moaned, as Mr Percival looked at him suspiciously.

"He's right, you know," Gallus said, looking inside the engine from under the frames. "The tubes are leaking. It'll take me most of the day to fix them."

Mr Percival sighed. "With only two engines, we'll have quite the timetabling headache. There's no time; get Peter Sam and Rusty to take the train up the line to the quarry."

Silverstream excitedly coupled the coaches and trucks to Peter Sam. "We're going to the quarry!" she sang cheerfully. "I've never been there! What's it like?"

"It's magnificent," Peter Sam replied. "It reminds me of the one on my old-" he then stopped. "Never mind, I'm certain you'll like it, Silverstream." After the pair had completed their passenger run, they took the first of the slate wagons to the quarry that lay beyond the top station, with Rusty following soon behind with the remaining trucks for the slate.

Now then, it is not possible for the engines to pull the trucks up to the top of the quarry. The rails are steep, and an engine could not get grip. Instead, they are attached to a steel cable, and pulled up the hillside to where they are needed. A large drum pulls them up, but in order to ensure they ascend at a constant speed, they are counterbalanced by other trucks coming down the hill. This is meant to prevent the heavier ones running away down the hill... in theory.

At the end of the day, Peter Sam and Silverstream waited at the bottom of the slope for the loaded trucks to be moved into position. The empties had already been attached to the rope, and the cable tightened as the drum went into action. Peter Sam never bumped trucks unless they misbehaved, but the trucks at the top couldn't see Peter Sam properly, and as a result thought that he was Sir Handel. As both of them were painted red, it was very hard to tell them apart from far away.

"Faster! Faster!" the trucks going down yelled, in their stupid way. "Let's pay him out!"

"No! No!" cried the ones going up. "It's Peter Sam! It's Peter Sam!" But it was too late, and the coupling on the incline snapped. The loaded trucks roared down the hill, and the empties rolled back.

"HURRAH! HURRAH!" cried the trucks.

Peter Sam looked on in horror. "Silverstream, jump!" he cried. "Those idiots are coming straight for us!"

She jumped from the footplate just in time. The leading truck smashed into Peter Sam, spilling slate all over him, whilst the second truck telescoped into the first, breaking apart in the process. The third flew through the air, and demolished a water channel that ran to the pumping engine, so water spilled all over Peter Sam and made him look a complete mess. "I didn't expect a cold bath!" he cried, as Silverstream ran back over.

"Oh my goodness! Are you OK?" she cried, as she began pulling the wreckage off of him. His tanks were badly dented, and his funnel was bent from the force of the impact caused by flying slate. Rusty, luckily, had been working in the area, and he and Sandbar came to help clear the mess.

"My goodness!" the diesel exclaimed. "Trucks can make quite the mess. Never mind, we'll soon have you out." As he said this, he began to pull the damaged trucks away. Sandbar helped clean the wreckage off of Peter Sam, and then they towed the stricken engine home. Luckily, Silverstream was unhurt, just somewhat upset over seeing her friend so badly damaged.

"Thanks for the help, Rusty," the tank engine sighed, as Silverstream eased open his regulator and helped him home. Gallus was shocked to see the mess that Peter Sam was in.

"Are you alright, Silverstream?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

"None of the debris came my way, so I'm OK," the girl replied. "But Peter Sam's gonna need a lot of repairs."

"I'd have stayed further back," Sir Handel suggested.

"That's a fat load of use when you're down here!" Peter Sam snapped. "Why didn't you warn me?"

Sir Handel looked down. "I didn't think."

"You never do!" snapped the voice of Mr Percival. "Both you and Gallus can do plenty of it, whilst doing both your own and Peter Sam's work. That'll teach you to bunk off."

Gallus blinked. "He's holding us responsible for the actions of three idiot trucks?"

There was a silence. "Gallus, do us a favour and be quiet?"
> Home at Last
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long time away at the works, Skarloey had finally come home, and boy did he feel a lot better. His frames had been renewed, his wheels had been fixed, and he had a totally new boiler, courtesy of Israel Newtons boilersmiths. When he returned to Crovan's Gate to be reloaded onto the track, Ocellus came out to greet him.

"Skarloey!" she cried happily, glad to see her friend back. "How was Pendre?"

"Oh, it was excellent," the old Welsh engine replied, a smile on his face as he recalled the memories. "I got to meet with some old engines, and some new ones. Did you know that they had one there called Tom Rolt?"

"As in the Tom Rolt who wrote Railway Adventure?" Ocellus asked.

"The very same," Skarloey replied, as he was lifted off the truck and lowered onto his rails. "Ah, it feels good to be home again. They gave me a test on a railway they had nearby, a place called Corris. It was a nice long line, and very steep too. They also had a nice saddle tank who looks like our Peter Sam too! But I'll tell you all about that later."

Ocellus smiled. "I'm glad you're your old self again," she said, and set about greasing his cylinders and lighting his fire. Whilst the tank engine got up to temperature, Rusty and Sandbar rolled into the depot with a goods train. Rusty sounded his horn as he saw Skarloey.

"Welcome back, Skarloey!" he called, as he came to a stop in the yard. Sandbar got out and walked over to the pair.

"You must be Ocellus," he said. "I'm Sam, but call me Sandbar. Everybody does. I heard about you and Skarloey getting those passengers back on your own all those weeks back. Good work."

Ocellus blushed, her blue cheeks going red with the complement. That, and she did find Sandbar kinda cute. "Thanks," she replied. "By the way, I'm fine with you calling me Ocellus. I never really liked Olivia anyway."

Rusty chirped up. "I'm new here, as is Sandbar. We work the engineering train and help to maintain the line around here. In fact, we've mended most of the dodgy bits of track around here, which I think you'll like." By this time, Skarloey's fire was fully lit, and he was ready to go.

"Ocellus, may we get going now?" he asked.

Ocellus jumped. "Oh! Yes, of course!" she cried, hopping into Skarloey's cab, releasing his brakes, and opening the regulator. He puffed down the line to the station where the coaches were waiting.



Meanwhile, Peter Sam sat in his shed, depressed. He hadn't got over his accident with those trucks, but even though she had no work to do, Silverstream had come down every day to help him to feel better. Nontheless, he wanted to work again. But Mr Percival was having none of it.

"You need another day's rest, Peter Sam," he said. "Besides, Gallus and Sir Handel have been doing a marvellous job up in the quarries. But, we have a surprise for you."

"A SURPRISE?" Silverstream exclaimed. "Oh my goodness! I LOVE SURPRISES!"

"What sort of surprise?" Peter Sam asked, sharing Silverstream's enthusiasm.

"Wait and see," Mr Percival smiled, as a glorious chime whistle echoed through the valleys. And there, stopping outside the depot for the first time in weeks, was Skarloey.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Skarloey!" Peter Sam called, a grin stretching from either end of his smokebox.

"I feel fine," Skarloey replied. "I feel like a young engine once more."

Ocellus laughed. "That's probably because you are!" she said. "They've replaced at least half of you, if not more!"

"Did you know the human body renews itself completely every seven years?" Silverstream chimed in. "I'm not the girl I was seven years ago in that regard."

"But you're still the Silverstream we've come to know and love," Peter Sam smiled. "Well, maybe not Gallus, but who cares what he thinks?" There was a pause, before he went on. "I see you've met Rusty and Sandbar."

"Yes!" Skarloey smiled. "A lovely pair, those two."

Peter Sam sighed. "It's a shame Duncan doesn't."

Ocellus went pale, whilst Skarloey just looked confused. "Who's Duncan?"

Peter Sam went on. "Duncan is one of the new engines, who arrived whilst you were gone. They bought him to cover me during my time off after my accident."

"Is he useful?" Skarloey asked. "Useful engines are the best engines."

Silverstream spoke next. "He keeps busy, and he means well, but he's pretty unstable on the track, not to mention a bit rude. He worked on an airbase called Calshot for many years, and then in a factory somewhere in Scotland, before coming here. As a result, he has a tendancy to speak his mind, and use... strong language."

Ocellus looked even more concerned. "And let's not get started on his driver, Smoulder."

"What a funny name," Skarloey said, absent mindedly.

"It's a contraction of both her names," Ocellus explained. "She's really called Sasha Moulder, but it's often shortened to 'Smoulder'. Boy, does she have a frightful temper!"

"I understand," said Skarloey quietly, just as a workman came down the line.

"Just our luck!" he said. "Just got a phone call from the guard. Duncan has derailed in a tunnel just up the line, and we need to go and get him out. Rusty's not available, so you'll have to do it, Skarloey."

Skarloey was secretly quite happy. He was keen to head out for a run, and set off up the line with the equipment train for the tunnel. The line was nice and smooth on the way, which magnified his happiness greatly. "That Sandbar was right!" he said. "They've mended all the old bumps in the track. Always a sensible thing to do. In fact, if it weren't for the fact we are passing Lake Skarloey now, I would think I was on a totally different railway! What a difference those two have made to the line!"

"It certainly makes running the line a much nicer experience," Ocellus said. "I always enjoyed it here, but it did used to be a fairground ride on the tracks!"

Between the lake and the Top Station is a tunnel. This tunnel has very narrow clearance, and as a result engines must be very careful not to sway or move in any way whilst inside it. A train was currently stuck inside it, and Skarloey stopped just short of the tunnel where the guard was waving a red flag. Ocellus got out and walked to the far end of the tunnel, to see a red tank engine with side tanks and four little wheels sitting there. He had a cab, and the words Duncan painted on his boiler cladding. Out of his mouth flowed a strong Scottish accent, and standing next to him was a girl with orange skin, with purple hair and blue eyes. She wore white trainers, blue jeans, and a yellow T-shirt with an orange jacket. She seemed just as annoyed as Duncan.

"I keep tellin' ye, Smoulder!" the tank engine said. "I'm a plain, blunt engine. I speak as I find. A tunnel should be a tunnel, and not a rabbit hole! This railway is no good at all!"

"Tell me about it," Smoulder replied, her arms crossed as she scanned the horizon.

Ocellus was shocked. "That's no way to talk!" she said to both of them. "This tunnel is quite big enough for engines who don't rock and roll!"

"Says the girl who drives the engine with the stabilising wheels," Smoulder replied rudely, her arms still folded. "Now get us out before we lose our tempers."

It took them a while to clean the mess, but at last Duncan was free, and Skarloey pushed the train, including sulking Scotsman, through to the next station. The workmen stayed behind to fix the tunnel, and the train returned to Crovan's Gate via the Lakeside station. Mr Percival was very cross with both Duncan and Smoulder.

"Listen to me, both of you," he snapped. "There is NOTHING wrong with that tunnel. You got stuck in there because you tried to do rock and roll."

"More like because you couldn't be bothered to do a gauging run before letting him run here," Smoulder said rudely.

Mr Percival's eyes were like daggers. "Do not test me, little girl," he snarled. He then turned his attention back to Duncan. "Tunnels are not dance floors, and you are not a pop star. If this happens again, your career is... on the line, shall we say." He then walked away, as Smoulder came back with her cleaning kit.

Duncan snorted. "I always preferred Dire Straits anyway," he sighed.

Smoulder shook her head. "What a jerk," she sighed, when Mr Percival was firmly out of earshot. "Nobody tells us what to do."
> Rock and Roll
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whenever Skarloey and Ocellus travelled down the tracks of the narrow gauge railway, they always knew what to look for. They knew each and every sight and sound along the railway, and enjoyed spotting them as the line would wind its happy way across the landscape, and this made them very happy indeed. The line was currently very busy, as Peter Sam had just returned to service, and all three of the line's steam engines were in use for every conceivable working, these either being trains jammed with tourists and locals, or freight coming down from the quarries to be shipped on the mainline to places far away.

On the way down the line one fair summer's morning, the pair met Rusty, who was parked in a siding nearby. Behind was a track inspection train, loaded with sleepers, new rails, and ballast. Sandbar was hard at work relaying another siding, removing the track keys and releasing the rails from their supports, then putting them in a wagon so that the old rails could be taken away, and new ones installed. Skarloey whistled to let them know they were there.

"Hi Rusty!" the tank engine called. "I would like to thank you again for all the repair work you have done. You have done a splendid job; if I didn't know all these familiar faces and places, I would think I was on a different railway altogether!"

Sandbar called over. "It was the manager's idea, Mr... Percival? Is that his name?"

"Yes indeed!" Rusty added, a smile on his face. "He said, 'Rusty, Sandbar, let's mend all the track. We'll do it so well, that Skarloey won't know where he is'! And we did... and you didn't if you know what I mean."

Skarloey liked those two, as they were very hard workers. Ocellus, naturally enough, liked Sandbar, as he was so friendly. Not surprisingly, this had started all sort of rumours. That night, Sandbar poured over a map of the line, whilst Rusty and Skarloey sat nearby. Ocellus was oiling him down.

"There's just one bit we haven't fixed yet," Sandbar said, circling a part of the map. "There's a section of dodgy track just south of Cross-y-Cuirn that needs repairs, but we haven't had time, what with the summer season starting."

"An engine could come off there if a bit careless," Rusty sighed, as a certain tank engine came to mind.

"Duncan?" Ocellus suggested.

"I should hate to see his passengers hurt," Skarloey said sadly. "Besides, his driver is reckless."

"What was that about me?" asked a voice, as Duncan was backed into the depot. Smoulder hopped off and walked right up to Skarloey.

Nobody spoke. "I'm a plain speakin' engine and I believe in plain' speakin'. Speak up!" Duncan demanded.

"There's some awkward track at the first station. Be careful not to come off there!" Rusty told him.

Duncan snorted. "I'll do as I please. I don't need some smelly diesel or a beach dweller to order me aboot!"

Ocellus was shocked. "You take that back!"

Smoulder was equally dimissive of her. "I've got other things to do," she said, as she walked away. "Have fun with your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Ocellus exclaimed, her face going red.

"Ocellus and Sandbar, sat beneath a tree, K- I- S- S- I- N-"

"SHUT UP!"



The next day, Duncan was in a similarly foul mood to the previous day. He clattered about the yard and smacked into the coaches with a bang.

"Duncan! that hurt!" shouted Agnes.

"If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it," Duncan snapped. "Now follow along and keep quiet!" And off he went up the line.

"Some people or coaches are just never happy," Smoulder sighed. "Let's get our passengers, and get going." At the station, James and Rarity were sitting there, as they had arrived a few minutes earlier, and the platform was already crowded with passengers.

"You're late!" James snapped. "This railway must run to absolute time, or else people complain and they stop travelling!"

"Yes," Rarity sighed. "And they travel about the island on those horrible smelly busses, which clog up the country lanes and produce a smell!"

"OI!" shouted a passing double decker. "Watch your language!"

"Whoever said that railways should run to absolute time has clearly never told ScotRail," Duncan grumbled. "It's that smelly diesel's fault! He tries to tell me how to do his job, and then leaves me and Smoulder to find our own coaches!"

"Those two are lazy, that's the fact of it," Smoulder sighed, casually emptying the contents of the teapot in the cab onto the track.

Rarity was most horrified at this act. "Smoulder!" she exclaimed, her hands in the air in shock. "Don't you know that's a horrible waste of hot water?"

"Duncan's got plenty," Smoulder replied, shrugging.

"Oh, I know plenty about diesels," James said. "One, a Class 08, crept into our yard once and tried to order us about. But I sent him packing!"

Duncan was impressed, but had no idea that James was actually lying. It was Sir Toppham Hatt who had sent that diesel packing, and James had actually fallen for his trap. But still, James' words echoed through his mind as he passed a George England saddle tank, whom he honestly couldn't remember being in the shed. He dismissed this thought, and set off.

"Send him packing! Send him packing!" Duncan chanted. He produced an absolute din as he stormed the first hill, not having been built to pull these sorts of passenger trains, and swayed about as he succesfully cleared it.

"Yeah! Rock on!" Smoulder called. "Keep it up, Duncan!"

But this was the worst possible choice of words, as they approached the first station. "Nothin's happened! Nothin's happened! Silly old diesel, clever me!" And he suddenly began to rock about, swaying violently on the track as his cylinder flew back and forth.

"Hey! Take it easy!" Smoulder shouted. She reduced the regulator, but it was too late. There was an earsplitting crash, and the engine left the rails and landed in the ballast. Luckily, nothing else derailed, but Duncan lay there looking confused.

"Sleepers and ballast! I'm off!" And he was. Smoulder looked about her in annoyance.

"Stupid track maintenance department!" she shouted, kicking a rock as she did so. "You'd think they'd actually bother to fix the track, but no, they had to leave a massive hole in it!"



"Well, I warned him," said Rusty, grumpily, as he sat in the yard. "But would he listen? No." And he went into a bad impression of a Scottish accent. "Noo thank ye, Rusty, I don't need a smelly diesel to tell mee what to doo and order me aboot!"

"Come on Rusty!" Sandbar begged. "Start up, will you?"

"No!" Rusty exclaimed. "He can sit there forever, and so can Smoulder. It'll teach her for being rude to you and Ocellus."

Skarloey could not believe what he was hearing. "I'm ashamed that you could even contemplate doing such a thing, Rusty!" he said. "Think of Duncan's passengers! What are they going to do if the line's blocked?"

Rusty looked shocked. "Oh," he said. "I'd forgotten about them." And his engine roared into life. Sandbar hopped into his cab, depressed the clutch, selected 1st gear, and they were away.

When they got to the crash site, they saw Duncan sitting there between the rails, unable to rock and roll. Duncan was speaking as usual, but he wasn't blaming other people.

"Everybody will see how silly I am," he said sadly. "Maybe rocking and rolling isn't a good idea."

Meanwhile, Smoulder had got a length of rail, and was trying to lever Duncan back onto the track. "This is hopeless!" she cried. "You're too heavy for me to lift!"

Suddenly, another pair of hands appeared on the rail. Smoulder looked back and saw Sandbar was helping her. "Need a hand?" he asked.

"After what I said to you and Ocellus?" she asked.

"Eh, all in the past now," Sandbar answered. "Besides, I do kinda like her."

Together, they levered Duncan back onto the rails, and the train went on, with no rocking and rolling. Duncan was especially careful as he ran along, and when he and Smoulder returned to the shed, both looked very sad.

"Hey, Rusty," Duncan said. "Thanks for the help. Sorry for being rude to ye."

"Hey, it's alright," Rusty replied.

"You're the nicest diesel I know," Duncan replied. "Shall we be friends?"

"Of course," Rusty replied. "Let's mend that bad bit of rail tomorrow."
> Little Old Twins
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day, not long after that damaged track near Cros-ny-Cuirn had been repaired, Sir Handel Brown brought visitors from elsewhere, probably off the island, to look around. They were shown everything. They travelled on the trains, they looked at the trains, they filmed the trains passing by, and took pictures and film of everything. This included the bridges, the tunnels, the ballast, and even the rails, which caused Rusty no end of confusion.

"Why are they looking at the rails so closely?" he asked Sandbar one day, as he observed another group of the men taking some more pictures. "Don't they trust us to repair the line properly?"

"I don't know," Sandbar replied, as he took out his teapot and had a drink from it. "I just hope they aren't assessing us. My face isn't especially photogenic."

"I think Ocellus would disagree," Rusty joked.

"Look," Sandbar replied, "just because some people have started compressing her and my names into one word does not mean we are a couple. We're just friends. Nothing more. OK?"

"I understand," Rusty chuckled. Sandbar knew he understood all too well.

Further down the line, Peter Sam and Sir Handel observed another group of the men looking at a station building. "Yes, we'll take this," they said, all in unison, which was midly creepy.

Then they looked at a crane. "No, we won't take that," they said, and walked on.

All the while they were scribbling things in their notebooks. Sir Handel whistled quietly to alert Peter Sam. "Hey, Peter Sam?"

"Yes?" Peter Sam asked.

"Don't you remember that a group of men did that to our old railway? Why, they did it for weeks, and then it was-"

"Closed." Peter Sam's words were flat, and had no emphasis. It was clear this was bringing up painful memories for him, and this fact became ever clearer as the day went on. He no longer sang as he puffed up the line. He looked as though he was going to cry, and he steamed poorly because of his sadness. The other engines saw how sad he was, and became sad too. This greatly concerned Silverstream, so as she oiled him round, she went to speak to him.

"What's wrong, Peter Sam?" she asked. "Still feeling blue about your accident? You look sadder than a pair of shells owned by my cousin, Skystar!"

Peter Sam sighed, his eyes heavy and his face long. "This is similar to what happened on my old railway, before you became my driver. We don't want to be sold, Silverstream. I've lost enough homes, and I don't want to loose another."

Silverstream looked shocked. Then she began to laugh. "Sold? Who to?"

"Those people talking about taking things," Peter Sam replied, looking glum.

"Don't be silly!" Silverstream laughed, as she closed up her oil can. "Those men are from a film company, working on contract for the British Broadcasting Corporation, or BBC. They want to take our pictures for a documentary on our railway. That's what they meant!"

"Are those... moving pictures?" Peter Sam asked cautiously. "Those things people go into dark buildings to see?"

"The very same!" Silverstream replied, doing her best to explain how film works.



Later that day, Peter Sam rocketed into the yard. "Not going to be sold! Not going to be sold!!" he cheered, as he rolled in.

"What is it?" Sir Handel asked, sleepily. "Who were those people?"

"They're making a film about us!" Peter Sam explained. "They shoot moving pictures, which will then be shown on TV across the world! We'll be famous!"

Sir Handel sighed. "If it works for publicity," he said, "then I suppose it is a good thing. But I daresay I'm not too comfortable with it nontheless. Imagine rolling about, your entire life being probed by somebody else on a screen far away, reading these words as I speak!"

At this point the narrator intervened, intent on stopping Sir Handel from breaking the fourth wall. Ocellus, on the other hand, looked worried. "I hope we don't have to act," she said quietly. "I have awful stage fright."

"I'm certain it'll be alright!" Skarloey exclaimed. "Look! Here comes Mr Percival now!"

"Good evening, everybody!" he called, as he stepped into the courtyard. "I wan't every engine available to do a good job tomorrow. First off, Sir Handel and Gallus."

Just then, Gallus emerged with a can of oil. "Yes sir?" he asked.

"I want you and Sir Handel to stay here."

Sir Handel blinked in surprise. "Why?" he asked.

"I want you to be the focus of a demonstration of proper locomotive maintenance and repair." We shall leave Sir Handel's response to charity. "Skarloey, Ocellus, I want you both to take Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima, and Beatrice and run with them up and down the line."

"Yes sir!" Skarloey exclaimed. "I won't let you down." Ocellus, on the other hand, meekly nodded.

"Duncan, Smoulder, you are both to take a goods train up the line. I want NO rock and roll tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," Duncan answered.

"Learned that one the hard way," Smoulder sighed.

"Rusty and Sandbar shall have the engineering train. This shall be used to show our visitors how we mend the line."

"What about me and Silverstream?" Peter Sam asked.

"Silverstream and I," Mr Percival corrected. "You two shall work the special television train."

"Thank you sir!" Peter Sam called, rolling around in ecstasy. As a result, it was strongly advisable not to stop him.

"The special train?" Silverstream cried. Then she punched the air with her fist. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!"

The next morning arrived, and the filming train was prepared. Cameras were mounted on specially built brackets up and down the line, on the lineside. They were also mounted on some of the wagons, and a van was filled with wires and power leads. A transmission aerial was mounted on another wagon, and the flatbed had a portable generator fitted to power the cameras (the lineside cameras had their own batteries). At long last, the red light on the camera went on.

"We're on the air! We're on the air!" Peter Sam smiled, and pulled away to the shops where Sir Handel was being maintained. Apart from showing a brief interest in the fact that he was on telivision, Sir Handel on the whole did not enjoy the visit, but Gallus at least explained in a clear voice what he was doing.

"We're on the air! We're on the air!" Peter Sam called again, as they rolled along the line.

"Oh boy, Terramar is going to be so jealous!" Silverstream smiled, as they rolled along the track, and into a passing loop where Duncan was waiting.

"Hello!" Duncan called to the camera. The announcer spoke with him and Smoulder for a bit, and then they were on their way to the next station. Once there, they spoke with Rusty and Sandbar, who demonstrated the proper technique of replacing a rail, and then they were off once again. They passed through Rheneas station, past the waterfall, and came to a stop at Skarloey station.

And then, Sir Handel Brown came forward to speak. "We arranged for television," he said, "to let everybody see our little old engine, and his gallant young driver. We are proud of them. Why, the engine is good as new despite his age, and there's nothing like them in the world. Three cheers for Skarloey, and Ocellus!"

Just then, Skarloey rolled into the other platform, whistling as he did so. A great cheer started up, as he came to a stop right in front of the camera. The presenter stepped forward to speak to the engine.

"It is very good to be home," Skarloey smiled. "Thank you all for this surprise, but now I shall surprise you. When I was being mended in Wales, I found my twin."

Silverstream loudly gasped. "There's another Skarloey?" she asked.

Ocellus looked over, and shushed her. "The cameras are running!" she hissed.

"Is there another engine like you?" asked the presenter.

"Oh yes!" Skarloey smiled. "His name is Talyllyn. I took the opportunity to catch up with him, as we haven't seen each other in years. The workmen laughed when they saw us together, and called us the little old twins. He has a railway too, which is where I was mended. It runs from a place called Twywn, all the way into the woods, and to a place called Nant Gwernol. Please do visit him, and wish him good rails and dry running."

Ocellus spoke up, and it seems fitting to end on her words. "There may be other engines of his design, but there will never be a pair of twins like Skarloey and Talyllyn."
> "Hullo, Twins!"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As time went on, the North Western Railway got busier and busier. More and more people travelled across the island by train, and not entirely surprisingly this got very difficult on the engines, their drivers, the coaches, and their trucks. More and more ships arrived at the harbour, so everybody was working doubly hard. The trucks complained bitterly. Mind you, this was not much of a change from the usual, as trucks always complain and nobody takes any notice of them. The coaches complained though, and people did take notice. No sooner had they arrived on one train, they had to go out as another, with more people crammed in, standing on the seats, wiping their muddy boots on the floor, sticking their heads out of the windows-

That's enough references to Rolley the Coach for today, I think. "We don't know whether we are coming or going!" the coaches complained. "We feel most distracted and distressed!"

Out in the yard, the engines were also complaining. "Nobody can say that we are afraid of hard work," Henry said one morning.

"But we draw the line at goods trains," Gordon added, shuddering as he remembered what had happened previous times he had taken goods trains.

"Come on!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed, standing around in front of her charge. "When are we gonna get a rest? We've been working non stop for days now!"

"Agreed darling," Rarity sighed, as she hopped off of James' footplate with a mug of tea in her hand. "We have worked most hard over these last few days. Why, I've had to leave my store in the hands of Miss Pommel whilst I've been on the railway. And I haven't even had a chance to go for afternoon tea!"

"Especially those dirty trucks and dirty sidings!" James exclaimed. "Not only are they noisy and annoying, they ruin my paint and Rarity's clothes!"

"What are you all complaining about?" Duck asked them, annoyed. "Are you all just afraid of working? Why, at Paddington on the Great Western-"

"That tinpot railway," Gordon sighed. "Do you ever speak about anything else, Duck?"

"Ah quite enjoy bein' busy," Apple Bloom replied. "There ain't nothin' we Apples can't stand worse than bone idleness!"

"Then why are you sitting here with Duck, doing nothing?" Gordon asked.

"And why are you calling the Great Western a tinpot railway?" Duck asked. "It went to more places than Cornwall, you know. Why, it ran through the Thames Valley, Gloucestershire, Warwickshire-"

"Yes, thank you Duck," said a voice from in front of them. Everybody looked forward to see Sir Toppham Hatt had arrived, and he had a smile on his face. "Now then, everyone, I have some good news. In light of the increasing goods traffic on the island, I have purchased an engine from Scotland. He and his driver will arrive tomorrow. I want you all to greet them well."

The news was greeted with whistles and and cheers, as it meant that life on the island might get a little easier.



"WHAT?" Sir Toppham Hatt exclaimed, staring as he did at the engine inspector. "Did you say, two engines?!"

"Y-yes sir," the inspector stammered, as he looked at his boss with an equal level of surprise. "Truth be told, we were just as suprised as you when two engines turned up."

"Then send the other one back!" Sir Toppham Hatt exclaimed.

"Certainly sir. But which one?" the inspector asked.

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed, and walked over to the inspector. "Engines have numbers, inspector," he said. "We bought 57646. So send the other one back!"

"And therein lies the problem," the inspector said. "Neither engine has a number painted on their cabside, and are exactly identical. Not only that, we can't send them back based on driver."

"Why?" asked Sir Toppham Hatt. "I was told the engine's driver was a girl."

"Both these engine's drivers are girls," the inspector replied. "Furthermore, the name of the driver of 57646 is not given in the transfer papers."

Sir Toppham Hatt shook his head. "We'll soon settle that nonsense," he sighed, and headed out into the yard. Sitting in the sidings were a pair of Caledonian Railway 812 Class 0-6-0 tender engines. Both of them had rugged frames and thick, heavy boilers, as well as curved cabs to see off the rain. In addition, both had tenders with curved plates on the back, as well as side plates that jutted upwards. Both engines were painted completely black, and had the late BR crest on their tenders. Both engines whistled to him.

"How did you lose your numbers?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. One of the engines replied, but his accent was so thick that Sir Toppham Hatt had no idea what he was saying. "Sorry, what?"

"They mourn'a side slippet auf, sir," the engine replied. "ye can knoow how it is."

Sir Toppham Hatt shook his head. "Of all parts of Scotland, they had to be Glaswegians. Can somebody please translate?"

"He says that the numbers might have slipped off, sir," said a voice. Hopping off his footplate was a girl with turquoise skin and similarly coloured hair. She had orange eyes, a flower in her hair, and wore a pink sleeveless shirt, blue shorts, and purple boots.

"Who are you?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked.

"My name's Laura, but you can call me Lyra if you want," the girl replied. "This is Donald."

"I know how numbers get lost this way," Sir Toppham Hatt added, now very confused. "Accidently on purpose."

The other one then spoke. "Yoo wouldnae be thinkin' we lost them on purpose, would ye noo?"

"We'd never do that!" said another female voice, hopping off that engine's footplate. She had yellow skin and two-tone blue and pink hair. She had blue eyes, and wore a white dress with a single yellow stripe on the skirt, surrounded by blue lines. She also wore a belt with a bow tie attached around her waist, as well as a pair of blue sandles with ankle-high white socks. "I'm Bonnie, by the way, but feel free to call me Bon-Bon. NEVER Sweetie Drops."

"And who is your engine?"

"Oh, this is Douglas!" the girl replied.

Sir Toppham Hatt nodded. "I see. Which of you is 57646, and which of you drives him?"

"That is whata we canna min'." Both engines spoke at once.

"Right," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "Then I'll just telephone ScotRail to find out which of you is which."

"That won't help you much, sir," Lyra told him. "Those two were never referred to by name. That man was so rude he never bothered to learn them, nor mine nor Bon-Bon. Of course, we had the decency to refer to them by name, not to mention saying '57646' and '57647' got really tedious after a while."

"One of you," Sir Toppham Hatt said, "is playing truant. I shall find them out, and send them home. In the meantime, I shall give you both numbers, and set you to work. As for you two, what is your relationship?"

"Oh!" Bon-Bon smiled. "We're friends. Really good friends. It made perfect sense for us to both come here."

Sir Toppham Hatt said no more, and walked sternly away.
> The Missing Coach
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later, some workmen came to give Donald and Douglas their numbers. Donald was given the number nine, and Douglas the number ten. In order to put the numbers on and avoid obscuring the builder's plates mounted on the cabsides, the British Railways logos were removed, and the numbers put in their places on the tenders. Once the workmen were gone, the two engines noticed what had been done almost immediately.

"Ye may have noticed Douggie," Donald began, looking at nobody in particular, "that yon painter's have forgotten somethin'."

"What's that? How did they forget?" Dougas asked.

"You mean, 'what did they forget?'" Bon-Bon said. "You can't ask how something was forgotten if you don't know what was forgotten."

"Those painters put the new numbers on our tenders," Donald finally answered. "But they poot none on us!" And he winked at his twin.

"Ye mean that?" Douglas began.

"Indeed I do," Donald smiled.

"Oh dear," Lyra sighed. These two had tried a stunt like that before, and it had led to everybody getting extremely confused. "I hope you two aren't planning something like-"

"Shh!" Donald interrupted. "Here comes yon Inspector!"



Both engines were soon put to work alongside Duck and Apple Bloom. Both of the engines soon became firm friends with Duck, as they appreciated his hard working ways. Similarly, Lyra and Bon-Bon liked Apple Bloom, mainly for her no-nonsense nature. The engines didn't mind what work they did. Good trains, passenger trains, shunting- they had done it all back in Scotland, and they knew it well. Remarkably, the trucks began behaving well after Donald and Douglas had worked with them, which was an astonishing achievement!

"We like it fine here," Donald said, as he put some trucks away one day.

"That's good by me!" Duck said. "We always need help out in the yard, as it sometimes more than one engine and his driver can handle.

"Yer tellin' me?" Apple Bloom exclaimed. "But seriously, there are three engines ya need ta watch out fer. Their names are Gordon, Henry, and James. If they start givin' ya nonsense-"

"Oh, they won't give us any nonsense," Lyra smiled. "We know how to deal with engines too big for their boilers."

Donald and Douglas were fitted with deep toned chime whistles, that boomed across the landscape. For some reason, this greatly amused Gordon and Henry. "Why, Rainbow Dash, they sound like buses!" Gordon snorted.

"Faulty buses, you mean," Rainbow Dash laughed.

"Or ships," Henry added.

"I don't know many ships who sound like that," Fluttershy said. "Not even Ten Cents."

"Tugboat Annie!" Gordon chortled. "Ha ha ha!"

Suddenly, two deafeningly loud chime whistles echoed across the yard, and on either side of them appeared Donald and Douglas. On their footplates were Lyra and Bon-Bon. "Referencing obscure Hollywood movies, are we?" Lyra asked.

"Ye wouldnae be makin' fun of us, would ye now?" Donald asked.

Gordon and Henry looked sheepishly from side to side, surprised that those two had krept up on them unnoticed. "Erm, no, no, of course not!" Gordon said quickly.

"No, no, no, certainly not!" Henry added, just as fast.

"That's fine," Douglas said ominously. "Now keep it that way."

As they puffed away, Bon-Bon looked back. "Take that as a warning. Or else I'll have S.M.I.L.E on you."

Rainbow Dash spoke up next. "What's S.M.I.L.E?"



Every day, at 15:30, or 3:30 PM for those who do not use the 24 hour clock, Gordon steams into Knapford station with the Express, or to give it its proper name, the 'Wild nor'Wester'. The train, when it arrives, is packed, full of people from England, Wales, and Scotland (though, oddly enough, not Northern Ireland or the Republic of Ireland). Some people want to travel to places on Thomas' branch line, and for them, a special coach is provided that is moved from the back of the train to Thomas' platform. This is so when he gets in from the junction, he can back onto it and set off as quickly as possible back up the branch. Thomas, naturally enough, is very proud of the special coach, as is Twilight.

One afternoon, Donald and Duck were working in the yard, whilst Douglas had been assigned to a goods train headed for Vicarstown. Duck was sent off to collect Douglas' trucks, and, whilst waiting, offered to clear out Gordon's coaches. He was enjoying himself, but an awful thought struck him whilst at work. "Bon-Bon," he said, "I should hate for Sir Toppham Hatt to realise we're not meant ta be here."

"How can he know?" Bon-Bon asked. "You two look similar enough!"

Unfortunately, the two of them worried so much about this, they forgot all about the special coach, and shunted it into the sidings along with the others. Once they were done, they went to the water column next to Donald in order to refuel. As they sat there, and Bon-Bon and Lyra engaged in idle conversation when Thomas suddenly flew past.

"Oh, THIS IS TERRIBLE!" Twilight shouted, as Thomas came to a stop. "Maybe we came in too late? Or were we too fast? Was the express late? What could've happened to it?"

"Happened to what?" Lyra asked. "Twilight, you're terribly worked up."

"My coach?" Thomas asked. "Where is it?"

"Cooch?" Donald asked. "What cooch?"

"My special coach! You know, the one that Gordon brings for me?" Thomas asked. "Oh, this is dreadful! I must find it, or else my usefulness will decline sharply!" He then flew away, as a massive crowd of passengers gathered on the platform. They were all very angry.

"This is worse than Southern Rail!" shouted one.

"Virgin Trains provides a better service than this!" shouted another.

"Oh no!" Douglas cried. "I musta stowed the special cooch with the others!"

"Those passengers are complaining to Sir Toppham Hatt!" cried Bon-Bon. "They'll send us away for sure over this!"

"We can't let that happen!" Lyra shouted. "I can't bear to be without you, Bonnie! Just like Donald and Douglas can't stand to be apart."

That's enough referencing creepypastas, you four. But Lyra went on. "Listen, we'll swap engines and tenders over, so that way nobody will know the wiser!"

They completed the procedure just in time. Donald headed off with Douglas' tender, and Bon-Bon at the controls, with the goods before anybody saw. That left Douglas with Donald's tender, and Lyra on the footplate.

"Number 9, Lyra!" Sir Toppham Hatt called. "Why have you not taken the goods away?"

"Me tender is awa', sir," Douglas told him. Lyra pointed to the still uncoupled tender.

"I see," Sir Toppham Hatt replied. "Some sort of defect, no doubt. Tell me, why did Number 10 and Sweetie-"

"Bon-Bon," Lyra corrected.

"Tell me, why did Number 10 and Bon-Bon leave so fast?"

"Maybe the saw yee comin', and thought they would be late."

"Right," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "Here, gentlemen, are the facts. Number 10 has been shunting the yard, and your coach disappears. We investigate, and both Number 10 and his driver disappear. Please do accept my apologies for the mixup, and please do enjoy your afternoon."

Sir Toppham Hatt watched them walk away, facing away from Douglas. It was not clear what was going on, until he suddenly wheeled around and snapped, "Douglas, what are you doing with Donald's tender?"

"Are you suggesting-" Lyra began.

"If you were trying to trick me, remember to change the builder's plates next time."
> Break Van
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Toppham Hatt spoke severely to Donald, Douglas, Lyra, and Bon-Bon. "I do not appreciate being tricked!" he snapped. "You appear to think me stupid, whereas that is not the case. If this sort of behaviour continues here, I shall sent all four of you back to Scotland."

"Ye wouldn't now, would ye?" Donald asked, shocked. "If ye sent us back now, they'll scrap us!"

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. "I expect the very best of behaviour from the lot of you. If you do behave, I might keep all of you. So behave, or else!" And he walked away, still fuming.

Lyra looked over to Bon-Bon. "Yikes. Do you think he meant it?"

Bon-Bon looked back, looking equally worried. "I don't think he realises how bad things are on the mainland. But we'd better behave our best, or we'll be back there before you can say smile!"

"SMILE!" Pinkie shouted, appearing from nowhere.

"Who are you?" Douglas asked, surprised. But just as suddenly, there was no sign of Pinkie at all. But Pinkie's ability to defy the basic laws of physics would rapidly prove to be the least of their worries for the next few days.



There was a brakevan in the yard who thoroughly disliked the Scottish twins, and their drivers. Whether this was to do with pre-grouping rivalries was unclear, as he had been built by the North Eastern Railway, whereas Donald and Douglas were Caledonian Railway engines. Things constantly went wrong when either of the pair had to take that brakevan out. The trains ran late, the trucks constantly ran hot boxes, and the engines (and their drivers) were always blamed for it. Eventually, Donald had enough of the brakevan, and steamed right over to him one day.

"Yer a muckle nuisance!" he thundered, his eyes locked in an angry glare and his mouth in a frown. "It's ta leave you behind I'd be wantin'!"

The brakevan rolled his eyes. "Oh, you Scottish engines are such fools. You can't leave me behind; most of those trucks in the yard aren't even fitted with brakes. Without me, you wouldn't have enough braking power to stop. I'm essential."

Donald laughed. "Och, are ya?" he said rhetorically. "Yer nothin' but a screechin' and a noisy when all's said and done!" He backed up. "Ye'd spite Douggie, would ya? Take that!" Suddenly, he charged forward, and sent the brakevan flying down the track. "There's more comin' should ya misbehave!"

"Ow!" the brakevan shouted. "Not only are you foolish, you are violent as well? What sort of a world is this?"

Lyra looked at him with a frown. "Let that be a lesson to you," she said sternly. "Or else you'll have to deal with me."

Safe to say, the van behaved himself after that. But one day, things went terribly wrong. It had been raining earlier that morning, and the rails were slippery. Donald was backing up into a siding that sat next to a signal box, but Lyra misjudged the braking distance. Donald slid helplessly along the rails.

"Jump, Lyra!" he shouted. "Jump!" The girl leapt from the footplate as Donald's tender crashed into the signal box, taking out most of the wall in the process, not to mention trashing the buffers and damaging the track.

The signalman looked out. "First engines come flying off of curves near the yard, and now they demolish my signal box? This is ridiculous!"

Sir Toppham Hatt was also cross. "I am very dissapointed in the two of you," he said, shaking his head in that way a cross parent does, "and did not expect such clumsiness from the pair of you. I had been planning to send Douglas and Sweetie Drops-"

"BON-BON!" Lyra shouted. "HER NAME IS BON-BON! WHY CAN NOBODY ON THIS ISLAND GET IT RIGHT?"

"I had been planning to send Douglas and Bon-Bon back," Sir Toppham Hatt continued, "and keep you. But as you have crashed, that has changed. You have upset my arrangements, and now James will have to do the goods work instead of you. He won't like that one bit."

"Sorry, sir," Donald sighed.

"So you should be," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "Not only that, I have a signal box to fix."



Sir Toppham Hatt was right. James grumbled dreadfully the whole way, steam and smoke snorting into the air as he ran along the line. "Why do we always end up getting the dirty trucks?" he complained to Rarity as he backed up into the siding.

"Anyone would think," Douglas joked, "that Donald had his accident on purpose, to spite ye! I heard tell about some tar wagons and a red engine once!"

James looked furious. "Shut up!" he snapped. "It's not funny!"

"Indeed!" said Rarity. "I had to spend several weeks in hospital as a result of that crash."

Douglas completely failed to take the hint. "Wheel, wheel, wheel, surely then it widnae you. Ye didnae say!"

"What?" said James, as he puffed away. "I hope that wasn't crucial information, as I didn't understand a word!"

Bon-Bon sighed. "Real smooth Douglas, real smooth," she said.



To say James was cross was an understatement, and the brakevan (who was the evil one we met earlier) noticed this. "He's in a foul mood!" he laughed. "Let's make him crosser still! Hold back, lads!"

The trucks made James' work very difficult, and he was exhausted when he reached Wellsworth. Luckily, Douglas was there, acting as a temporary banker as Edward was busy on his branchline. "Help... me... up... the... hill... please!" James gasped. "These trucks are playing tricks!"

"It is getting most annoying," Rarity sighed. "So, if you would help us Bon-Bon-"

"Yes!" Bon-Bon cried. "Somebody finally got my name right!"

"So, if you would help us Bon-Bon," Rarity continued, "I'll make you a new outfit free of charge. How does that sound?"

"Right away!" Bon-Bon called. "Let's go, Douglas!"

"Ay!" Douglas called. "We'll show them!" Momentarily, he was coupled to the back of the train, and the formation set off up Gordon's hill. They climbed slowly, but James was already having problems. His cylinder cocks were leaking, and he was losing steam on the ascent.

"I can't do it! I can't do it! !" James called.

"Lay it tae me!" Douglas shouted back. Douglas' wheels continued to spin, and then began to freewheel out of control.

"CUT THE REGULATOR!" the guard shouted. "THE VAN'S BREAKING APART!"

"I CAN'T!" Bon-Bon shouted. "THE BOILER HAS PRIMED, AND THE REGULATOR'S JAMMED!"

The guard jumped free just in time, as the brakevan's frames buckled, and wood blew everywhere as metal and wheels bounced down the hillside. Douglas looked around in surprise. "What just happened?" he asked. Luckily, nobody was hurt, but Edward, having finished his duties on the branchline, brought a crane to help clean the mess.

"What is it with these two and braking things?" he asked. "You could say Douglas was pushing a... break van?" Everybody groaned at the awful pun.

"If I may sir," Edward said, "Douglas was doing a fine job. But as a pre-grouping engine, he has a parallel boiler, and this causes water to slosh about his boiler. This means his regulator got stuck at the worst possible time. But he did enough work for three engines. I heard him down on the branchline."

"Ah don't know Eddie," Applejack added. "This is an almighty mess here."

"Agreed," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "I want to be fair to the two of you, but... I don't know. I really don't know."
> The Deputation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was snowing heavily on the Island of Sodor. Snow came most years, but it had come early this time, and it fell thicker than was usual. Most engines and their crews hate snow. But Donald, Douglas, Lyra, and Bon-Bon were used to it, to say the least. They had worked regularly on snow clearing trains on the Port Road to Stranraer back in the old days, and as a result knew exactly what to do. One was turned to face the other way, so that one engine faced Vicarstown, and the other faced Tidmouth. Then a coach was coupled between them, and a pair of snowploughs were coupled to the front bufferbeams of both engines. Backwards and forwards they went, up and down the line like soldiers on patrol, fighting a constant battle against the snow.

Of course, this did lead to some tension. Donald led off quite abruptly, jerking the couplings on the coach.

"Stop bein' pully!" Douglas shouted.

"I'm not bein' pully, Douglas!" Donald shot back.

"Ya pulled me when the signal changed!" Douglas retorted.

"You pushed me more like," Donald answered in return.

"Didnae."

"Did too."

"Didnae!"

"Did too!"

Lyra sighed. "Can you PLEASE stop arguing?" she asked. "We have a railway line to clear of snow, and although I appreciate it is cold, all this hot air isn't going to put a dent in the cold!"

That shut them up! At least the snow gave them something to focus on. Sometimes, the drifts were easy to clear, and the snow flew to one side as they raced past with their snowploughs. But some drifts were heavier than most. They charged into one such one, and got stuck. As they backed up, Bon-Bon spotted something.

"Is that... an engine?" she asked, looking at the mass of snow and ice before them.

"Wash sakes Donal'!" called Douglas. "It's Henry, stuck in the snow.!

"Well, at least he isn't crashing into goods trains, is he now?" Donald replied.

"Dinnae fash yerself, Henry!" Douglas called. "We'll soon have ye out! Wait a while!"

Henry was too cold to answer, but Fluttershy spoke up. "O... OK. See you soon." She watched as the two tender engines disappeared into the distance. Later, they brought some men and a steam shovel, and had Henry dug out in no time. Naturally, Henry and Fluttershy were very grateful for the twins saving them, but noticed that the pair, and their drivers, looked glum.

"What's wrong, you four?" Henry asked. "I haven't seen engines so sad in a long time?"

"Sir Toppham Hatt is coming back soon," Lyra explained. "And that means that he's getting ready to get rid of us, after the mess we've made."

"He'll send us back for sure!" Donald and Douglas chorused.

"What a party pooper!" Pinkie said.

"A right shame, if you ask me," Percy added.

"A lot of nonsense about a broken signal box!" Gordon snorted.

"Yeah!" Rainbow Dash nodded. "It's not as if Sir Toppham Hatt's short of money or anything. Besides, why not just get Network Rail to foot the bill?"

"And that spiteful brakevan too!" James noted. "Good riddance to him, too!"

"He did cause us a lot of trouble," Rarity said, looking quickly at her jacket. "The number of repairs I had to do to my clothes based on technical mishaps he caused was far too much to keep up with."

"Not to mention those two were splendid in the snow," Henry sadly said. "It just isn't fair."

"If they hadn't come to help us," Fluttershy added, "the passengers, Henry, and myself would all be ice cubes by now."

They all agreed to do the YMCA- no, that's not quite right. They all agreed the okie kokie was what it's all about- no, that's not right either! They all agreed to do something, but nobody knew exactly what to do. Later that day, Percy and Pinkie Pie met up with Edward and Applejack in the yard. "Hiya Pinkie!" Applejack called. "Why the long face?"

"The two Scottish engines and their drivers are being sent away," Pinkie explained. "We really don't want that to happen, as they've really helped us out over the last few weeks. Do you have any ideas?"

Edward thought long and hard. "What you need is a deputation," he said.

"What's a deputation?" asked Percy. So, Edward explained.

"A deputation is a place where large amounts of raw materials, equipment, arms, or other supplies are kept until they are needed."

"Eddie, that's a depot," Applejack countered. "A deputation is a type of bomb which explodes under water and which is used especially ta destroy enemy submarines."

"And that's a depth charge," Edward replied. "Ah, I think I've got it now! A deputation is a small group of people who have been asked to speak to someone on behalf of a larger group of people, especially in order to make a complaint."

Percy smiled. "Thanks for the help!" he said, puffing away.

Later that day, Percy ran into the others. "Edward and Applejack say we need a Depastation!" he cried, as he screeched to a stop.

"Erm... of course," said Gordon, not entirely sure what Percy was on about.

"What is a desperation?" Henry asked, equally confused.

"We're despairing!" Lyra and Bon-Bon cried, by this point holding each other.

"It's when engines tell Sir Toppham Hatt something is wrong," Percy said.

"Yes indeedally!" Pinkie exclaimed. "We had a super confusing conversation with Edward and Applejack which saw them going through a dictionary and getting definitions wrong which made absolutely no sense until we got to the correct definition that we actually wanted!"

Rainbow Dash looked over. "Yeah, you need to get off the sugar Pinkie."

"NEVER!"

"Did somebody say something about telling Sir Toppham Hatt?" Duck asked, who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Mah parents always say ta tell them if somethin' is wron'," Apple Bloom added.

Silence fell, the letters plummeting downwards and narrowly avoiding hitting the engines. This silence remained there for a very long time, until Gordon spoke up. "I propose," he said, "that Percy be our disputation."

"What?" Percy asked. "I can't! Surely you can't be serious!"

"Shirley works on another railway, Percy," Fluttershy said.

"Besides," Henry said, "it's easy.

"That's settled then!" Gordon smiled, but Percy and Pinkie wished it wasn't.



"Hello Percy!" said Sir Toppham Hatt, from under several layers of winter clothing. "It sure is good to be back on the island again.

Percy was so startled he jumped backwards. "Yes sir! Please sir!" he cried, in shock.

"You look to be in shock," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "Please do tell me what is going on."

"Please sir! They've made me a desperation sir! To talk to you sir!"

"We had a suuuuper long conversation about the issue with the other engines and they all agreed we should talk to you about the problem!" Pinkie added, nearly running out of air in the process.

"Do you mean a Deputation, Percy?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked.

"Yes sir!" Percy exclaimed. "It's Donald and Douglas, sir, and their drivers Lyra and Bon-Bon! They say that if you send them away, sir, they'll be scrapped!"

Sir Toppham Hatt nodded. "I shall adress the issue," he said. And that he did. "All right, everyone," he told the engines. "I had a deputation earlier today, but I do not approve of intereference. Donald and Douglas, I hear that both you and your drivers worked well in the snow. I shall give you both a new coat of paint. What shall that be?"

"Perth blue, if ye widnae mind," Donald said.

"And your names will be painted on you as well," Sir Toppham Hatt added. "Not only that, the names of your drivers shall be written inside your cabs. We'll have no more mistakes."

"Does this mean?" Douglas asked.

Sir Toppham Hatt smiled. "It means..."

Just then, his words were drowned out by a chorus of whistles and strains of the Hallelujah chorus. For the twins, and their drivers, were here to stay.
> Thomas comes to Breakfast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas the Tank Engine- "WHEEEEEEEEESH!"

Sorry, what? Reset the scene and start over!

Thomas the Tank Engine and Twilight Sparkle have worked the Ffarquhar branchline for quite a long time now, and know it very well. They know each and every station, every level crossing, and where all the passing loops are. One day, Thomas ran into the platform with his train, and came to a stop at Knapford platform one very smoothly indeed, going past the signal box with the gigantic hole smashed in it by Douglas.

Twilight smiled as she got off the footplate. "You know just where to stop, Thomas!" she joked. "You could almost manage the entire run without me!"

Unfortunately, Thomas didn't realise that Twilight was joking. He thought she was one hundred percent serious on the matter, and whilst talking to the others, he brought it up, Twilight, Pinkie, and Flash having finished work for the day.

"You know what?" he said, casually to the others. "Twilight says I don't need her anymore. I know the route by myself."

"Thomas, that's ridiculous," Percy replied. "And Pinkie knows all about being ridiculous. An engine cannot physically move without their driver. Who would move all the controls, or adjust the injectors, or refill the sandboxes? Or even light the fire?"

"Firelighters," Toby told him. "I wouldn't go anywhere without Flash. I'd be frightened."

"Puh!" Thomas snorted, finding Toby's concern to be utterly ridiculous. "I'm not scared."

"Apart from the fact you could not move by yourself," Toby answered, "you'd never dare go without Twilight!"

"I would then!"

"You'd never dare!"

"I would!" Thomas said with finality. "Just you wait and see, Toby."



Thomas' first run of the day is at about 8 in the morning, so the firelighter came over to the shed at 4, as the sun was only just starting to rise. It would take a while for Thomas' fire to get up, and the blue tank engine simmered happily, albeit drowsily, as his boiler pressure slowly rose to operating levels. Percy and Toby were still asleep at the time, as they didn't start work until later in the day. Only then were their fires lit.

Thomas suddenly had an idea. "Silly stick in the muds!" he exclaimed. "I'll show them! Twilight did say I could manage without her, after all, and so I'll go out a short way, and then I'll stop and WHEEEESH!" He chuckled to himself. "That'll make them jump."

Thomas suddenly started moving forward. He thought he was being very clever, but in reality he was only moving because a careless cleaner had fiddled with the controls whilst cleaning, and had forgotten to put them back afterwards. He soon found out his mistake when he tried to 'wheeeesh', but he couldn't. He then tried to stop, but without Twilight on the footplate he couldn't stop either. He just kept rolling helplessly along, flying toward the sidings in Knapford yard. As he rolled onto one of the sidings, he suddenly was filled with horror.

At the end of the siding, across the road, was a house. And the siding had no buffers. He was going to crash into the house, which at this time in the day was no doubt occupied for breakfast!

"Horrors!" cried Thomas, and he shut his eyes. He fell off the end of the track, crushed the Flashing Rear End Device (FRED) totem on the end of the track, rolled straight across the road, and into the wall of the house. The house itself shook like thunder. The window had shattered when Thomas had collided with it, and plaster was falling everywhere. Thomas had accidently collected a piece of topiary on his travels, which sat on his lamp iron. But this wasn't what surprised him. Sitting inside the house was a man with light blue skin and dark blue hair, a woman with grey skin and purple and white hair, another man with white skin and blue hair, and... Twilight? "Fancy seeing you here!" Thomas said.

Twilight looked just as confused. "Thomas?" she asked. "You're a bit early. If you'd wanted to join us for breakfast you should have asked us!"

The man with blue skin stood up. "This won't do at all; there's a hole in my wall!"

"That's my dad," Twilight explained. "Night Light."

The woman then got up, picking up the plates. "You miserable engine. Just look what you've done to our breakfast!" she thundered at the blue tank engine. As she went out of the door, she looked back. "Now I shall have to go and cook some more!" With that, she slammed the door, and the house shook once again.

Night Light looked over. "I think we've got bigger worries than the breakfast!" he shouted.

"Sorry about her," Twilight said, as she went outdoors to shut off Thomas' regulator. "That's my mom, Twilight Velvet. Her real name's Tara Vere, and my dad's really called Nigel Liddon, but we use nicknames. It saves time. The other boy's my brother, Shining Armour."

Thomas didn't reply. He was very sad, so much so his eyes were slightly out of alignment, making him look similar to Derpy- sorry, I meant Muffins! Workmen soon came to stabilise the house, and rails were laid to the garden, putting Thomas on them. And then arrived Donald and Douglas. Lyra hopped off of Donald's footplate and ran some steel cable to Thomas, hooking him up. "I have to say," she said to Twilight, "this is a most novel way of remodelling your home."

Twilight sighed. "Can we please just get this tank engine out of my house?"

Donald overheard, and laughed. "Dinnae fash yerself, Thomas!" he laughed. "Don't ye worry noow, we'll soon have ye back on the rails!" And working hard, both engines pulled Thomas to safety without the house collapsing any further. A broken window frame, plaster, the piece of topiary which had once been the pride of the Sparkle's front garden, and glass all sat along Thomas' bufferbeam, which was badly bent. The twins left, but Twilight stayed with Thomas until Sir Toppham Hatt came.

"You," he said, " are a very naughty engine."

"It wasn't his fault," Twilight said. "The controls were in the open position and the brakes were left off. Somebody had meddled with them!"

"But was that person in your wall?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. Not waiting for Twilight to finish, he went on speaking. "This will need work at Crovan's Gate, and it means we'll at least be able to eliminate that non standard front bufferbeam. In the meantime, however, I shall use a diesel to work the branch instead of you and Twilight."

"A diesel?" Thomas asked.

"WHAT?" Twilight exclaimed.

"Yes," Sir Toppham Hatt smiled. "Diesels always stay in their sheds, until they are wanted. They don't go gallivanting off to breakfast in people's houses." Little did Sir Toppham Hatt realise, he had no idea what he was letting himself in for...
> Daisy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toby and Percy, not to mention their drivers, were worried and sad. Thomas' accident had caused a great deal of trouble, and Twilight had gone with Thomas to assist in his repairs. Both engines rolled to the junction station, where Sir Toppham Hatt was waiting for them.

"Ah!" he said. "There you are. This machine is Daisy, the Class 121 railcar." He indicated to a green diesel next to him. She had a long frame, and was mounted on two four wheel bogies. She had engine exhausts running up the back of her frame, and her front had three windows so the driver could see out in front. Her face was below the windows, and she was painted, as mentioned before, a dark green, with yellow stripes. A quiet rasping noise could be heard as her engine hummed.

Suddenly, there was a great explosion of smoke, and a girl appeared amidst the smoke once everybody was done coughing. She had blue skin and long white two tone hair, as well as a pair of purple eyes. She wore blue boots, a purple dress with blue lining toward the bottom, and a dark blue jacket, with a small star pendant in her hair. "And that," she proclaimed, "is how you make an entrance!"

Sir Toppham Hatt looked over. "Who are you?" he asked. "And how did you get here?"

"I am the Grrreat and Powerful Trrixie!" the girl replied. "And I got here under the cover of a smokescreen. But behold, for I am the grreatest magician Sodor has ever seen, and the driver of the equally Grreat and Powerful Daisy!"

Percy spoke up. "Please sir," he asked. "Will they go sir, when Thomas and Twilight are back, sir?"

"That depends on how they perform," Sir Toppham Hatt replied. "In the meantime, I hope you make them both feel welcome and comfortable for however long they stay here." He then walked away.

"Yes sir!" engines and driver chorused. "We will, sir!"

"Good," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "Now, run along and show them the shed."



As they travelled along, Pinkie spoke to Trixie. "So, what's your real name?" she asked. "Mine's Philomena Petricia Diane Julie Pie, but almost everybody calls me Pinkie. What's Trixie short for?"

Trixie looked at her, confused. "Trixie has always been Trixie," she explained.

"It gets my head in a fix-y!" Percy added, trying to make a joke.

Trixie sighed as she looked out ahead. "What is that up ahead?"

"This is the engine shed," Toby called to her. "This is where we sleep at night and-"

"I know what an engine shed is," Daisy interrupted. To describe her as 'hard to please' would be something of an understatement, and the shed did not meet her approval at all. "I do say, this is terribly smelly. I'm highly sprung, and anything that is smelly is bad for my swerves."

Flash looked confused. "Does anybody have any idea what she's talking about?" he asked. They next tried the carriage shed, and Daisy and Trixie seemed a lot happier.

"Ah, this open space will be perfect for Trixie to perfect some new magic!" she said, with a smile.

"It's certainly an improvement over that smelly engine shed-"

"All right, all right, don't pile it on," Toby interrupted.

"But whatever are these pieces of rubbish?"

The 'rubbish' Daisy was referring to was none other than Annnie, Clarabel, and Henrietta! They were shocked. "WE won't stay here and be insulted by that piece of modern vulgarity!" Henrietta thundered. Percy and Toby had to take the coaches away to be stored elsewhere, and spent most of the night soothing their hurt feelings.

The next morning, the engines awoke, exhausted. Except for Daisy, of course, who had had a good night's sleep. Trixie hopped into her cab, and started Daisy's engine. With a cough and a splutter, the engine rumbled into life, and was going within a minute. Flash was watching the process with interest.

"Behold," Trixie said with a smile, "the wonders of diesel traction! Reliable, quick to start, and most of all, economical. You don't need to stoke a fire or let a boiler warm up. Instead, you just turn a key, set the gears, and voila."

"How boring," Toby yawned.

Daisy then backed out of the shed to the siding, and reversed direction to gain access to the branch line. "Toot! Toot!" her horn sounded, the two tone sound echoing across the landscape as the diesel railcar made its way to Ffarquhar station. The passengers looked on in confusion at what was before them.

"Look at me!" Daisy said. "The latest in diesel traction (for this island anyway), smooth, and up to date. You won't want to travel in Annie and Clarabel after a ride in me!"

The doors opened, and the passengers sat down, ready for the journey to begin. The guard blew his whistle, and waved his green flag, but Daisy didn't move.

"Where's the driver?" he asked. Just then, he saw Trixie running back from a vending machine. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie needed some peanut butter crackers!" she shouted over to him, before hopping into Daisy's rear cab and setting the gearbox.

Just then, Toby pushed a milk tanker into place, right in Daisy's face. This milk tanker has to come down from the Ffarquhar dairy every morning, or else people in Knapford won't have fresh, nicely made milk. Then they shall have to buy it from Tesco, and risk putting local businesses out of action. But Daisy was LIVID.

"Do you really expect ME to pull THAT?" she asked, a horrified look on her face.

"Yes, I do," the station master said. "This van always goes down with the first train. I imagine your railcar has the power to pull it, Miss Trixie."

"Alas, the Great and Powerful Trixie drives the not quite so Great and Powerful Daisy, when it comes to her only having 300 horsepower of... power."

Daisy began to shudder violently.

"Stop this nonsense this instant!" demanded the station master. "Trixie, back her down onto the truck now."

Daisy continued to shudder, before suddenly stopping. Her gearbox had jammed as it had been set incorrectly, and now needed moving back to neutral before it could be used again. "Told you!" she said.

Everybody argued with her for at least half an hour, but she wouldn't budge. "It's fitters orders," she said.

"What is?" asked the station master, unconvinced.

"My fitter's a very nice man," Daisy explained. "Every week, he comes and examines me, with the help of Trixie. 'Daisy', he says, 'never, never pull. You're highly sprung, and pulling is bad for your swerves'. So that's how it is!"

"Rubbish!" snapped the station master. "Honestly, this takes the cake. Sir Toppham Hatt sending us such a feeble-"

"Feeble?" Daisy spluttered. "FEEBLE?"

"Can we all stop arguing?" the passengers asked. "We're late as it is."

So, Daisy, Trixie, and the passengers all set off, without the milk. "Alas, we are victorious again!" Trixie said, with a smirk. "And now we shall disappear!"

"That's a good story!" Daisy laughed. "I'll do the work I want, but no more." But she kept that to herself and her driver, as she purred through the Sudrian countryside.
> Bulls Eyes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toby the Tram Engine was built to run through quiet areas of countryside, where the tracks would not neccesarily be fenced off. As a result, he was fitted (and indeed, still is fitted) with cowcatchers and sideplates. These are to ensure that if animals were to stray onto the line, they would not be hurt should he run into them for any reason. This arrangement worked well in East Anglia, and indeed continues to work well now. But Daist wasn't convinced.

"You're just afraid of getting hurt yourself," she sneered.

"I'm not!" Toby said, very offended. "As a matter of fact, if I were to collide with an animal, it would be the animal that would come off worse, and not me!"

"I'm not afraid of stupid animals," Daisy said. "And I don't have silly cowcatchers and sideplates. In fact, if I see an animal, I just sound my horn and they go away."

"And then I can magic them away!" Trixie declared cofidently. "For I am the greatest and most powerfullest magician and engine driver on all of Sodor!"

Flash facepalmed. "Trixie, that isn't even a word!" he exclaimed.

"Which word?" Trixie asked.

"Powerfullest!" Flash replied. "Most powerful would make more sense."

"But is sounds nowhere near as dramatic," Trixie replied.

"Besides," Toby said, "animals don't go away when you whistle at them. If anything, it makes them angrier!"

"They do with me," Daisy declared, confidently.

"Even bulls?" Toby asked.

"Even bulls," Daisy smirked. The fact she had never met a bull was intentionally hidden, and she purred away from the platform and up the branchline without any concern at all. Shortly out of Ellsbridge was a level crossing. As the crossing approached, Daisy sounded her horn, and an approaching horse and cart stopped as she rolled past.

"That old tram engine was talking absolute rubbish!" laughed Trixie.

"There's nothing to it, really," Daisy smiled. "I just toot at them, and they stand aside like they should, making way for modernisation. That silly little Toby will feel so silly for being frightened."

Daisy, of course, had little idea of what she was talking about, but she went on regardless, rolling down the line confidently. At Hackenbeck station, a policeman was waiting to greet the train. He looked most concerned.

"Just to warn you," he said, "there's a bull on the line. He has escaped from a nearby field, and we need help in getting him back into the farmer's land. Can you help us?"

Daisy was delighted. "Now I'll show Toby how to manage bulls," she thought, as she rolled along.

Champion, the bull, wasn't really a violent animal, but he was cross today. He had wandered too far, crashed through a fence, slithered down the embankment into a cutting, and now had no idea where he was, with a pair of strange metal strips running into the distance as far as he could see. But then, he saw some grass, and wandered over. "Time for my breakfast," he thought.

Daisy, meanwhile, emerged from the nearby tunnel and stopped just where Champion was. She sounded her horn twice, but the bull simply sat there and continued eating. She tried again, but still Champion went on ignoring her. "This is ridiculous!" she said. "How can I look this bull in the eye if he won't turn around?"

"This is proving to be most irritating," Trixie sighed.

Suddenly, Champion turned around, and moved toward her. "Moo!" he said loudly.

Daisy blasted her horn again, but still Champion wouldn't move. "This is ridiculous!" she said again. "How are we going to get him to move?" Champion was, by this point, invading Daisy's personal space, looking directly into her eyes.

Trixie then had an idea. She got out of the cab, and grabbed a strange ball. "And vanish!" she cried, throwing it down, and producing a great cloud of smoke in the process.

When the smoke had cleared, the bull was still there... and so was Trixie. "Confound it!" she cried. "My teleportation spell has some bugs!" and she jumped into Daisy's rear cab, reset the gearbox, and the pair took off down the line, back to Hackenbeck.

Toby arrived a few minutes later, to find Daisy and Trixie parked on a siding. "Bulls always run away if you toot them and look them in the eye, eh Daisy?" he asked.

Daisy said nothing, but Trixie had plenty to say on that note. "This is a travesty! A TRAVESTY!" she cried. "My magnificent and powerful magics, confounded and bemused by a mere bull! My rreputation is rruined!"

Flash sighed. He walked over to Daisy and handed Trixie some peanut butter crackers. "I hope you feel better after these," he said. "Toby and I will try to move the bull ourselves."



Moments later, Toby and Flash found Champion, still eating (as he had only filled one stomach of four). Toby whistled and sounded his bell, but Champion ignored him.

"Let's see how he likes this," Flash smiled. With that, he pushed down on a lever in the cab, and opened Toby's regulator a short distance. Steam shot from Toby's cylinder cocks, which startled Champion. Another short jet of steam, and Champion began to walk down the line towards the next station, where his owner was waiting to greet him and take him home.



Daisy finally returned to her depot at the end of the day, having had a very long day indeed. As her last load of passengers got off and headed for the car park, a group of schoolchildren walked across the platform to her.

"Hello Daisy!" called one. "I've got some sweets here. They're called 'bulls eyes'! I quite like them. Fancy giving one a try?"

Daisy shuddered. "No!" she exclaimed. "I've had quite enough of bulls for one day, and food would simply clog my intakes! You can keep them to yourself!" And with that, she shot forward, and hurried into her shed, quite keen to forget the embarrassment of that day.
> Percy's Predicament
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy the diesel railcar, as well as her driver Trixie, became something of a problem on the Ffarquhar branchline. Both of them were very lazy indeed, and did only the work they chose to do, not the work they were booked to do in the timetable. Not only that, their fear of cows and other livestock led to untold delays until they were led off the line, making trains late, and passengers extremely cross indeed.

One day, Flash Sentry brought Toby and Henrietta to a stop outside the shed, where Percy was busy moving up and down with a long line of trucks. "Hello Pinkie!" he called. Pinkie didn't reply. She was too busy talking to herself.

"Hello Percy!" Toby called. "I see Daisy's left the milk, again."

"Would you believe it?" Percy asked, his face the image of annoyance. "I'll need to make a special run down to Knapford with it. Honestly, who thought hiring those two was a good idea?"

"You're not the only one thinking that," Pinkie sighed, clearly very hot and bothered. "I could be organising a party right now, but no, we have to go and do the work that that diesel railcar and her driver are clearly too lazy to do!"

"Tell me about it," Flash sighed. "Those two have been nothing but a nuisance the entire time they've been here."

"Anybody would think I had nothing to do!" Percy added, sarcastically.

Toby then had an idea. "Tell you what," he said, "if Flash and I take the milk, you can take the trucks from Anopha quarry to the mainline. How does that sound?"

"That's a wonderful idea!" Percy exclaimed. "Does that sound OK to you, Pinkie?"

"Yes indeedally!" Pinkie replied, her face now replete with a grin. "I could do with a change of scenery."

So off they went to Anopha Quarry, a giant pit in the middle of the island just beyond Ffarquhar. This place extracted large quantities of rock and gravel for use on other parts of the island, and as a result the traffic flow to and fro was very heavy, with large numbers of trucks sitting about in the sidings. Percy had never been to the quarry before, and as a result had no idea how to behave around the trucks. He began ordering them about. "Hurry along!" he called. "Look sharp!"

The trucks were annoyed, and began groaning to one another. "This is Toby's yard," they said to one another, loudly. "Percy and Pinkie have no right to just show up and boss us about!"

It was then they made a plan. "Pay Percy out!" said one.

"Pay Percy out!" added another.

The message rippled up and down the line of trucks like a Mexican wave. "Pay Percy out! Pay Percy out! Pay Percy out!" they repeated, over and over again until all the trucks were saying it in unison (which was a little creepy, I'll admit).

"Oh, come on, cheer up!" Pinkie exclaimed. "It's a lovely sunny day, and life is a party!"

"Pinkie's right, you know," Percy said. "Now hurry along, no nonsense!"

"thgir lla esnesnon mih evig ll'ew, hO!" said the lead truck, with a smirk.

"What?" said the second truck. "Even I don't speak backwards!"

"At the end of my sentence, the beginning is," added a third truck.

The fourth truck laughed. "You sound like Yoda!"

Percy then backed onto the train. "I said not to give me any nonsense, and nonsense is something up with which I will not put. That includes speaking backwards!"

"Oh, we'll give him nonsense all right," the first truck smirked, though he said it so quietly that Percy didn't hear a word. As they set off, they ran so smoothly that Percy thought the trucks were behaving, and that he had them under control. Towards the end of the line is a steep gradient. This works out at one in one hundred, which is very steep indeed. This requires trains to stop and check brakes are working, which was especially important as Percy's trucks were not fitted with continous brakes. As he came towards the incline, he saw a sign. The sign said;

'PERCY YOU MUST GO WHEESH AND CRASH!'

"What?" Percy asked. "Why am I to wheesh and crash?"

"Because the plot requires it?" Pinkie asked, equally confused. "I mean, you do crash in this one and then Tho-"

PINKIE, DON'T SPOIL THE STORY!

Everybody, I do apologise. It seems KeeperofBeans has taken over my keyboard again. Let me just rewind and correct this.


PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT WHILST THE AUTHOR FIXES THE STORY


As he came towards the incline, he saw a sign. The sign said;

'ALL TRAINS MUST STOP TO PIN DOWN BRAKES'

Percy whistled loudly. "Brakes, guard!" he called. But before the guard could bring the train to a stop, the trucks banged together as they rolled onto the steep gradient.

"On! On! On!" the first truck cried. "Chase him! Bump him! Throw him off the rails!"

"That's the wrong episode!" shouted the truck behind him. "This is Branch Line Engines, not Duck and the Diesel Engine, remember?"

"Oh!" said the first truck. "I see. Anyway, On! On! On!"

Percy cared little for what episode it was. "Help! Help!" he cried, as he skidded uncontrollably down the gradient.

"We've got a problem!" Pinkie cried. "We've got no brake pressure! WE'RE GONNA CRASH!!"

The signalman at the junction ran forward, and tried to warn traffic on the road about the runaway train. But as he ran to the switch that controlled the points, Percy flew by before he could change the lever over. Percy was not on the runaway siding, he was going to crash into the back of another train!

Percy skidded through the yard, and before him sat a brake van. The brake van shouted in horror. "OH NOT AGAIN!" he cried.

"PINKIE, JUMP!" Percy shouted. Pinkie bailed from Percy's footplate as he smashed into the brakevan, completely destroying it. He rode along the frames before landing on top of a ballast wagon, being perched high in the air.

Pinkie Pie looked up at the scene in confusion. "Why do derailments always seem to happen to us?" she asked, with a sigh.

The next day, Toby and Daisy helped to clean the mess, but Percy was still stuck on top of the truck. Sir Toppham Hatt was not pleased, but then again, he rarely was.

"We," he said, "must try to run this branchline with only a diesel and a tram engine. This incident has put us in an awful predicament, not to mention increased the engine repair bill. I really must take out a new insurance policy."

"I am sorry sir," said Percy sadly. "But it was those trucks who pushed me down here. Why do they never take the blame?"

"You were careless with them," Sir Toppham Hatt replied. "I shall leave you there until you learn to behave." He then went over to Daisy and Trixie.

"My engines and drivers," he said, "do not tell lies, and are not lazy slackers. They work hard and do as told. Those who don't are sent away."

Both Daisy and Trixie looked very sad. "The great and powerful Trixie admits she made some mis-steps whilst working on this line," Trixie said. "It would perhaps be pertinent for Trixie to-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Daisy said. "We're sorry, OK?"

"However," Sir Toppham Hatt said, "Toby tells me you both worked hard after Percy's accident, so I shall give you both another chance."

"Thank you sir!" Daisy said. "Toby says he'll help me learn how to run things."

"Trust me," Flash said calmly. "What Toby doesn't know about branchlines is not worth knowing."

The very next day, Thomas came home, with a new straight bufferbeam, and Twilight was with him. "Did I miss anything?" he asked, as Toby prepared to depart, with Percy on a flatbed.

Toby laughed. "You two wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said.

"Did something go wrong?" Twilight asked.

"Not really," Flash replied, as he opened Toby's regulator. "Just the usual." The pair set off for the works at Crovan's Gate. Thomas set off shortly after, keen for a run with Annie and Clarabel again. All are now good friends, and Toby has taught Daisy well into the ways of branch line operation. Daisy and Trixie even shooed a cow off the line yesterday! That shows you, doesn't it?"
> Special Funnel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The temperatures on the Island of Sodor were beginning to fall, and the first signs of snow were beginning to emerge, particles of the silly soft stuff starting to fall wherever you looked. One day, Peter Sam made his way nervously along the Skarloey Railway. Even though he had suffered a serious accident which had damaged his funnel, the railway was yet to replace the defective part, and as a result he was rather worried about it. Now it seemed as if the biting wind was doing all in its power to blow it away, a prospect which un-nerved Peter Sam greatly, not to mention Silverstream.

Silverstream looked him over as she checked for damage at the end of another day's work. "The bolts are loose!" she said, shivering despite her warm winter clothing. "We're lucky that it didn't come loose today!"

"I've been telling everybody for weeks that my funnel feels wobbly," Peter Sam said sadly. "But nobody ever seems to pay attention to me."

Silverstream looked sad. "I pay attention to you," she said, with a smile, as she picked up a spanner and adjusted the bolts.

"At least the manager said I'll be getting a new one soon," Peter Sam sighed. "He says it will be something special."

"Honestly, you and your special funnel!" laughed Sir Handel. The other engines were fond of Peter Sam, but the issues with his funnel had resulted in him becoming the butt of jokes on the railway.

The weather got worse as the days went by. The wind got heavier, and it began to rain. It rained and it rained for a fortnight, and the rain turned solid ground into streams of mud that threatened to wash much of the line away. As a result, Rusty and Sandbar worked double time to convey workmen and crucial equipment up and down the line to where it was needed. They also assisted in dislodging trees and rocks, in order to allow water to flow freely and prevent landslides. But one day, Sandbar brought bad news to Rusty.

"There's been a flood and landslide near the tunnel!" he said, as he jumped into Rusty's cab. "The entire trackbed was washed away, and the rails are currently hanging in thin air. We must get up their and fix the damage as fast as we can!"

The repairs to the line took many weeks, as the decision was made to convert the old trackbed into a bridge. As time went by, the rain faded, and the weather grew colder. The water was replaced by ice and frost, but at long last the bridge was complete. A few days later, Peter Sam puffed carefully over the bridge. He then heard Silverstream sigh. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's cold, and I prefer summer," Silverstream admitted, sadly. "I've always liked going swimming, and you can't do that if it's cold. You get hypothermia."

"That must be horrible," Peter Sam said. "Oh look! Here's the tunnel!"

This was the very same tunnel that Duncan had derailed in, and as a result was taken with a degree of caution. The tunnel is curved, and as a result a driver cannot see all the way through to the end of it. The train slowly entered the tunnel, plunging into the blackness of the tunnel, and had almost cleared it when-

"OW!"

Peter Sam then emerged from the other end of the tunnel, and came to a stop, with a rather noticable component missing. His funnel was gone, sheared off by forces unknown.

Silverstream was shocked. "Peter Sam!" she cried. "Are you OK?"

"Apart from the fact my funnel has just been torn off, I'm OK," Peter Sam replied. "Any idea what caused it?"

"Here's what caused it," said the guard. In his hands he held a very long piece of ice. "This stalactite was hanging off the top of the tunnel roof, and collided with your funnel. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"All caused by a well boiled icicle," Silverstream sighed, unaware of the fact she had just commited a spoonerism.

"I think you mean 'a well oiled bycicle'," Peter Sam said, unhelpfully. "Were you always hissing in Mrs Harshvoice's mystery lessons?"

Peter Sam set off once more, but the journey was very difficult. The role of the chimney is to draw exhaust gases out of the boiler and up the funnel, but without it these gases could not leave the boiler. This made travel very slow indeed, until Silverstream spotted something lying next to the side of the track. It was long, and old, and made of copper. "Look there!" she called. "It's a drain pipe! It'll be perfect for a makeshift funnel, which will at least control the smoke levels!" With some pieces of wire, she attached it to Peter Sam's smokebox, wrapping the excess around his buffers, and off they went. They arrived at the station at Kirk Ronan, but when they went to the yard the other engines were waiting.

"Hello Silverstream!" Gallus said. "Are you practicing your DIY skills?"

"Yeah, because that looks totally ridiculous," Smoulder laughed.

Sir Handel smirked, and just then he and Duncan began to sing, in two part harmony.

“Peter Sam said again and again,
his new funnel will put ours to shame.
Went into the tunnel
(And) lost his old funnel.
Now his famous new funnel's a drain!”

However, one engine wasn't amused. "Silence!" snapped Skarloey. "How would you like it if you were the one being laughed at?"

"Yeah!" Ocellus added. "Could any of you have improvised something like that?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Some people and engines have no sense of humour," he grumbled.

"Yeah, calm down Ocellus," Gallus snorted.



The teasing went on and on, until one day, Mr Percival arrived with a strange rectangular box. It was made of metal, and painted black, and looked very odd indeed. "Hello Peter Sam!" he called. "This is your new funnel!"

"Oh dear," Peter Sam sighed. "Somebody's squashed it."

Mr Percival laughed. "This funnel is called a Giesl ejector. It was invented by a Swiss engineer, and works by increasing the draft area. The blastpipe in the smokebox is replaced by multiple smaller ones, increasing the draft area, which is why this chimney has this long shape to it. There's another engine on the mainland called City of Wells who's fitted with one of these, and according to his driver it works marvellously."

The new funnel dramatically transformed Peter Sam's power output. He could now draw hot air much more easily, and he was a lot more powerful because of it. Even Sir Handel was impressed.

"I don't understand it!" he exclaimed. "He can just stroll along as if it's nobodies business. He makes work looks easy!" Safe to say, Duncan and Sir Handel don't laugh at Peter Sam's funnel now!"
> Steam Roller
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the few weeks since Peter Sam got his new fancy Giesl ejector, Mr Percival took the opportunity to upgrade Sir Handel as well. He oversaw the fitting of a new pair of trailing wheels with broad tires, which make it easier for him to stay on the track, and also mean he runs much more smoothly. However, much like Peter Sam's special funnel, Sir Handel's new wheels caused him a great deal of ridicule. One morning, the engines were teasing him over it, same as ever.

"Oh, here's Sir Handel!" called Peter Sam, keen to get his own back after having been teased mercilessly over his drainpipe chimney. "Look at his great big steamroller wheels! I bet he could flatten tarmac with those!"

"Be quiet," Sir Handel snapped. "You're just jealous of my smooth ride. Besides, I may have extra wheels, but at least I don't have a soup can welded to my chimney!"

Peter Sam fell silent, but Silverstream chose to speak up instead. "Don't worry," she said. "He's only joking. That chimney made him a lot more reliable, and I'm certain those wheels will make you more reliable too."

"Do you hear that?" Sir Handel called. "My wheels are special, as I can go faster more safely than any other engine!"

"And hopefully not fall through the track this time," Gallus groaned. He remembered well the time that Sir Handel had derailed just outside Blue Mountain Quarry by falling through the track.

Skarloey was getting rather tired of hearing the engines arguing about how one part was better than another, and so he had an idea. "Why, Sir Handel," he said, with a sly smile. "You are just the engine to tackle George!"

"Who's George?" Sir Handel asked, confused. He had never heard of a George.

"He's a great big green steamroller," Skarloey explained. "He's very rude, and not a nice machine at all. Why, there he is over there!"

A giant steamroller was rumbling back and forth, and came to a stop just next to the shed. "Railways are no good!" he thundered. "Turn them into roads! Railways are no good! Turn them into roads!"

Sat at his controls was a young girl, with pink skin and blue hair. She also had red eyes, and wore a white shirt with a green dress over it, as well as blue shoes. She glanced over to the drivers of the engines. "Oh golly!" she said, with a sarcastic smile. "I feel so sorry for you all."

"Why?" asked Ocellus.

"Because you'll all be unemployed soon, when we've built a great big motorway across the Island!" the girl laughed. "Won't you look silly?"

Gallus sighed. "Just go away, you!" he said. "Besides, shouldn't you be in school, Shirley?"

Sir Handel looked over to Skarloey. "By Falcon, you're right!" he said. "That steamroller is positively dreadful. Who was that girl driving him?"

"That's Clair Gray," Smoulder explained. "But she's often referred to as Cozy Glow. If I'll be honest, she's a complete brat."

Gallus looked firm, his face set in a grim line. "Don't you worry," he said. "They can mess with me, but they don't mess with my friends. Sir Handel and I shall sent them packing."



A while later, Sir Handel encountered George at a level crossing. Cozy Glow looked at him with a cute face, an expression not shared by George. "So," the steamroller said, "you're Sir Handel then. And Gallus."

Sir Handel was not happy. "And you, I suppose, are George. And that's Cozy Glow up in the driver's seat?"

Cozy shrugged. "The sky is also blue. Care to state the obvious any further?"

"You two gallivant about, thinkling you're better than us," Geerge snorted.

Sir Handel smiled. "Actually," he said snarkily, "I am, and so is Gallus. Goodbye!" And off he went on his way up the line.

George looked furious, whilst Cozy looked equally angry. "Why, that little upstart!" she snarled. "We're gonna give him a walloping he'll never forget!" Throwing the speed switch, they set off up the road.

Later that day, Sir Handel was steaming down the line with a special train. The rest of the line's trains had run, and this was the last working to do. He crossed over the road, and ran alongside it. The gap between the road and the railway was very narrow, as the road had newly been widened, and this made moving about very difficult. Just up ahead, he saw George steaming for home, and tried to attract his attention. "Peep! Peep!" he whistled. "Hello!"

George took absolutely no notice. His eyes were on the road ahead of him, as he was concerned about the clearance. Sir Handel moved alongside him, shouting furiously. "Get out of the way, you roadhog!" he shouted.

"I don't move for imitation steamrollers!" George boomed.

"Get back!" Cozy shouted, looking concerned. The road was now even closer to the line.

"Or what?" Gallus smirked. "You're gonna go crying to your mommy?"

The insults flew back and forth for several minutes, until something bad happened. George suddenly swerved to the left, and crashed into a wagon that was at the back of the train, derailing it. Sir Handel slowed down and was brought to a stop by the impact, his wheels spinning furiously in place. Behind him lay the wrecks of two derailed coal trucks. "That was your fault!" the blue tank engine shouted.

"OUR FAULT?!" Cozy Glow screeched. "You've ruined everything! If you had been watching where you were going, you wouldn't have got in my way!"

"It was most certainly yours," George added.

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

Everybody was arguing loudly about who caused the crash. Suddenly, a certain policeman turned up.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Gallus looked at him. "Before you ask, we are NOT fitting Sir Handel with cowcatchers and sideplates!" he said.

But everybody stopped arguing, and instead got to work cleaning up the mess. The next day, workers put fences into place along the line between the road and the railway, to prevent cars from straying onto the track. Then they left, taking George and Cozy Glow with them. But Sir Handel and Gallus thought they had made George go away, and they both talked endlessly about it for days!

Ocellus looked at Skarloey. "This plan backfired somewhat, didn't it?" she said.

"I agree," said Skarloey sadly. "He's worse than he ever was!"

"Never mind," Rusty sighed. "He'll forget about it- eventually. We'll just have to think of something else."

"Look!" Sandbar called. "There's a bunch of boys coming over to the shed!"

Sure enough, a crowd of children wandered over, and began pointing at Sir Handel. "Look!" said one. "That's the engine who tried to race a steamroller, but the steamroller nearly beat him!"

"Hear that?" said another. "You were nearly beaten by a girl."

"I take offence!" shouted Smoulder.

"Where would you take this fence?" Duncan asked, completely missing the point.

"That's not what happened!" Gallus snapped. But safe to say, they never mention steamrollers now!
> Passengers and Polish
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was evening on the Skarloey Railway, and Skarloey himself was resting gently, dozing in the early evening sun. At the same time, Ocellus had taken out her cleaning kit, and was currently busy polishing his brasswork and varnishing his paint until it shone.

Skarloey wanted to rest, but Ocellus wanted to talk with him. "Oh my!" she said. "When did I last polish your brasswork? It's in a right state, you know, and this has to be corrected."

"And I'm trying to shleep," Skarloey said in a tired voice. "You're jusht a fushpot, thatsh all." And off to sleep he went, dreaming of the old days with Rheneas. The pair had run the railway together almost on their own, but sadly Rheneas had had to go away to a place on the mainland in order to be mended. Skarloey missed Rheneas. He looked forward to seeing him again, and hoped that it would be soon. "Stuck in mud," he said quietly. "Bucking bronco, me? Ha!"

But Skarloey's happy dream was interrupted by Ocellus once again. "Skarloey," she said. "Don't you want to look good for when Rheneas comes back?"

Skarloey's eyes shot open, and he looked about in alarm. "What?" he asked. "When?"

"Pretty soon, but we don't know exactly when," Ocellus replied, cleaning up her kit. "But as you want to sleep now, I'll come back and do it tomorrow. Wouldn't want to disturb you, would I?" and she began to walk away.

"Ocellus!" Skarloey called. "Do I really look a mess? Answer me honestly, if you would."

Ocellus smiled. "Now that's the Skarloey I know," she said. Taking out her kit again, she set to work removing dust and corrosion from the old tank engine. Unfortunately, Duncan then rolled into the depot. He was absolutely caked in muck, and his paintwork wasn't so much red as a muddy brown.

"Hello!" he said to Ocellus. "Cleanin' Skarloey, are we? No wonder, his paint looks like-"

"Shh!" Smoulder hissed. "Hey, Celly, can I borrow some of your cleaning kit? Duncan looks less than presentable."

"Oi!"

Ocellus sighed, as she finished work on Skarloey. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't. Mrs Cake asked if I can help her look after her twins, as Pinkie isn't around. Not only that, I'm helping her make some more cakes for the teashop up at the lake. So I'm off to do that next. See you tomorrow!" And off she went, humming to herself.

Duncan sighed. "Seriously," he asked, "why does Skarloey get the priority treatment aroond here?" And on he ranted. "It's not fair, you know. Peter Sam gets a new funnel, Sir Handel gets new wheels, Skarloey gets a polish, passengers get cake, but what do I get? Nothing! Not even a polish!"

"Duncan," Smoulder sighed. "Stop moaning. If you behave well, I'll do it tomorrow. Deal?"

Duncan was out of the shed like a flash! Truth be told, Duncan had been polished (a bit), but he enjoyed complaining about things. He had no more time to moan, as suddenly Smoulder's phone went off, and she answered it.

"What?" she said. "Oh dear. Duncan won't like that one bit. A coach, you say? Sure, I'll tell him right away. Right. Bye!" she hung up, and looked at the tank engine. "A coach has derailed up the line," she said. "We need to go get it, as well as take some workmen up the line to mend it."

Duncan sighed. "I don't know whether I'm coming or going. But I'll do it."

Smoulder smiled. "There's a good engine," she said. "Come on!"



Truth be told, Duncan's mood hadn't actually changed at all. He was behaving in a likable manner as it was most likely to get him what he wanted, but he was still annoyed. He went up the line to where the derailed coach was. The engine on the head of the train had gone on with the other coaches to Lakeside station, which left the derailed coach to be rerailed. Duncan left the workmen and some trucks in the siding, and then was coupled onto the train, taking the remaining coaches down to Crovan's Gate so that the passengers could catch the train home. He sulked the entire way.

"I get no rest, I get no rest!" he grumbled, as he puffed along. Duncan seemed to be having steaming issues on the way, and so Smoulder paused partway down the line, just above Skarloey station, in an effort to build up steam pressure.

"Put some effort in," Smoulder sighed. "We'll keep the passengers waiting if we keep this up!"

"You always think aboot the passengers, and NEVER about me!" Duncan snapped in response. Eventually, the pressure was back to normal, and they resumed their trip down the line. Duncan still ran very slowly, as the train was somewhat too heavy for him, and he still grumbled. "I'm overworked and I can't stand it!" he grumbled.

Smoulder responded by putting in a pair of ear plugs. "Much better," she sighed. "At least I don't have to listen to Duncan all the time."

Just above Rheneas station is a seven arch viaduct. This is the last point trains have to cross before entering the station, and beyond that it is a relatively easy run to Crovan's Gate. As Duncan rumbled slowly onto the bridge, the end was in sight. "Come on Duncan!" Smoulder called. "One more effort, and you can have a rest and a drink at the station!"

Her choice of words couldn't have been worse, as Duncan snapped at the mention of 'rest'. His brakes came on, and he skidded to a complete halt in the middle of the viaduct. "Keep your old station!" he said. "I'm restin' here, and that's final!"

He sat there for half an hour. Eventually, they had to bring Skarloey and Ocellus up the line to pull the stricken train into the station, which not only annoyed Skarloey, as he had been having a nice break, but Ocellus too, as she had been enjoying helping the Cakes. Most annoyed of all were the passengers. They were very cross, and they made sure to tell Smoulder in very loud voices what a bad railway it was. But somehow even crosser was Mr Percival.

"No passengers means no polish!" Mr Percival snapped loudly, at Duncan, before turning to Smoulder. "Get your engine under control, or else I'll give you the sack!" And he walked away into the night.

"No polish means no passengers," Duncan grumbled, but then noticed Skarloey backing into the shed road next to him. And boy did he look cross.
> Gallant Old Engine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duncan had not stopped grumbling over the last few days. He grumbled that he wasn't polished, he grumbled he was overworked, and he'd even grumbled about the passengers! Why, only today he had prevented a train from getting into Rheneas station by stopping on top of the bridge. This had made everybody very annoyed, and not least Skarloey, who had now been backed into the shed by Ocellus. Both of them looked very annoyed.

"I'm ashamed of you, Duncan!" Skarloey snapped, his eyes full of anger. "Thank Trethivick that Rheneas is coming home tomorrow, perhaps he and his driver can teach you some sense before it's too late!"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "What is Rheneas to do with me?" he asked, annoyed that this mysterious engine was being mentioned yet again.

"Rheneas saved our railway," Skarloey said. "You may complain about the numbers of passengers Duncan, but truth be told, things were very different a few years ago."

"Please tell us!" Peter Sam asked from nearby. "I don't believe you've told us this one!"

Skarloey smiled as the screen suddenly went blurry.

"What's happening?" Ocellus asked, panicked.

"Don't worry, I'm only having a flashback," Skarloey said. "It happened before you came here, you see. The railway was in very bad shape, with broken buildings, damaged trucks, and poorly maintained coaches. Rheneas and I were the only things keeping the railway going, or else it would close."

"That sounds awful!" Silverstream exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth.

"It was," Skarloey replied. "I tried hard, but I was too old. My wheels ached badly, and I could not get up enough steam. But Rheneas, the kindly old soul he was, understood entirely. 'It's my turn now!', he said to me one day. He was old, like me, and often short of steam, but no matter what he always made it to a station and rested there... unlike a certain tank engine here."

Duncan growled at Skarloey, but otherwise said nothing.

"'I must never stop between stations!', he would say. 'Whatever would the passengers think?'"

"Yeah, right," Duncan snorted.

"Passengers," Skarloey continued, "get very cross if you stop in the wrong places. Rheneas stopped in the wrong place one time, and this is what happened..."

It was a wet, horrible, and rainy afternoon many years ago. The rails were damp, and the train was very heavy as the rain lashed down upon the Island of Sodor. Rheneas, an old tank engine with a four wheels, outside cylinders, a dome up against the cab, and a pair of squat side tanks, was rolling along with four coaches. At his controls was a girl with grey skin and brown hair, wearing a light red dress with a white shirt underneath, as well as black stockings and shoes. The train was packed, with some of the passengers being crammed into the guard's van!

"This is very slippery!" Rheneas exclaimed to his driver, as his wheels wouldn't grip the rails, and slimply slid in place. "Are you sure we can make it, Yona?"

"Yona knows Rheneas can make it!" Yona replied. "Yona knows Rheneas is hard working engine!"

This caused Rheneas to redouble his efforts, and he set off up the slope with renewed strength and determination. At last, the pair reached the top with the coaches, and they were at long last through the worst of it.

"Hooray!" Yona cried. "Yona knew we could do it!"

Rheneas smiled. "The worst is over," he sighed. "Now, it'll be easy." Had he not been so tired, he would have known better than to tempt fate, as a few seconds later, there was a loud clang of metal, and the train skidded to a stop. "Argh!" he cried. "I've got cramp!" And there he was, stuck, on the loneliest section of the entire railway.

Yona hopped down from the footplate and explained what had happened. "Yona see problem!" she said. "Valve gear on Rheneas is stuck. Next station not far. Yona think that Rheneas can make it there. Will you try, Rheneas?"

"I'll give it my best shot," Rheneas said grimly. He set off again in the pouring rain over the windswept moors and trees, his cylinder aching all the while. It was hard going for the old tank engine, and the train didn't make it easier at all, but he knew he had to try and complete the run. "If I fail," he thought, "the passengers will be cross and the railway will close!"

Everything went blurry thanks to the potent cocktail of tiredness and pain clouding his mind. He really didn't have the strength left in order to keep going, not even to make another turn of his wheels! But he made another turn, and another, and another, and another. After a long, hard journey, Rheneas arrived at Crovan's Gate, tired but triumphant. "I made it," he said quietly.

"Thanks for getting us home," said a man, whom Rheneas recognised as Mr Cup Cake, a local baker. "I'll be sure to tell the others about this railway, and how hard the engines work!"

Yona was proudest of all. "Rheneas is gallant old engine!" she said. "Rheneas shall be mended and made good as new!"



"...and," Skarloey smiled, as he finished his story, "Rheneas always was ready for another day."

The entire shed was in stunned silence, as people had been listening carefully to his story. Then Duncan ventured to speak. "Thanks for tellin' us that story Skarloey," he said. "I was wrong; passengers are important after all."

The next day, Rheneas returned from the mainland. Edward pushed his special truck into position, and a crane lowered him gently down onto the rails. A great chorus of whistles and cheers began from all assembled, and Rheneas was by far the happiest of them all. As Yona helped to free him from the supports, he smiled at Skarloey.

"You know," he said, with a smile, "this really helps an old engine feel he has really come home."

"And," added Mr Percival, "I heard glowing comments from the works staff about you, Yona. Or would you prefer Yvonne?"

"Yvonne is boring name!" Yona replied. "Yona prefer to be called Yona!"

Taking a moment to analyse the butchered English, Mr Percival smiled. "Yona, you shall be Rheneas' driver from now on. Welcome aboard!"

And truly was everybody happy that day.
> Blue Belles of England
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The bluebells are coming,
Aho! Aho!
The bluebells are coming,
Aho! Aho!"

"If ye must sing, Percy," grunted an exhausted Douglas, "can ye at least sing in tune? Besides, nobody writes songs about bluebells. They write songs about cambells-"

"Cambelts?" asked Bon-Bon. "Why would they write songs about mechanical components in cars?"

"Well, that Roger Taylor man did, didn't he?" Donald asked. "Anyways, writing songs about bluebells is nonsense. Bluebells cannot come anywhere. They grow in the ground, alongside those pesky rhodedendrons that destabilse embankments." Donald paused. "And it's 'cambells', not 'cambelts'. C- A- M- B- E- L- L- S."

"My song isn't daft!" Percy exclaimed, utterly indignant.

"Well, it is then," Douglas sighed. "I cairn fine about bluebells anyway. We have a song called 'The Bluebells of Scotland'-"

"These bluebells aren't flowers, silly!" Pinkie exclaimed. "They're engines!"

"Say what noo?" Douglas asked, now even more confused.

"One's coming over with his driver and his controller," Percy continued. "Did you not listen to Sir Toppham Hatt not telling us all about it this morning?"

"Bon-Bon and I were away," Douglas replied. "Some goods needed taking somewhere, and I was the only engine available at the time."

Percy's eyes looked sad. "Well," he said, "I'll have to tell you. Engines over on the mainland, steam, diesel, and electric, are not safe anymore. Nobody wants them anymore, not least the people who manage the railways who want to make the railways cheaper by not running trains."

"Sounds like ScotRail," Bon-Bon said dryly.

"So," Percy continued sadly, "they put them on old rusty sidings, or in yards next to the sea where the salt rusts their frames, and then they... they..." Percy almost couldn't continue, such was the upset in his eyes. "They cut them up for scrap!"

Douglas looked over. "There was a lot of that going on in Scotland when I was up there," he said. "If Donald and I hadn't escaped, we would have suffered the same fate, probably being a teaspoon now. I know exactly what's causing it; it's those diesels their bringing in to replace us. Something about them being cheaper and easier to run, not to mention more reliable." He scoffed. "Try telling that to commuters on the Borders Railway."

"Some diesels are nice," Percy said. "Look at Rusty and Daisy, for instance. Perfectly reasonable, I say. But the majority do seem to be bad, like that Class 08 who made a mess at Tidmouth and attempted to frame Duck for slander."

"Aye," Douglas said. "I wouldn't trust one myself. But what I caenna understan', is all yer blitherin' aboot bluebells."

"There's no need to be rude!" Bon-Bon scolded the tender engine.

"I'm a plain speakin' en-"

Douglas, that's not only the wrong story, but the entirely wrong character. It's like HiT Entertainment are writing this one!

Pinkie took up the story, apparently unaware of the shenanigans going on above in the editing room. "These Bluebells are nice people who want to save engines. They've created a railway called the Bluebell Railway, in Sussex, that runs from Sheffield Park to East Grinstead, both in East Sussex. Engines can escape there, and be safe."

"Sort of like us here," Douglas noted. "Remember that Jinty who helped out a little while back? He said he lived at this Haworth place, the same sort of thing, you know."

Percy chimed in as well. "Yes, indeed. Engines escape there, and if they are ill or in need of repairs, people come together to mend them, and make them run again. They get their own livery, all the coal and water they need (usually imported from Poland), and pull trains as well."

"What a marvellous idea!" Bon-Bon smiled. "It's sort of like Sodor, only on a smaller scale!"

"That Braw hearin'," Douglas smiled in addition to Bon-Bon's pre-existing grin.

"Yes," Percy said as well. "According to Sir Toppham Hatt, the first engine to escape there was an engine called Stepney, named after a place in London. He's running all the way here under his own power, alongside his driver and controller are coming with him."

"What if those diesels catch him?" Douglas asked.

"Apparently," Pinkie said, "there's no danger of that. The train is routed to run to avoid them. And Stepney's a match for any diesel, I can tell you."

Douglas was in awe. "What a brave engine!" he cried. "Fancy fightin' his way through all of those diesels just to see us!"

"Lock over there!" shouted Percy. "The station's crowded!"

"How can I lock?" Douglas snorted. "I'm not a corkscrew, am I?"

"There's no train though!" Percy called. But he was wrong. The signal dropped, and a train rushed toward them. The engine was small and squat, with tanks mounted alongside his frames and a boiler that poked out of the front of them. He had a splasher over his front driving wheel, and a tall cab with a white roof, with a bunker at the back. His left hand tank had an air brake ejector attached, which panted noisily as he puffed through, whistling loudly all the while. The number 55 was written on his cabside, and the words 'STEPNEY' were written in white letters.

"Hello!" he called. "Nice to see you!" And he vanished onwards, into the distance, a white plume of steam echoing from his funnel and cheers reverberating around the station as he started the last stage of his journey.

Bon-Bon looked at Pinkie. "Does the driver look familiar to you?" she asked.

At Knapford, Rarity and James had just arrived with a passenger train, and were looking forward to a rest. "That was a long run!" James exclaimed.

"Indeed, darling," Rarity replied, as she hopped off the footplate. "I do say, there's a slight smudge on your dome. That needs cleaning. In the meantime, we shall have a rest; a cup of tea is in order."

Just then, she noticed a small tank engine running round his train, and coming to a stop at the other end of his coaches.

"Thanks for the run, Sweetie!" he said, with a smile, speaking in a broad Cockney accent.

"No problem!" said a high-pitched, cheerful voice. "Anything for a friend of mine!"

Rarity froze. "Could it be?" she asked, as the driver stepped into view. It was a girl with white skin, green eyes, and pink and purple hair haphazardly mashed together. She wore pink boots with yellow straps, a yellow skirt, a white and pink T-shirt, and a pink jacket with a silver buckle. She also had a hairband in her hair.

The girl suddenly glanced over. "Rarity?" she asked.

Rarity could hold back no longer. "Sweetie Belle!" she cried, running over and hugging the younger girl. "It really has been far too long!"

Stepney looked over. "So, this is the Rarity you've been telling me about," he said.

"Yep!" Sweetie Belle replied. "She's my sister!"

"Is that a nickname?" James asked.

"Her real name is Stephanie," Rarity smiled. "But I think Sweetie Belle suits her so much better. Don't you?"

Sweetie Belle nodded. "It's great to be here. Living with mom and dad in East Grinstead is fun, but I like the change of scenery."

"Well," Rarity smiled, "I hope you enjoy the change of scenery. In the meantime, you must tell me everything that has happened down in Sussex, and I must teach you in the ways we do things on Sodor!"
> Stepney's Special
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning came, and in Carousel Boutique (Rarity's home in Knapford), Rarity and Sweetie Belle rose from their beds and went downstairs for breakfast. Rarity put some toast on whilst Sweetie Belle poured some cereal.

"So," Rarity asked her sister, "did you have a good run down from East Grinstead?"

"Yep!" Sweetie Belle replied, picking up a spoon and digging into her cheerios. "Ran smoothly up to Brighton, then to Battersea, transferred over to the West Coast Main Line via the North London Line, up to Barrow in Furness via Carnforth, and finally through Vicarstown to here."

"How did you meet Stepney? He seems to like you," Rarity asked.

"That's quite the story," her sister answered. "We found him on a siding in a place called Hayling Island, alongside several other engines on display. He seemed quite battered, and had been hit by a truck full of sugar a few days earlier, being shunted by a careless S100 tank engine."

"That's an American one, isn't it?" Rarity said. "That must have been quite the mess to clean up."

"Tell me about it. Well, I got to cleaning him, and he told me that he had been there for days with the other engines, who had all been withdrawn alongside him. His parts were old, and he said he couldn't work for much longer, but I was sure this wasn't the case. He seemed quite withdrawn, until I told him I was a member of the Bluebell Railway."

"How did he react?" Rarity asked.

"He was the happiest I had ever seen an engine. I pursuaded the manager to buy him, and then myself and a team moved him to Sheffield Park, repaired the damage, and repainted him. In return, he asked if I could be his driver, and we've been together ever since."

"I've heard through the grapevine (and not the Railway Grapevine, mind) that they have saved other engines. Have they?"

"Oh yes!" Sweetie Belle nodded, her eyes aglow. "We have more than 30 engines at Sheffield Park, the largest private collection in Britain. Amongst the oldest are 323 and 27, a pair of P Class dock shunters used at Chatham docks until 1960. The manager, of course, chose to give them names. 323 became Bluebell, and 27 became Primrose. Some say he was wrong to do it, and they became a bit cocky afterwards, but they work hard alongside their drivers. All engines should have names, I think. Imagine if we only referred to people by numbers!"

"Quite right," Rarity nodded, her toast finally ready. She popped it onto a plate, put some butter and jam on it, and then sat down opposite Sweetie Belle. "What other engines are there?"

"We also have Adams, named after his builder. His number is 488, and they used him at a place called Axeminster until 1963. He's a wonderful engine, and can pull away with most passenger trains on the quiet days. He and Bluebell often topped and tailed trains in the old days. Then there's Cromford. He's interesting."

"How so?"

"He's from London originally, built for the North London Railway, and his number is 58850. He was then moved to a place called Cromford in Derbyshire, to work a section of railway called Hopton Incline. At 1 in 13, it was the steepest adhesion worked railway in Britain!"

"And I thought getting up Gordon's hill was hard enough!" Rarity exclaimed. "You didn't have any trouble there, did you?"

"No, not at all," Sweetie Belle replied. "Then there's Baxter. He's quite the celebrity. An industrial who worked at a quarry. You wouldn't like him; he has quite the foul mouth!"

"Good gracious!" Rarity cried. "Whomever purchased him needs to give him lessons in etiquette!"

"Oh well," Sweetie Belle sighed. "I don't mean to sound rude, but Stepney and I don't get out much more. The trains are too long and heavy for him, and they tend to use the S15 or 9F most days. What we would like is some work to do whilst we're here."

"Well," Rarity smiled, "I'll speak to Sir Toppham Hatt and see what I can do for you two."



Rarity was true to her word, and soon Stepney and Sweetie Belle were put to work alongside Duck and Apple Bloom shunting Knapford yard. It wasn't long before engine and driver struck up a firm friendship. Later that day, Thomas came by for a while, and then headed out on a train. But no sooner had the train left, than a great commotion started up.

"What's goin' on?" Apple Bloom asked, looking concerned.

"I don't know," Duck replied.



Later still, the signal box suddenly went crazy, as the buzzer sounded out a rarely heard code. 1-5-5. "What?" the signalman asked. "Surely that's a mistake, as that's the code for a special train!" Then another set of codes went off. "Ah, it is a special!" he said.

Meanwhile, Thomas sat at a red light before the station. "What's going on?" he grumbled. "Why are we being held here?"

"I don't know," Twilight replied. "Don't ask me!"

Just then, in the distance, they heard an unfamiliar puffing noise, and a pair of headlamps sat level in front rolled towards them. Express headcode, it was, and Stepney rolled out of the gloom, illuminated by the station lights. Pulling one coach, he stopped at the signal box, and Sweetie Belle handed the token over to the signalman. Stepney then whistled, and puffed away into the night.

"What?" Thomas said. "Bust my buffers, I've never seen anything like that!" But he was cross the next morning. "Shunting on my own branchline?" he exclaimed. "It's a complete disgrace, I tell you!"

"On the railway where we work," Sweetie Belle said to him, as Stepney rolled to a halt outside the yard, "we're glad when we get anything to do."

"And sorry about that," Stepney added. "But the train was a special. An important passenger came to the station after you'd gone, and said he had to get home. So, Sweetie Belle and I provided a high speed run home for him. Duck would've taken it, but he and his driver Pudding Spoon-"

"APPLE BLOOM," Sweetie Belle reminded him.

"But he and his driver Apple Bloom let us take it. We had a smooth run, no record breaking of course."

"How about I show you the road?" Thomas suggested.

"Of course," Stepney smiled. "Always defer to local knowledge, that's what I say."

Thomas was so flattered he immediately forgot to be cross, and set about telling them the way.
> Train Stops Play
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepney and Sweetie Belle were thoroughly enjoying their visit to Sodor. They were busy talking with the others, and seemed to be very happy with their first time on the island.

"You," said Stepney, "are lucky. Your railway is long, but not too long that smaller engines cannot work there, and you have plenty to do, both passenger and freight, which again can be handled by smaller engines. I miss that sort of thing, you see."

"What do you mean?" Pinkie asked, surprised.

"On the Bluebell," Sweetie Belle explained, "we usually only come out on quiet days or gala weekends. There's rarely much work in the yards that cannot be handled by the big engines, and Stepney's just too small to pull the heavier trains we see most weekends."

Percy glanced over in astonishment. Most engines, as well we know, simply regard trucks as a nuisance, and to hear an engine saying he wanted to take a goods train was a surprise to them indeed. "If you're shut up in a shed for the most part," he said, "it's no wonder you two have been working so enthusiastically the last few days."

"Thank you," Stepney replied.

"If you'd like," Percy continued, "you can take mine. You'll need to ask Pinkie though."

"No problem!" Pinkie exclaimed. "Now you two have fun on the line!"



Stepney set off on his way, with Percy not far behind. Stepney made a wonderful sound as he puffed down the line, steam pouring from his funnel and his exhaust barking like a true Terrier (which, given he was a Terrier, was entirely apt). He and Sweetie Belle hauled the trucks to the harbour, and dropped them off in the sidings to be emptied and taken away. They then picked up some empties and headed back down the line. They steamed past beautiful fields and over great embankments, through forests and up steep gradients, with the Bluebells growing all around them.

"This is just like home!" Stepney smiled, looking around him. "Don't you agree?"

"Yep!" Sweetie Belle replied, looking out of the cab window. "It's a lovely sunny day. And look! The local cricket team's out playing too!"

And they were. Standing in the field, clad all in white (with some waiting around), were the cricket players. Some had gloves, and others had bats, and it seemed as if they had just started playing. Stepney brought his eyes up to see a red signal up ahead. "Brakes, driver!" he called.

Sweetie Belle slammed the brakes on, and the train came to a halt. "OH COME ON!" she cried. "We were going so smoothly too."

"Oh well," Stepney sighed. "Can't be helped. At least we can watch the game whilst we're here. It's just like that spot between Sheffield Park and Horsted Keynes where the cricket club is, isn't it?"



As the game progressed, the ball flew back and forth. It flew towards the wicket, but then the batsman readied to strike. He saw the ball fly towards him, brought the bat back, and swung. He hit the ball perfectly, too perfectly as a matter of fact. It sailed high into the air, down, and landed in one of the trucks of Stepney's train.

"Stop!" called the umpire. But it was too late. The signal dropped, and Stepney was off on his way along the line, producing a fine cloud of steam, and vanishing into the distance.

"Let's go!" Stepney called. "As nice as it was watching the game, we have somewhere to go and places to be."

Sweetie Belle sighed. "I will never understand how you find watching men throw a ball back and forth interesting, Stepney."



"Our one and only ball!" called one of the players.

"Well, we need to improve our budget for balls, don't we?" said another.

The players then ran to an old car parked outside that was painted red, and had a large frontal grille. She looked more like she belonged in a museum than on the roads, but off along the roads she went. "Come on Caroline!" the players called. "The chase is on!"

Caroline groaned as she roared along the road. Stepney was by no means going particularly fast, and Caroline caught up fairly quickly. "Toot! Toot!" she called. "Give the players their ball back, please!"

But Stepney was too far ahead to hear them, and raced onwards down the line with the missing ball. Sweetie Belle looked back and suddenly heard the honking of Caroline's horn. "If they want a race," she said, "we'll give them a race. Floor it, Stepney!" and she reached back for his regulator, cranking it to full open and winding back his cutoff as far as she dared.

"It's not often I get to go fast!" Stepney called. "Whoohoo!"

But Caroline wasn't having fun. She raced along at twice her usual speed. "This speed is not good for my system!" she exclaimed. "It'll fuse all my circuits!" she exclaimed, as she backfired for the third time that stretch of road. Suddenly, she went round a bend, and looked confused. "Hold on a minute, we've already been down this stretch of road."

Up ahead was a tunnel, and Caroline cheered. "Hoorah!" she cried. "That silly train and it's driver have gone into a tunnel, and we can't catch them. Hoorah!"

But she was wrong, as the driver suddenly floored the accelerator, and off they went once more, flying up and down the hills and steep roads at a terrific pace- far faster than Caroline was meant to go as she flew over the same tunnel roof for the third time in a row. She raced into the station goods yard and came to a stop with a bang. Stepney looked over in mild surprise as Sweetie Belle sat on his footplate, enjoying an orange squash.

One of the cricketers piled out and spoke to them. "Excuse me," he said, speaking to the station master, "Your train set off with our ball."

"I'm not the driver," the station master replied. "The girl is."

The cricketer snorted with laughter. "Little girls driving steam engines," he said. "Whatever next?"

Sweetie Belle sighed, and got up, walking over to the cricketer. "What is it?"

"Our batsman knocked a ball into your trucks by accident. We tried to get your attention but you sped off instead."

"So that's what that was all about," said Stepney. "Well, sorry about that. It'll be in the trucks over there." The ball was found in the third truck from the guard's van.

"We must be getting back now," said the player.

"Good luck with that," Sweetie Belle said. "That car looks toasted." And Caroline was, letting off steam and fumes. "Wait! How about we transport you back to the pitch as a way to make it up to you?"

"Good idea, Sweetie Belle!" said the station master. I'll clear it with the signalman right away!"

They loaded Caroline onto a flatbed truck, and coupled a brakevan to it. They hauled the train back to the pitch, and this time enjoyed watching the game together, without causing any problems this time, and Caroline even enjoyed herself. "Thanks for bringing me back, you two!" she said. "Trains sure are useful; they can save the wear on a poor car's wheels!"
> Bowled Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and Stepney and Sweetie Belle's visit to the Island of Sodor was close to its conclusion. The pair had worked their way into the hearts of the islanders with their kind ways and eagerness to please, and Sir Toppham Hatt spoke to them one morning.

"Thank you, both of you!" he said to them. "You two have been very helpful indeed, and have pulled your weight comfortably. We shall miss you both very much."

"Yeah," Apple Bloom said quietly, "Ah will too." She had become quite good friends with Sweetie Belle, and in truth didn't want to see her go. However, she had little time to think before Sir Toppham Hatt spoke again.

"All of you have worked very hard," he said. "However, it is obvious that you need help, and to this end I have hired a diesel to help out. Please do your best to avoid any trouble or possible disturbances." He walked away.

Duck sighed. "I'd have thought the experience with the Class 08 and his prat of a driver would have taught him not to trust diesels," he said. He remembered all too well when Diesel and Silver Spoon had tried to frame him and Apple Bloom for bullying, but had been sent away in disgrace. Last anybody had heard, they were at Bounds Green depot near London.

"Another difficult diesel," James said. "Brilliant. And this weekend looked to be so nice too."

"I know, darling," Rarity sighed. "I just hope the driver isn't a bore."

Sweetie Belle laughed. "Rarity, you haven't changed a bit since I last met you!"



The diesel arrived the next day. He had a long bonnet on either end, and cooling fans on top of his roof. He had a green stripe running down his frames, with a main body painted a darker red. He had the British Railways late crest on his side, and the number D261 painted on the cabside.

"Not bad," he said. "I've seen worse. At least you're all clean, unlike those engines based at Holbeck."

"That's Leeds, isn't it?" asked his driver. She had yellow skin and two tone white and purple hair, complemented by purple eyes and blue eyeliner. She wore black shoes, a purple tartan skirt, and a purple jacket. "I'm glad to be away from that mess of a place. Stay in the south, if you ask me!"

"Quite right!" the diesel gaffawed.

The engines were stunned at the diesel's rudeness. But before they could say anything, the diesel went on. "It's not your fault really, this island's behind the times. Get some diesels instead. A touch of oil, a turn of the key, and I'm off and away."

"As if we'd want Whistlers around us all the time!" Gordon shouted. "Go back to making noise near Bedford!"

"They have to fuss about you lot for hours," the girl snorted. "And yes, Class 40s are so much better. The name's Upper Crust, by the way, Ursula Charles is so last season."

The engines were furious, and held an indignation meeting the very next morning. Their drivers were also on hand to provide some information.

"Disgraceful!" said Gordon.

"Disgusting!" put in James.

"Despicable!" finished Henry.

"Do you ever say anything else?" Rainbow Dash asked rhetorically.

"Ta speak to us in that way!" Donald boomed. "It's ta teach him a lesson we'd be wantin'!"

"Anybody got any bright ideas?" Lyra asked. "Because I'm right out of them right now, I have to admit."

"Wait," Bon-Bon said. "Diesels need air for their engines to run, right?"

A smirk suddenly formed on Lyra's face. "I have an idea," she said, grinning like an idiot. Her chance came sooner than later, as the diesel was being fired up for passenger work and receiving a work test. Upper Crust hopped into the cab, and started the engine. A whistling noise echoed from the engine as the diesel slowly began to roll forward. The wind picked up as the diesel moved off the siding and towards the mainline.

At that moment, Lyra dashed forward, and knocked the inspector's bowler hat off of his head! It flew through the air to a place unknown. But the diesel was unaware. "Look at me, Duck, Stepney!" he cried. "I'll show you small country engines what the best of big city engines can do."

"Ah dear," Apple Bloom sighed. "He's from the Metropolitan elite."

Just then, there was a loud rumbling noise, and the engine began to shake. Then it happened, as the engine stalled, and cut out altogether. The diesel came to a complete stop. "What?" he asked.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom nearly fell over with laughter. Stepney and Duck helped to push the diesel back into the shed, and only then did it become apparent what had happened. There was a bowler hat, lodged in the air intake.

"My hat!" the inspector cried. "It was that girl who knocked it off my head!"

"I knew it was an act of sabotage!" said the diesel.

"Shush you," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "And bother your hat," he said to the inspector. "Now we have no engine with which to take the train."

"Please sir," asked Duck. "Can Stepney and I take it? It's our last day together, and I want a good run to remember our friendship by."

"I'd like that very much, sir," Stepney added.

"Very well," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "Off you go, the train's waiting!"



"Now then," said Sir Toppham Hatt, once the two engines were coupled up, "you two need to get it to Marron. Gordon will take the train the rest of the way to Vicarstown, where another engine will take it on to Carnforth. Are you two ready?"

"Ah'm ready!" Apple Bloom called. "Are ya ready, Duck?"

"Let's show them how Great Western engines do things!" the pannier tank replied.

"I'm so excited I could burst!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed. "I'd rather not, though, that'd be messy."

"Bluebells forever!" Stepney cried. The train moved off, out of the station, and both engines reached the mainline. They opened up on the sprint, and flew along at high speed. "Think you can keep up?" Stepney asked.

"Is that a challenge?" Duck asked, with a smile. The train thundered down the line, but began to slow as they went over Gordon's Hill. Duck was doing the bulk of the work here. "I thought you wanted me to keep up!"

"Just checking you!" Stepney replied, as Sweetie Belle checked his gauges.

"We're a bit low on water!" she called.

"Good thin' we ain't goin' far!" Apple Bloom called, as they flew along. At last, they cleared the top, and came to a stop at Marron station where Gordon was sitting in a siding.

"You. Were. AWESOME!" Rainbow Dash cried, looking at the pair of engines.

"You're early," Gordon smiled. "That's one in the buffers for old diesel back there."

"They're still pulling the bits of bowler hat out, apparently," Stepney told Gordon. Gordon pulled away, and Stepney was released from the train.

Stepney looked at his driver as she hopped off to operate the water crane. "That was a good day!" he exclaimed.

But Sweetie Belle wasn't happy. "If it was so happy," she said, "then... why do I feel like crying?"



The next day, Sir Toppham Hatt came by the shed to find Stepney looking at him, and Sweetie Belle leaning on his footplate. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Sir," Stepney asked, "I request to remain on Sodor. I've already spoken with my controller, and he's happy for me to stay here if you are."

"Whatever for?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. "Haven't you got friends there?"

"There's so little to do," he said. "I mostly take up useful space. Here, I can help you in any way I can."

"Besides," Sweetie Belle added, "Rarity says she wants to see more of me. She's already offered the spare room at Carousel Boutique for me to stay."

"You're Rarity's sister?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked. Sweetie Belle just looked at him in astonishment.

"You've only just figured that out?"

"Erm, anyway," Sir Toppham Hatt said quickly, "given the circumstances, I am happy for you two to become honorary members of the North Western locomotive fleet. This saves me needing to buy a Boxcab from America anyway."

Apple Bloom ran over from Duck's footplate and tackle hugged Sweetie Belle. "Ah'm so glad yer stayin'!" she said. "We've got so much ta do. Ah gotta introduce ya to mah folks!"

"I'd love to meet them," Sweetie Belle replied. "Friends forever!"

"No," Stepney said. He glanced over to Duck, who smiled. "Bluebells Forever!" they chorused, and a great chorus of cheers and whistles started up from the shed.



As for the diesel, however, he'd left quite a while earlier. He left nothing but a nasty smell, and a battered bowler hat.
> Mountain Engine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Handel and Gallus had both had a bad day. The old carriages, Agnes, Ruth, Jemima, Lucy, and Beatrice, had never really liked either of them, and had never forgiven them for shunting them roughly all those months ago. As a result, they had been very awkward with them, and had made them slip to a standstill twice on the grades. Not surprisingly, they were cross.

"Seriously, do those coaches never stop holding grudges?" Gallus complained, taking out his cleaning kit and removing some grime from Sir Handel's piston valves.

"I agree! Those foolish cattle trucks should be scrapped!" Sir Handel added.

"Take that back, now," Skarloey fumed. Truth be told, he never liked hearing engines bad mouthing the old coaches, and as such he was quite upset to hear this. "Those old coaches need care and respect, not bad names."

"I agree entirely," Rheneas added. "Now take my advice, Sir Handel, and be thankful we're not a mountain railway."

"My old line was pretty mountainous," Sir Handel replied. "We had these engines which had faces on either end, and two power bogies on either end. Come to think of it, they looked a bit like diesels. There's one at that Ffestiniog place, called Merddin Emrys. Anyways, what the Stephenson is a mountain railway?"

"Mountain railway be railway that climbs mountains!" Yona told him.

"How steep are these lines?" Sir Handel asked. "Anything beyond 1 in 14 is more or less impossible for an engine."

"It varies from railway to railway," Ocellus said. "There's one in Switzerland that does 1 in 9."

"Don't pull my leg!" Gallus snorted. "That's impossible."

"It is possible," Rheneas smiled. "There's one not far from here."

A fierce argument started, until Donald came to a stop outside the shed with a flatbed. Tied down to it was an odd looking engine, painted purple. He had inside double frames, six small wheels, and a stovepipe chimney with a flap mounted to it. His boiler tiled downward toward the rails, and his cylinders looked as if they were fitted back to front.

"Could you please be quiet?" asked a voice. A girl stepped off the footplate of the engine. She had lavender skin and purple, pink, and blue hair, done up in a bun. She also wore a pair of black, square framed glasses, and had purple eyes. She wore a pair of black shoes, purple socks, a tartan skirt, a turquoise, long sleeved shirt, a purple waistcoat, and a black tie around her neck.

Ocellus looked in confusion. "Twilight?" she asked.

"How do you know me?" she asked, confused.

"We all know you!" said Skarloey. "You're Thomas' driver!"

"I don't know a Thomas," the girl replied. "I'm new here. But yes, my name's Twilight Sparkle. I was asked to come down here to help Culdee after his refit at Winterthur."

"Where?" asked Sir Handel.

"Winterthur," the odd engine replied. "My name is Culdee, and I work on a mountain railway near here. It's called Culdee Fell, and I've worked there a long time. Twilight here is American, but her father is employed by SLM, the company that overhauled me, and so they invited her to operate me here."

"Told you," Skarloey said to Sir Handel, who simply looked cross.

"Where am I, exactly?" Culdee asked. "Am I nearly home?"

"You're at Crovan's Gate," Gallus said, as he walked around the other side of Sir Handel to get a better view.

"Ah!" Culdee smiled. "I'm almost home. Just a straight shot down the line, up the branch to Peel Godred, and I'm back on my own track."

"How do you climb mountains?" asked Skarloey. "You must be clever to do so; our wheels would slip!"

"I'm not clever really," Culdee smiled. "I'll let Twilight explain, she can do it far better than I can."

"You're too kind," Twilight answered. "Basically, Culdee is fitted with a pair of gear wheels. These wheels have a special cog mounted to them, which slot into a pair of rails with notches fitted to them, or teeth. These teeth roll forward up the mountain, and if Culdee should slip, he won't roll back, but be held in place."

"Why does he need two?" Rheneas enquired.

"In the old days," Culdee answered, "they used a system invented by a Swiss person called Riggenbach. That had one cog wheel, but that was prone to slipping. So, another Swiss person, called Abt, added a second wheel as a backup should the first fail. Rather 'abt', don't you think?"

Everybody groaned at the dreadful pun. "If you can go up, how about going down?" asked Sir Handel. "Wouldn't you get stuck, or roll back?"

"We have good brakes," Culdee replied. "And we rely on the coaches too."

"Our coaches," Rheneas said, "are sometimes silly and play tricks on us."

Culdee sighed. "Our coaches would never behave in such a way," he said. "Twilight did driver training on one of my cousins at the Brienz Rothorn Railway, and one of the coaches there was bad. So they took his wheels off and turned him into a restaurant! Anyway, there was one time I was frightened I would derail. Very frightened indeed."

"What happened?" asked Yona. "Why big strong mountain engine scared?"

And so, Culdee began to tell the tale...





Kirk Machan station, 1899

Culdee looked about nervously. The line was yet to open, and there were some critical checks that still needed to be made to the engines before the line could open. The last thing they needed was something going wrong; he was aware of a gruesome accident that had occured on Snowdon three years earlier, and was keen to ensure such a thing did not repeat itself.

The two coaches coupled in front didn't ease his nerves. He'd heard from a Swiss engine at Winterthur that taking more than one coach was dangerous. The five of them had been woken up that morning, and he had been picked for a special train up the mountain. His driver jumped onboard his cab. "Come on, Culdee!" he said. "The inspector wants us to go to the top of the mountain and back again, to do some final checks!"

"OK driver," Culdee replied, and whistled nervously. His regulator was opened, and he steamed away into the distance. The run up to the summit went as normal, nothing to worry about. He was soon backed up to a very steep section of track, which led right down to a steep, tight curve over a sharp drop.

The Inspector looked at Culdee's driver. "Brakes off!" he demanded. "Let him roll!"

"What?" Culdee asked in shock. But it was too late, as the driver had done as instructed. The train gathered pace down the very steep gradient. Culdee slammed his eyes shut in horror. If he came off at that curve, it was certain death for him and all onboard the train.

The driver was getting similarly jumpy, and reached for the brake handle. The inspector slapped it away. "Hands off!" he said.

"Are you crazy?" the driver shouted. "You're going to get us killed! There's no way we'll hold that bend at this speed!"

Culdee then remembered something that had been said to him back at the works. He was fitted with a safety feature called automatic brakes, which he could apply without the driver's intervention in case the driver was incapacitated for whatever reason. "Here goes nothing!" he said, and brought them on to full force. There was a jolt in the rest of the train, and a loud bang as the couplings slammed together. But within a few seconds, and moments before they hit the curve, the train stopped.

The inspector smiled. "Good work Culdee!" he said. "You're fit to run here!"

Culdee's face was white, and he didn't reply, still shaking out of fright.





"I'm generally not frightened now," Culdee said calmly. "I know I can stop safely on any grade, and the safety features are there to help me."
> Bad Look-out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Skarloey, Rheneas, Ocellus, and Yona were busy talking with Culdee and Twilight, when Duncan stormed in. He was in a frightful mood, and his temper was boiling. Sir Handel rolled in not much after

"Here we go," Rheneas smiled.

"Why does the Thin Cont-"

"Mr Percival to you!" Skarloey corrected.

Gallus sighed. "Spending time with Duck has clearly rubbed off on you."

"Why does Mr Percival always take the side of the coaches?" Duncan fumed. "Those silly coaches pushed me, again. Mr Percival claims they didn't, and instead chose to blame the whole thing on me. Claims I kept a 'bad lookout', whatever that means. He always picks on us. It's not fair!"

"Agreed," Smoulder sighed. "'We've no money to mend you, so if it happens again you'll sit at the back of the shed'. Rubbish! This railway makes plenty of money every year from tourists!"

Skarloey sighed, and looked as Rheneas. Rheneas simply rolled his eyes in response. "As you were saying, Culdee," the saddle tank said, "you had two coaches on your trial run up the mountain. Do you ever run with two nowadays?"

"No," Culdee replied. "It's unsafe. The line is so steep that each engine is only allowed one, and we each have our own personal coach. Mine is called Catherine, or Katherine depending on which edition you are reading. I know her well, and she knows me quite well as well. This is vital for mountain working."

"Why?" Sir Handel asked. "She's only a coach!"

"Not any old coach," Culdee replied. "You engines usually pull your coaches, and can see ahead of yourselves for at least half of the journey. Your line has a loop, hasn't it? Anyway, we push our coaches up the mountain, and it's difficult to see where you are going if you have a coach in front of you. So, our coaches watch the line ahead of us, and warn us of any dangers. The guard is watching too, of course, sitting the in front of the coach, but it never hurts to have another pair of eyes. Besides, Catherine is so clever I instantly know if something is wrong just from how she reacts."

"That must take a load off of your mind," Twilight said, with a smile.

"But not off my buffers!" Culdee retorted.

"You don't have buffers," Smoulder said.

"The ascent is the hardest part of the line. It's only 4 or so miles, but the line is so steep I'm having to work hard the entire time. My old fireman had a hard time, and I hope Twilight is up to the job. On the way back, however, we simply roll with the cog wheels to control our speed. And don't forget the automatic brakes either. Very useful things."

"With the roll down the hill," Sir Handel sighed, "and the automatic brakes, it sounds like a marvellous rest cure."

"Downhill is actually quite hard on a driver," Ocellus observed. "You need to keep a constant eye on speed and apply the brakes accordingly."

"Quite right," Culdee replied. "That is exactly the mistake that Godred made."

"Who?" asked everybody in unison.

"Godred," Culdee said sadly, "was one of my brothers. As I mentioned yesterday, there were five of us built together in 1896. Godred was the first to roll off the production line, and he was pretty stuck up. He was named after the first King of Sodor, but seemed to perform well for many years. Then he got a new driver, a girl called Sandra Ford, or Sunny Flare as most of us called her. I still remember the day I last spoke to them..."





"You need to be more careful, Godred," said Culdee one morning, looking over at a nearly identical tank engine to him. "When you roll down that hill, you look anywhere but the track. You'll have an accident if you keep that up!"

"Pooh! Nonsense!" Godred snorted. "I've got my automatic brakes, haven't I? Not only that, Sunny Flare's got her air brake which she can put on, so what more can you want?"

"More caution," Culdee replied. "It never hurts."

"Thanks for the tip, dearie," Sunny Flare snorted. She was dressed in the railway's uniform of black shoes, purple socks, a tartan skirt and a turquoise shirt with a purple jacket. She had, however, customised it with a bow tie. She had turqoise skin, and pink and purple hair, combined with a pair of purple eyes. "But I don't need an engine to tell me how to do my job, thank you very much."

"No engine can stop at once, if he isn't ready to obey the driver's controls," Culdee went on. "And that's the first thing you should have learned here."

"We'd love to chat," Godred replied, "but we've got passengers to take. See you later." With a whistle, he pulled away to the station.



Later that day, Culdee paused at the midway station of Devil's Back to await the train coming down the mountain, being worked by Godred. In the distance he heard a loud puffing, and there was Godred, as usual paying no attention to what was going on. Then he spotted something in the rails. "Look out!" Culdee cried. "There's a rock in the rack rail!"

Sunny Flare heard him, and slammed on Godred's brake, but it was too late. She jumped from the speeding train and landed nearby, and Godred was forced off the rails, disengaging the gripper rail and causing him to tip over. He fell over the side and fell straight downwards. A few minutes after that, there was a deafening explosion, followed by a massive cloud of steam rising from a crater on the side of the mountain.

Thankfully, the coach hadn't derailed. It was still on the track, and the guard had stopped the train. But of Godred, there was... nothing.





"Godred never did learn sense," Culdee finished sadly. "And he paid for it with his life. Once we had finished fishing the remains up from the pit, we dumped them in the back of the shed. And the wreckage got smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left at all."

"What happened?" Duncan asked.

Culdee looked down sadly. "The management used Godred's parts to mend us, as that winter they couldn't send us to Switzerland for repairs."

Sir Handel and Duncan said nothing for the rest of the day. Nobody thought to mention that Culdee had made the whole thing up.
> Danger Points
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a short journey from Crovan's Gate to the junction at Killdane, Douglas and his cargo headed up through Abbey and stopped at Kirk Machan. It was here that the Culdee Fell Railway formally began, and Culdee sighed as the crane was started, lowering him gently onto the rails. Twilight oversaw the delicate procedure, but also watching was a Mr Walter Richards, the general manager of the line. Culdee was soon lowered down onto the rails, and sighed as he looked about the local area.

"It's good to be home," he said happily, as Twilight lit his fire and checked him over quickly. "I'm looking forward to running up the line and meeting with some of my friends. And a run with Catherine, too! That will be nice."

"You may do such a thing," said Mr Richards. "I shall telephone the yard immediately, and tell them to release Catherine for work as soon as possible."

Culdee soon had enough steam to start his run, and rolled along the line to the shed, his rack wheels clanking as they rolled along the track. He was soon coupled up to Catherine, and they set off up the line for a short trip to Skarloey Road and back.

"It's wonderful to see you again," Catherine said, as they rolled up a viaduct from just beyond the first station and began to climb into the hills. "The other engines have worked well, but I prefer working with you, to be honest. Who's the new driver?"

"Her name is Twilight," Culdee replied. "I met her whilst at Winterthur. Her father, an American engineer, mostly works at the Mount Washington Cog Railway in New Hampshire, but he was here to see how the Swiss do things. It was suggested Twilight help me run in here, and so here I am now, being run in."

"Keep an eye out for Lord Harry," Catherine warned. "I had to go with him and his driver lately. He's a terror, but she's as blunt as a broken sword. They take risks, and scare everybody."

"I'll be sure to give him a piece of my mind," Culdee replied, as they came to a stop at Shiloh. Sitting on a siding were two old friends of his, Ernest and Wilfred. They were both of the same design as him, and their drivers both looked out. Earnest was being driven by a girl with yellow skin, purple eyes, and pink and blue hair, dressed in the company uniform. Wilfred was being driven by a boy with grey skin and black hair, complemented with blue eyes. He wore a similar outfit to the girl, but for obvious reasons wore purple slacks instead of a skirt.

"Hello Culdee!" called Ernest. "How was Switzerland?"

"Excellent, thank you," Culdee smiled. "I somewhat miss the yodelling marmots. How are you, Sour Sweet and Jet Set?" Their real names were Sarah Scott and James Smith, but Sour Sweet had earned her nickname due to suffering from bipolar disorder, sometimes causing her mood to swing mid sentence. Jet was nice enough, but could get a little full of himself.

"Oh, it's been wonderful whilst you've been away," Sour Sweet began. "Except for that Lord Harry!" she finished, annoyed.

"I agree," Wilfred sighed.

"Who is this Lord Harry?" Culdee asked. It was just then he noticed Jet Set looking closely. "Is something wrong?"

"Twilight?" Jet Set asked.

Twilight facepalmed. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Anyway," Eric told Culdee, "Lord Harry is one of the new superheated ones that arrived whilst you and Shane Dooiney were away for repairs. The other two, Alaric and Eric, are good, quiet engines, but Lord Harry's an absolute horror to work with. It's no wonder that Sugarcoat was the only person they could pursuade to work with him."

"Who?" Twilight asked.

"Susan Colt," Sour Sweet explained. "Blunt as a rusty razer."

"We'll see about that," said Culdee darkly.



Later that day, Culdee was sat in the siding at Kirk Machan station, when in rolled Lord Harry, dragging an unfortunate victim I mean, a passenger coach! Stood in his cab was a girl with light blue skin that seemed closer to a purple hue. She also had silver hair, combined with purple eyes, and wore orange glasses on her face. She wore the standard uniform that female employees wore, with the jacket and a bow tie. What was it with bow ties around here?

Lord Harry was grumbling. He resembled Culdee, just with a curved running board rather than a straight one. "These coaches are silly!" he complained. "They never want to come with me, and I can't understand why!"

"You're too reckless," Culdee replied coldly.

"That's nothing to do with it!" Lord Harry replied. "I can go twice your speed in perfect safety, being modern, up to date, and fitted with the latest safety features. Why, I could do this run with my eyes shut!"

"He is indeed correct," Sugarcoat said. "I am the one who operates all the controls and checks the brakes."

"We don't take risks on mountain railways," said Culdee.

"It's not a risk!" Lord Harry answered. "Why, with my superheat-"

"Superheat?" Culdee asked. "Conceit, more like. Why, you remind me of Godred-"

"Ernest and Wilfred stated that you made that story up to frighten younger engines, and that is the fact. There is no record of a Godred in the railway's logbooks."

Lord Harry laughed. "Ooh, you just got burned!" And he stormed away, thundering up the mountain at terrifying speeds.

"Slow down!" the coach shouted. "We're in danger, and you're taking risks!"

"Don't be silly," Sugarcoat replied. "The safety features make such danger impossible."

"Besides," Lord Harry said, "variety is the spice of life!"

Every wise mountain engine and driver knows you cannot take risks of any sort. The points, in particular, lack the guard rails that the other parts of the line have, and as such must be taken slowly. But Lord Harry had forgotten this, and was too focused on what he was going to say to Culdee when he next met him.

"Slow down!" Sugarcoat instructed, and applied the brakes.

"There's absolutely no danger!" Lord Harry snorted, as he charged up the final grade and into the top station, hitting the pointwork with a loud crash.



At the bottom station, Twilight received a telephone call, and the manager came over to see her. "That stupid engine has blocked the points at Culdee Fell summit!" he said. "Get Culdee and the tool van immediately; we're going up there to clean the mess."

"Yes sir!" Twilight replied, and she and Culdee went and assembled a supply train. The light was fading when they got to the top station. Lord Harry was stuck on top of the points, which made it impossible for trains to enter or exit the station. Wilfred sat there with his coach, unable to start his journey down, and the coach Lord Harry had been pushing sat in the station, unable to continue into the station. There was quite the traffic jam!

The manager cleared everybody away from the danger zone as Culdee buffered up behind Lord Harry, whilst the workmen lifted him up into the air. He then pulled back, and Lord Harry was back on. Sugarcoat nor Lord Harry did anything to help.

"Hey, Wilfred!" called Culdee. "Can you see this wreck behind you?"

"What wreck?" asked Jet Set. "I can only see a blocked set of points."

"Looks like Lord Harry to me," Wilfred said.

"But it can't be," Twilight said, adjusting her glasses. "This new design, and I quote, 'is fitted with the newest safety features, is fully up to date, and has superheat. Why, it can climb the hill in half the time that the older saturated versions could possibly climb!'"

Once the passengers had been recovered, Lord Harry was pulled down the hill and dumped in the shed, where Mr Richards was waiting. He looked furious.

"That idiot coach did it!" Lord Harry exclaimed. "Had she not been talking all the time, Sugarcoat and I-"

"No stories!" Mr Richards boomed. "That accident was your fault, and your fault alone. You upset our passengers and damaged yourself taking that point at too high a speed."

"Lord Harry wasn't the one who was the cheapskate and failed to put basic mountain railway safety features required by English law onto pointwork where engines could potentially derail and cause a problem like this," Sugarcoat replied.

Mr Richards stood stunned. "Do not get snippy with me, young lady, or else you can forget about working here! We cannot have engines and drivers taking risks on the railway. We shall put you both back at the shed until I decide what to do with you!" And he walked quickly away.

Sugarcoat shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that's good," she said. "Because I quit." And she walked off briskly as well, leaving Lord Harry sitting there in the dark.
> Devil's Back
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord Harry sat in the shed for many days. Or rather, I should say that Number 6 sat in the back of the shed for several days. Mr Richards had decided, as a punishment, to take his name away and simply refer to him by his builder's number.
"Come on, Number 6!" Mr Richards shouted, one morning, "you have work to do!"

"I have a name, you know," Number 6 replied. "Stripping off a nameplate does not take a name away."

Mr Richard's eyes narrowed. "You are not Lord Harry, and you are not a living being. You are a pile of metal parts with a number attached."

"How would you like it if somebody said you were no longer called Mr Richards but were now called Mr Bottomley?" asked a voice. Stepping forward through the shed was Sugarcoat. "And he isn't a lump of metal, as the fact he can reply to your words makes clear."

Mr Richards sighed. "He is still Number 6," he said. "But, regardless, both of you have work to do, as you, Sugarcoat, are the only person capable of driving Number 6. The passengers don't trust either of you, I'm afraid, so both of you are on freight duty. You've got the truck."

Alaric sniggered. "I pity the poor soul who has to get that thing up the mountain."

"Yeah!" said his driver, a girl with peach skin and orange hair with multicoloured blue hair, as well as being dressed in the company uniform. Her name was India Zabel, or Indigo Zap to her friends. "Too bad, Sugarcoat!"

"Nice to see you too, Indigo Zap," Sugarcoat sighed as she opened Number 6's regulator. "The sooner we get this job over the better."

At first, they were taking supplies to the top of the mountain. There was a large hotel for the climbers, who would travel up by foot, and then spend the night at the hotel. Then, they would come down the next day by train. Due to its isolated position, there was no road to service the hotel, which was at 2,048 feet above sea level, so all food and drink, as well as cleaning supplies and bedding, had to be brought in by train. It was for this purpose the truck was built, a vehicle built by sticking a 12 ton van body on the front of a low loader. Number 6 found the work dreadfully boring, not to mention he was hugely overpowered for it anyway.

"It's important work!" Wilfred told him. "And it's tough too!"

"Tough?" Number 6 snorted. "That lot? Don't be ridiculous. That thing weighs about as much as a piece of paper."

"Have you ever been across Devil's Back in a raging storm?" Culdee asked.

"What's Devil's Back?" asked Twilight.

"Just beyond the station of the same name is an exposed ridge on the line," Culdee explained. "There is absolutely no cover at all, and the wind and the rain whip around you like angry bees. We call it Devil's Back, and it is similar to Clogwyn over on Snowdon. It's also where Godred-"

"Doesn't exist!" everybody chorused.

"When the wind and wet are high," Culdee went on, "the passenger trains terminate at Devil's Back, and then go back down. But no matter what, the supply and stores trains must get through."

"I see," Number 6 replied. He hadn't been paying much attention, and rolled away for his next job.

Jet Set sighed. "Let's hope he isn't up there when it's bad. He'd fall off!"



A few days later, Number 6 was waiting with the truck at Devil's Back, waiting for Eric to come down. At last he rolled through, with his driver, a girl with pink skin, wild green hair, and orange eyes.

"Yeah!" she cried. "That storm was wicked!" Her voice carried over the noise coming from her headphones, which appeared to be loud rock music.

"Take my heed!" called Eric. "The weather is very bad. Watch your footing! Lemon Tart, turn the music down!" And he puffed on down.

"I don't have feet," Number 6 said.

"That was Lemon Zest," Sugarcoat sighed. "Or Lara Zablocki. I really don't care." The clock now showed 5:15 in the afternoon, and the station master came out. 

"You two!" he called. "Best be getting going. According to the weather forecast there'll be a storm in half an hour. Get the staff and get back down here as fast as you can!" He went back indoors to set the points when suddenly his phone went. "Yes?" he asked. "Good gracious!" he cried. "Well? They need rescue? I'll send a train at once!"

He went back outdoors with his crew of men. "Fill the ballast tanks!" he shouted. "And weigh the truck down with sandbags! Sugarcoat! Get Number 6 refilled, make him as heavy as possible!"

"What is all this?" Number 6 asked, confused.

"There's been a climbing accident!" shouted the station master. "One of the climbers is seriously injured. Culdee and Catherine are coming up with a doctor, but there's no way they could take this storm. "You're much heavier, as is the truck. You'll be able to take it, but do you think you can do it?"

"I'll try, sir," Number 6 replied, seeing a shot at redemption. A few minutes later, Culdee arrived, and the doctor switched over into the truck. Twilight looked out of Culdee's cab to Sugarcoat.

"Good luck," she said. "And if you don't make it back, I want you to know it was an honour working with you."

"Thanks," Sugarcoat replied. "It was an honour knowing you too."

"Culdee?" Number 6 asked. "If I don't make it back... I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"All is forgiven," Culdee replied. Just then the signal dropped, and Number 6 thundered away into the pouring rain and howling wind. "He's got guts, I'll give you that."



The wind roared around them and the rain lashed down as Number 6 did his best on the climb. The wind slammed into him, and he wobbled briefly. "By Riggenbach, this is bad!" he cried.

Culdee whistled loudly, and he, Twilight, and Catherine cheered loudly. "Keep it up! You can do it!" Number 6 heard them for a moment, but then they were gone. He, Sugarcoat, and the truck were on their own.

The wind tore around them, battering the truck in front of him. It shook back and forth as it ascended the climb, groaning as it did so.

"We're halfway there!" called Sugarcoat. "Come on, keep it up!"

It was tough work, but Number 6 knew he couldn't give up. With one last blast of steam, and a loud roar of triumph, he rolled to a stop in Summet station. The medical crews were there to help the injured aboard, and Number 6 then made the return trip to Devil's Back without any challenge. Eventually, the climbers were whisked to hospital, but the next day their leader came by the depot.

"Hello!" he said to Number 6. "Thanks for the help. My friend Patrick was injured trying to save me. He succeeded, and is now recovering well in hospital."

"I can't claim sole responsibility," Number 6 replied. "Without Sugarcoat, I'd never have got there."

"Strickly, without the truck we'd not have been much help at all," Sugarcoat said. "But I wish Patrick the very best. Say, would you like the name Patrick?"

"It's better than just 'Number 6'!" Number 6, or Patrick, as he was now, laughed. Patrick is now a well-valued member of the Culdee Fell family, and is prepared to take risks if need be. But he knows now that it is stupid to simply take risks for the sake of showing off.
> Crosspatch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, not again!" Skarloey complained, as Ocellus once again got to work on polishing him, running a rag around the brass on his chimney. "I know you value clean engines, but I daresay this is getting a bit ridiculous."

"Well," Ocellus replied, her face a smile, "you must look your best for your 150th birthday, after all. It's in a few days, may I remind you, and the last thing Mr Percival wants is filthy engines!"

"You're just a fusspot!" Skarloey teased, with a grin.

"And you're just a crosspatch!" Ocellis teased back, and went to work, polishing the old engine vigorously.

"That statement was indeed correct, a long time ago," Skarloey replied. "Would you like to hear the story?"

"Oh!" Ocellus replied. "Yes please!"

And so, Skarloey began. "A long, long time ago, I was built, in 1865 at the Fletcher Jennings works in Whitehaven, England. That's in the county of Cumberland, now part of Cumbria. I was built alongside Rheneas, Talyllyn, and Dolgoch."

"That's your twin, isn't it?" asked Ocellus.

"Yes," Skarloey smiled. "Or, at least Talyllyn is. Dolgoch is the twin of Rheneas, and they live on the Talyllyn Railway near Twywn. They don't actually go to Talyllyn, as that would be quite the feat of engineering! Anyways, they are 150 as well, but at the time were turned out in green. Rheneas and myself were red. I only had four wheels at the time, and I lacked a cab. The same was true of Talyllyn as well. We both thought we were wonderful, we did. We talked about how good we'd look pulling coaches."

"What about trucks?" Ocellus ventured.

"Well, we had no use for those," Skarloey replied. "Alas, our time together was short, so I was sent away on a big ship to Sodor. That ship wobbled all over the place, and it was a horrible ride. I arrived at the port of Kirk Ronan, which is on the now closed line from Kellsthorpe Road to Kirk Ronan via Rolf's Castle. There, I was kept waiting for a while, and then something happened that I'd rather not remember..."





Kirk Ronan, 1865.

Skarloey was not having a good time. The port, for some ridiculous reason, lacked a proper crane, and this was most improper. What sort of port lacks a crane? Hey, that rhymes. Anyways, Skarloey was most cross. Somebody had thought it was a bright idea to lower him down using the ships' derricks, which was most uncomfortable.

"Watch what you're doing!" he shouted. "I'm not a bat! Don't leave me hanging!"

"You can't be high fived!" called a worker. "You have no hands!"

Enough of the anachronistic jokes. After a long while, and an agonising wait in mid air, Skarloey was finally lowered onto a flat wagon, being pushed by a steam engine with four wheels, no cab, and a massive square saddle tank mounted on top of his boiler. He had the number 2 painted on his side, and the letters S & M painted as well. "So," he said, with a gentle Scottish accent. "You're the wee new engine on the railway, eh?"

"Erm, yes?" Skarloey replied, as they got on their way. This was the first engine he had spoken to since leaving Whitehaven, and he seemed quite nice.

"I hope you will put some order into those foolish trucks at Crovan's Gate!" the engine continued. "My name's Neil, by the way, of the Sodor and Mainland Railway. And you?"

"Skarloey."

Neil's driver laughed, a man with red skin and brown eyes, clad from head to toe in grey. "That's the name of the lake up in the woods. Ironically, Skarloey means lake in Sudric! Anyways, those trucks have caused people all sorts of bother. I hope you can knock some sense into them!"

Skarloey frowned. He didn't like the sound of that."





"What happened next?" Ocellus asked.

"They dropped me off at Crovan's Gate, put me on the rails, and left me in the shed until the next morning. I was very homesick, and just wanted some company. I wished Rheneas was there." Skarloey paused. "The next day, the trucks were everywhere, filled with slate, and other myriad goods. Just then, some empty ones rolled in by themselves! I was very confused, but then I learned they were worked by gravity. Then I did something very foolish indeed..."





Crovan's Gate, 1865.

"Come on, Skarloey!" shouted a workman, a man with blue skin, an orange beard, and purple eyes, as well as a Scottish accent. "You need to pull the slate trucks back up the line!"

"Can't they go up by the gravity thing?" Skarloey asked, very confused.

"Gravity only brings things down," the workman explained. "We need horses, both biological and iron, such as yourself, to pull them up. And that is what you are going to do."

"What?" Skarloey explained. "I'm here to pull coaches, not trucks! I won't!"

"We'll see about that," the workman said, and walked away. A few minutes later, a tall man with grey skin and a white beard appeared, dressed in a top hat and a smart suit with a brown overcoat. This was Mister Starswirl, the manager, and he looked at Skarloey.

"Hello, Skarloey!" he said. "We're going to steam you for work."

"Can I pull coaches?" Skarloey asked.

"No," Mr Starswirl replied. "We have no passengers for the coaches to carry. For now, it's freight."

"Well, phooey to that!" Skarloey exclaimed. His fire burned poorly, and black smoke shot out of his funnel and cylinder cocks. The crews looked less than pleased, but Skarloey didn't really care. He just wanted to pull coaches.

They tried again the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the one after that. But still Skarloey went nowhere, looking cross.

Eventually, they gave up. "Very well," said Mr Starswirl. "Be a crosspatch. But we're not going to look at your sulky face for a second longer. Cover him up!"

And they did, laying a giant tarpauling over him.





"I was sorry, of course," Skarloey said sadly. "But I was left there for many days, feeling ever so sorry."

"What happened next?" asked Ocellus.

"Yes, please tell us!" said some voices behind her. Ocellus turned in surprise. Standing there was a crowd of people, listening intently to Skarloey's story.
> Bucking Bronco
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I was lonely and miserable," Skarloey continued. "But then at last, Mr Starswirl came to see me..."





Crovan's Gate, 1865.

Mr Starswirl lifted away the tarpaulin to reveal a sad looking Skarloey underneath it. "I hope," he said, "that you are now a better engine than you were before, and will behave and do as you are told."

"Oh sir," Skarloey said, "I am, and I will."

"Very good," Mr Starswirl smiled, and pulled the tarpaulin away. "Did you recognise the worker yesterday who spoke to you?"

"I'm afraid I didn't," Skarloey replied.

"That was Mr Robert Hool, or Rockhoof, as I believe you know him," replied Mr Starswirl. "He helped to build you at Whitehaven, and I've asked him to be your driver. How does that sound?"

"Old Mr Rockhoof, my driver?" Skarloey said, with a smile. "Yes sir, thank you sir!"





"I very much liked Mr Rockhoof," Skarloey smiled. "Soon, he had my fire going, and I went to work. We were needed to finish construction of the railway before the inspectors arrived. We worked so hard and so fast that before we knew it, we had finished the railway."

"What happened next?" asked Ocellus. She had been listening very intently, and her hands sat on her knees as Skarloey told his story.

"The next thing of note was that Rheneas arrived. He lacked a cab then, too, and was a very different temprament to myself. He worked slowly, without fuss or care, and tended not to get as bouncy as I did. The trucks often played tricks on me to annoy me. But they quickly learned that messing about with Rheneas was a bridge too far!" He paused, before continuing his story. "One day, I came up to him, rather excited, and with some good news..."





Crovan's Gate, 1865.

Skarloey skidded to a stop next to Rheneas, who looked over with a disinterested glance.

"I'm taking the inspectors tomorrow!" Skarloey cried, smiling all the while. "I'm taking the inspectors train tomorrow! Isn';t that exciting? What do you think of that, eh Rheneas?"

Rheneas looked over with a scowl. "You mind your running quality," he said sternly. "The last thing that the inspectors will want is a bucking bronco pulling their train."

"Don't swear!" exclaimed Rockhoof.

"Don't be silly!" Skarloey laughed. "I won't bounce, I run perfectly smoothly!" and he flew off to collect the coaches. "Hello girls!" he called, as Rockhoof coupled him to the coaches.

"Who is it?" asked one of the coaches, whom we know to be Agnes.

"It's an engine," added Beatrice, the guard's van, at the other end of the train closest to Skarloey. "He's come to take us out for a run today!"

"Beware of strange engines!" boomed Agnes. "They do strange things, after all. Be on your guard!"

"The guard's only just arrived!" Beatrice exclaimed. And indeed he had, a fact to which Ruth, Jemima and Lucy sighed in relief. Little did anybody know at the time, but the Thin Clergyman made a clerical error in ommitting Lucy from his recording of the tale.

Skarloey pulled the coahces to the station, but Agness was still talking loudly about strange engines. "Be on your guard! Be on your guard!" she said over and over again. Not that Skarloey took any notice, of course. The young tank engine backed down onto Agnes, who was marshalled at the front of the train.

"I'm looking forward to this!" Skarloey chortled, as Rockhoof backed him down onto his train.

Agnes glared. "You may look harmless," she said darkly. "But we will be watching you. Never forget that. One bit of nonsense and you will regret it."

"Never mind her," Rockhoof told Skarloey. "She's just an old fusspot, despite being quite a new coach." And, when the guard had blown his whistle, they were away. It was a lovely journey up the line, with Skarloey calling at every station on the line; Cross-ny-Cuirn, Glennock, Rheneas (or the Falls station) and Skarloey (or the lake station). At each station, Mr Starswirl and the inspectors got out in order to oversee that the arrangements were good and proper. On the return run via Lakeside, Mr Starswirl boarded Skarloey's footplate for the run back to Crovan's Gate.

"I don't understand how you make it look so easy!" Mr Starswirl exclaimed. "May I give driving him a go, if you wouldn't mind?"

"You may, sir!" Rockhoof replied.

Skarloey was happy. "First rate! First rate!" he chortled to himself, as they rolled smoothly along the track. Unbeknownst to anybody but the footplate crew, Skarloey began to bounce up and down. Alarmed, Mr Starswirl shut the regulator and slammed on the brakes. Too hard, as well. Skarloey's wheels locked, and the sudden deceleration caused the coaches to crash together, the buffers smacking into each other with a jolt.

"He's playing tricks!" Agnes boomed from the other end of the train. They surged into the locomotive, who continued to pitch about uncontrollably. Mr Starswirl grabbed for a handrail, missed it, and vanished into the undergrowth.

"Apply the van brakes!" Rockhoof shouted to the guard. "These coaches are nothing but trouble!" He reduced the brakes on Skarloey, so his wheels began rotating freely again, and then brought them on slowly, reducing the cutoff as he did so. Skarloey slowed down, then came to a smooth, safe stop. Just up the line was Mr Starswirl, whos legs were poking out of a bush. He was unhurt, but cross.

"I'm not riding on that bucking bronco again!" he boomed, and sat in Beatrice for the remainder of the journey. The directors complained that they had been hurt, when they really hadn't, and not surprisingly Skarloey became the scapegoat for the entire incident.

"Rheneas shall take the inspectors tomorrow!" one of them boomed pompously. "You, shall stay in the shed, out of sight. You are a very naughty engine!"

Skarloey slunk away dejectedly to the sheds. But the next day, Mr Starswirl came by to see him. "Sir, I'm sorry!" Skarloey pleaded. "I did try to behave!"

"Cheer up, it wasn't your fault," Mr Starswirl replied. "I was just a bit upset, that's all. But that doesn't justify how that director spoke to you, and I had a word with him. Those coaches caused the incident, and I made sure to give Agnes a piece of my mind. The inspectors have cleared the line for operation, with some minor improvements needed, but on the whole we are ready to operate!"

"That's good news, sir!" Skarloey replied.

"Yes indeed," Rockhoof smiled, as he did some polishing. "After that, I think you and I will have many more adventures together."





"They also advised I got some new wheels fitted, underneath my cab," Skarloey finished. "But what happened with those is a tale for another time."
> Stick-in-the-Mud
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The manager was indeed as good as his word," Skarloey smiled. "I returned from the works in Whitehaven a few weeks later, complete with a new set of trailing wheels. However, it seems that the workmen were in an especially kind mood, as I was also fitted with some else... a cab!" He paused. "Apparently, a cab was all the rage, and the newest thing for an engine. Very few had one, and it cheered me up greatly."

"It cheered you up too much," Rheneas snorted from nearby. "And those coaches didn't help. 'Oh, look at him, his name is Skarloey, with six wheels and a cab, what a fine thing he is'!"

"If you're not careful," Skarloey sighed, "Mattel will write you out of the series in favour of a female character who has the exact same personality as you, just a far more hideous livery! Did you see the pictures of the Spam Can they did in yellow recently? Horrifying, isn't it?"

Rheneas went pale. "Yellow is a most horrible colour for an engine," he said. "It collects dirt and dust too easily, and makes them look awful. Why, I heard rumours of Duncan being repainted into yellow-"

"Don't give Smoulder ideas!" called Sandbar from across the shed.

"Anyway," Rheneas sighed, "he got too big for his wheels over it."

"That he did," Skarloey said. "You wouldn't mind telling this one, would you?"

And so, Rheneas began...





Crovan's Gate, 1865.

Skarloey would not stop talking about his new wheels and his new cab. It was driving Rheneas and his driver absolutely round the bend (pun not intended).

"You should get up to date and get a cab like me!" Skarloey said, with a grin, as Rockhoof oiled him round.

"No thank you," Rheneas said. "I'm more up to date then you are, and if anything you look like a snail with that ridiculous cab, as if you have a house on your back. Besides, you're not exactly fast."

"Are you suggesting I and Mr Rockhoof are slow?" Skarloey replied.

"You'll find it's 'me and Mr Rockhoof," Rheneas' driver corrected. He was a chap with yellow skin and red hair, complemented with blue eyes. Dressed in a red jacket with a white shirt, brown trousers and black shoes, this man was a Mr Francis Matthews, or Flash Magnus to most people he knew.

"And," Rheneas added, "who was late three times last week?"

"There's no proof that was my fault," Skarloey protested. "Besides, you're a rude stick in the mud!"

Rockhoof sighed. "However do we stay alive with these two always going at it?" he asked. Both engines were ultimately put back to back in order to stop them from arguing with one another. It lasted for several days, and was quite sad when you think about it, two brothers refusing to talk to one another over something so trivial. But that all changed one day.

Skarloey had the morning train one wet, rainy day. It had been raining for days, and Skarloey was annoyed. "Why am I always picked on for rainy days?" he complained.

"You," Rockhoof commented, "have a cab. Rheneas does not. You, therefore, are better suited for the cold weather and heavy rain, as I can stay dry!"

"I'd have thought you'd be used to the rain," Flash snorted. "Doesn't it rain upwards in Scotland?"

"Isn't Lincolnshire permanently flooded?" Rockhoof retorted. Flash was from there, and the fact most of his county was under water was something of a sore spot for him.

Skarloey simply grumbled to himself as Rockhoof moved him off, and Flash warmed Rheneas up for some shunting. A fresh load of slate had arrived the previous day, and it needed moving to the transfer sidings in order to be taken to places far away. This is the train the-

"Hey! That's the wrong story, Mr. Narrator!"

Pinkie, you weren't even alive at the time this story took place!

"That doesn't matter. I SEE EVERYTHING!"

OK... As I was saying, Rheneas was being warmed up for his duties, and an hour had passed. At last, he had the steam pressure to move off and get on his way, when a gravity wagon rolled to a stop just outside the depot with a railway employee in it.

"We need help!" he said to Flash. "There's been a landslip just beyond Cross-ny-Cuirn, and Skarloey ran straight into it. We need help, as I say, and you're the only crew available."

"Come on, Rheneas!" Flash called. "Let's go!"

"I'm sorry Mr Magnus," Rheneas said sadly. "But I cannot, in good faith, help out that young fool. He's too swanky, and called me a stick in the mud. He can stay stuck in the mud himself, if he wants."

"What's gotten into you?" Flash cried. "Does Mr Rockhoof deserve to stay stuck in the mud? Do the quarry workers deserve to stay stuck in the mud? Back in Lincolnshire, I encountered something similar. Some water had sucked in a fellow worker, whom I wasn't close to, but I put it to one side and hauled him out."

Rheneas looked very sad. "That will never do," he said. "We must get Mr Rockhoof and the quarry workers out of the mud, but we'll see about Skarloey."

The pair collected a truck or two, and proceeded up the line to the landslide. The workers had cleaned the bulk of the mess up with shovels and muscle, and Skarloey had been pushed out of the way. He hissed a bit, but nobody paid any attention. Rheneas took the train on, allowing Rockhoof to clean and oil the engine. At the end of the day, Rheneas towed Skarloey back to the shed.

"Sorry for being a bother," Skarloey said to Rheneas. "That was quite the mess."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Rheneas replied. "At least nobody was hurt." He then stopped as Skarloey started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You weren't the stick in the mud!" Skarloey laughed. "I was the entire time! Oh, isn't life ironic?"





"Well, there ends the tale," Rheneas finished. "Seeing as the light is fading, we had probably get some sleep."

"Yeah," Yona said, checking her watch. "Rheneas and Skarloey have splendid old day, they shall have splendid birthday!"
> Duck and Dukes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"But I keep telling you," Duck said. "There are no Dukes left. They were either all scrapped or converted into Earl class locomotives. And I'm not aware of any of those engines surviving, despite how fine and stately they were."

"They're scrappin' people now?" Apple Bloom asked, in a panic. "That's horrifyin'!"

"They're not scrapping people!" Stepney snorted, as he came to a stop at Crovan's Gate platform with a stopping goods train. "Besides, what you said Duck was technically incorrect. An Earl was preserved."

"Indeed!" Sweetie Belle added. "9017 Earl of Berkeley. He currently lives in the shed at Sheffield Park."

"I didn't know that, and I never said no Earls survived!" Duck exclaimed. "Besides, my original point still stands that there are no Duke class locomotives left, irrespective of whether they were rebuilt or not. There are none left."

Peter Sam's eyes were as wide as dinner plates at this piece of news. "The Duke was scrapped?" he cried. "Mr Percival said that he was coming to open the new stretch of railway round the lake that was being repaired!"

"And now that he can't come, it means that Rheneas and Skarloey's birthday will be ruined!" Silverstream cried. "This is terrible!"

A few minutes later, Peter Sam rolled to a stop. "The Duke was scrapped!" he wailed sadly.

Sir Handel looked at him in horror. "WHAT?" he asked. "The Duke?"

"Who's this Duke?" Gallus asked. "I get the impression you and Peter Sam know more than you're letting on."

Sir Handel fell suspiciuously silent. Then Skarloey spoke up.

"I think," he said finally, "that Duck may well have been pulling your wheels, or failing that was getting mixed up."

"What is there to mix up?" Peter Sam continued. "He looked so serious!"

"People often do when they make jokes," Ocellus said quietly. "It's why I apparently miss them so often."

None of the other engines agreed, and they all devolved into a big argument, which was so loud that Mr Percival came out to speak to them.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Well, sir," Silverstream said, "Duck said that all the Dukes had been scrapped!"

"Well he's talking rubbish!" Mr Percival said. "And that driver of his isn't such a bright spark either. There's a change in tomorrow's plan," he told Skarloey. "You will meet the Duke at 11, not at 10:30 as previously agreed. That is all." And he hurried back to his office. "Something about Big Mickey picking Sir Toppham Hatt up again with his hook, no doubt," he sighed.

"If there is a duke," Duncan said quietly. But nobody was in the mood to argue.



The next morning, the engines were greeted by their drivers banging metal plates and saucers together, in an excited and roudy manner. Mr Percival even got in on the fun, and banged a metal cup with a plate. He then checked his watch. "Good heavens, look at the time!" he exclaimed. "It's time to go! Sir Handel, Duncan, go get some coaches! We have passengers to take up the line to Lakeside!"

Off they went, to the sidings, in order to get their coaches. Lining the platforms were excited people, all dressed in the fashions of 1865. Rheneas was working an authentic vintage train (although he still had his cab fitted), and for maximum authenticity Yona was dressed in the manner that Flash Magnus would dressed in have back in 1865. In front of his train was a television train, pulled by Peter Sam. This ran a little way ahead of them so that the BBC could properly record and broadcast the scenes to the entire nation. They ran slowly up the line, as there was no reason to hurry, whistling and cheering the entire way as they proceeded up the line toward the loop just beyond Lakeside station, which had only just come back into use due to much needed repairs. After a few minutes, the two trains were switched into a siding on the side of the station, and stopped, being held there for several minutes.

"Listen!" Yona called. "Loud noise in distance! Noise like steam whistle!"

Rheneas smiled. "Ah, good old Skarloey," he smiled. "Never one to miss an entrance, is he? At least this will reduce his disappointement over the Duke, I hope."

Skarloey rumbled to a stop, pulling another rake of vintage coaches, with a massive smile on his face. "I brought the Duke! I brought the Duke! I brought the Duke!" he exclaimed, looking over at Peter Sam.

A man stepped out of the front carriage, dressed in a suit with a top hat. He had the most spectular moustache on his face, and a beard to match. He took to Skarloey's footplate (although he let Ocellus moniter him for safety reasons), and drove him around the lake and back again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he called, as he brought Skarloey to a stop. "I am Sir Robert Norramby, the current Duke of Sodor. It is my great pleasure to declare the new lakeside loop line open!"

There was a loud cheer. And then Peter Sam asked an awkward question. "Sir," he asked, "are you real? Is this the real life?"

"Is it just fantasy?" added Silverstream, looking somewhat baffled.

There was a very awkward silence. But then the Duke just laughed. "Ah yes," he said. "Skarloey mentioned that you had been listening to Duck and Apple Bloom (delightful pair, Sweet Apple Acres was most marvellous), and I am glad to say that they have got confused. Duck was thinking of the Great Western 3252 class, or Dukes, and he was indeed correct that none of those survived. But they are named after people, and I am very much real."

"I'll have a word with Duck," Peter Sam said quietly. But then Sir Robert turned to Mr Percival.

"Congratulations on keeping your railway alive," he said. "It must be a record for both of your original engines to still be working 150 years on from when they were built, doing exactly what they were built to do. Long life to Skarloey, Rheneas, and all your engines and workers!"

Once the cheering had died away, Ocellus spoke up, quietly. "Excuse me sir, but Rheneas would like to say something."

"Indeed I would," Rheneas smiled. "I would like to thank you all for your kind wishes, and for this lovely 150th birthday party. But Skarloey and I are not the only record engines. Why, in Wales, our brothers, Talyllyn and Dolgoch, are still hard at work, 150 years on, and both are doing what they were built to do; taking passengers down the valleys and hills. Please visit them if you can, and wish them a happy 150 years, from Skarloey and Rheneas, their little old twins."

This story is dedicated in memory of LTC Rolt, 1910-1974.
> The Diseasel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bill and Ben are a pair of twins, who work at Brendam Docks on the Island of Sodor. This is located at the end of Edward's branchline, and both engines are nearly identical. Both of them are painted yellow, and are saddle tank locomotives. They both have four wheels, squat chimneys and domes, low, squat saddle tanks, and small cabs. The reason for these squat features is the fact they were built for a railway in Devon which had limited height clearances, and as a result they needed to be small in order to fit under the bridges and through the tunnels which characterised their branchline. However, it had closed in the 1950s, and both of them had been purchased by the Sodor China Clay Company for their own line, running from their quarry at Brendam Clay Pits down to Brendam docks, where the china clay is offloaded from the trucks and onto waiting ships to go all around the world (alongside racing cars, tank engines, and men in black suits and top hats hitchiking their way around the world). 

They have drivers, naturally enough. Bill is driven by a young girl with brown skin and red hair, matched by a pair of glowing green eyes. She has freckles on her cheeks, and typically wears a two tone brown long sleeved shirt, a pair of green slacks, and red trainers paired with white socks. Her name is Barbara Seldon, a name she absolutely hates with a passion, so most people call her Babs Seed. Ben, on the other hand, is driven by a girl with yellow hair and light pink skin. She typically wears a red and black striped shirt with a black skirt and red boots. Her name is Samantha Seldon, and she is Babs' older sister. Like Babs, she is usually referred to by her nickname of Sunflower Seed.

The work that Bill, Ben, and their drivers do is crucial for many industries. The china clay is needed for pottery, paint, and many other things. A typical day of work consists of them pulling loaded trucks to the harbour, and taking the empties back to be filled. They then take the full trucks to the harbour, and return the new empties. This pattern continues throughout the day until the work is done.

One day, the twins left some trucks next to the cranes to be unloaded, and took some empty trucks back with them. When they dropped these ones off at the harbour later that day, they were horrified to see that they were all gone! In their place were two pools of mysterious black liquid.

"Where have our trucks gone?" Bill asked, very surprised.

"They've vanished!" Ben replied. "Somebody's taken them!"

"Thanks for stating the obvious!" Bill snapped back. Babs got out of Bill's cab and bent down to smell the patch of black liquid.

"Hmm," she said, in her thick Bronx accent. "That's hydraulic fluid. Somethin's gone and taken the trucks, and it's probably a diesel."

"Jeepers!" Sunflower replied, in an equally thick accent. "That sounds bad."

"A what'll?" asked Bill, very confused.

"A dieseasel," Ben replied. "Remember, there's a notice about them in the shed. 'Coughs and sneezles spread diseasels'."

"Ah," Bill answered.

"You had a cough in your smokebox only a few days ago," Ben said, with a mean smile. "And then this diseasel had gone and stolen the trucks. It;s your fault these trucks are missing!"

"It isn't!"

"It is!"

"It isn't!"

"It is!"

"Stop arguin' guys!" Babs shouted. "Look, this diesel has gone and taken our trucks. We need ta go and get them back before it takes them further!"

Ben gasped. "But the dieseasel will magic us away like he did the trucks!"

"He won't magic us," Sunflower laughed. "We'll magic him. You two, to most observers, look exactly the same. So we'll remove your nameplates, shut the cab windows, and boy will that diesel get a nasty surprise!"

And that is exactly what they did. Both engines left the yard and puffed out onto the mainline, but with their small wheels, it took a while.

"It's in the yard at Wellsworth?" Babs asked, frustrated. "That's 20 miles away or somethin'!"

"If it was that far," Bill replied, "we'd have run out of coal and water!"

After a very long journey, they saw their trucks parked in a siding, ready to be moved onto the mainline. At the front of the train, something was revving. Ben stopped at the yard threshold, but Bill rolled forward, up the side of the siding. The tension mounted as dramatic piano music played in the background, before Bill rolled level with the diesel. He was very long indeed, painted dark green, and with the British Railways early crest on his side. He had six wheels on one bogie, and four wheels on the other. He had the number D5705 painted on his cabside, and he looked very cross. He looked at Bill grumpily. "Do you mind?" he snapped. "I'm trying to rest here."

Bill looked at him, Babs being very careful not to make a sound. "I'd like my trucks please," the tank engine said.

"These trucks are mine," the diesel replied. "I'm taking them to the yards at Knapford to be marshalled into a train going to Bridlington Goods Yard. Now go away."

"They say it's the hottest place in town!" exclaimed a voice, and the cab door swung open. Sat there was a man with greyish brown skin and black hair, with blue eyes to match. He wore a formal suit with a red tie that had a doller symbol on it. Otherwise, his attire was fairly typical for a train driver of the 1950s. "Anyways, you can't have these trucks. They're going to the mainland and that is final."

Bill pretended to be frightened. "You're a big bully, both of you!" he whimpered. "You'll be sorry!" and he sped away before the diesel could say anything.

And then the plan went into action. Ben flew forward on the other side, and whistled loudly. "Truck stealer!" he shouted, before shooting back into the yard.

Bill shot up the other side, and stopped moments later, whistling again, and then he went back. Ben then came forward again, and then retreated, his eyes spinning round and round as he did so.

This went on and on until the diesel's eyes nearly popped out. "STOP!" he cried. "YOU'RE MAKING ME AND MY DRIVER DIZZY!"

"I'm so Dizzy, my head is spinnin'!" Babs sang loudly, as she through open the cab door. Bill and Ben came to a stop on opposite sides of the diesel.

The diesel looked at Ben, then at Bill, and back to Ben again. "So, there are two of you?" he asked.

"Yes," Ben smiled. "We're twins."

The diesel laughed. "I might have known it."



Just then, Edward rolled to a stop. "Bill and Ben?" he asked in confusion. "What are you two doing here?"

"Yeah," Applejack added. "Ain't ya both supposed ta be shuntin' trucks in the harbour? Trucks Eddie and Ah are meant ta be takin' ta Tidmouth right now?"

"We're not playing!" Bill protested.

"That's right," Ben said. "We're rescuing our trucks from this diseasel, who took them without asking. Even you don't take our trucks without asking."

"But it's not the diesesel's fault," said Bill. "It's Ben's fault!"

"What?" Ben exclaimed. "MY FAULT?"

"You were the first to start talking about this dieseasel! It's your fault!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

"Enough!" Edward shouted. "There's no need to be rude. Why, this engine is a Metropolitan Vickers English Electric Type 2!"

"Or Class 28," said the diesel's driver.

Bill, Ben, Babs and Sunflower all looked very sorry. "Sorry," they mumbled.

"It's alright," the diesel replied. "I didn't understand about the arrangements, and neither did my driver. You can call me BoCo."

"But yer CoBo," Sunflower said, confused.

Applejack looked sternly. "Ah'm appalled that mah own cousins would act in this way. You four can make it up ta BoCo by collectin' his trucks fer him, and then takin' these ones back. And don't forget about the trucks for Eddie and me!"

As the two tank engines shuffled off, the driver glanced over to Applejack. "Hey, you're of the Apple family in Arlesburgh, right?" he asked.

"Er, yeah?" Applejack replied.

"Why, it's a pleasure to meet you!" he answered. "Name's Ford Roberts, but I'm usually called Filthy Rich, or just Rich."

"Those four meant no harm," Edward said, with a smile. "But they can be maddening!"

"Maddening is the word!" BoCo laughed.
> Buzz Buzz
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Trevor and Grand Pear were rattling around Wellsworth orchard. The harvest season at Sweet Apple Acres at Arlesburgh was long over, and as a result the pair were working on other parts of the island. Today saw them helping out at an orchard in Wellsworth, where the skies were blue, there was not a single cloud, the sun shone, and the apples hung from the trees. They were by no means ready for picking, but that was besides the point.

Moments later, James pulled up at a red signal just outside the station, and Trevor rumbled over to chat with him.

"Good morning Trevor!" shouted James, with a smile on his face. "You and Grand Pear look as bright and cheerful as my red paint!"

"Oh, we are," Trevor smiled. "It's great to be helping people out on the island, especially with my old driver, Grand Pear."

"How have things been keeping at your end, Rarity?" Grand Pear asked. "I imagine havin' an extra mouth ta feed at Carousel Boutique has kept thin's fun!"

"We do have double the income, with Sweetie Belle and Stepney helping out on the railway," Rarity replied. "But at least she has friends here. She's mentioned your granddaughter quite a few times, and they seem to have fun together."

"Tell me about it," Grand Pear smiled. "All that crusadin' they go on. But at least it gives Apple Bloom someone her age to have fun with."

"What's that buzzing sound?" James asked, hearing a distinct buzz buzz nearby.

"Those are bees," Trevor explained. "They are living in these white boxes called beehives. When they are ready, I'll be taking the boxes to Wellsworth station. The vicar says that these bees make good honey, and he's giving some to his friends on the island."

Just then, BoCo came to a stop at a signal in the opposite direction. "Be careful, you two!" he said. "Do not anger the bees, or else they may sting you. And trust me, being stung is no fun at all."

James looked over to BoCo. He didn't trust diesels at all, and not only that, hated being told what to do- especially by a diesel. He snorted away. At last, BoCo's signal dropped, and he pulled away. "Cheerio!" he called.

"Thanks for the apples!" Filthy Rich called to Grand Pear. "As of now, I'll be stocking Apple family products in my chain of shops across Britain!"

"No problem Rich!" Grand Pear replied, as the diesel and his driver vanished into the distance. He and Trevor then got back to work.



At Vicarstown docks, Bill and Ben scampered when BoCo rolled by. After a short trip, he rolled to a stop next to Duck, who was taking a break alongside Apple Bloom.

"Hello Duck!" BoCo called. "Hello Apple Bloom!"

"Howdy Mr BoCo!" Apple Bloom replied.

"You know Duck," BoCo smiled. "I was just remembering when those two tank engines and their drivers tried to make me give the trucks back. They nearly made my eyes pop out, but Edward and Applejack soon put them in order."

Apple Bloom sighed. "Yeah, Ah know. Bill's driver is mah cousin, and Applejack's one of the few people who can keep her in order apart from her parents."

"She's your big sister, isn't she?" Filthy Rich asked. "Thanks for the apples. My daughter was considering working here as well, so it's a relief to know there are so many drivers her age she can make friends with."

"Edward," said Duck suddenly, "is the only engine who can keep those two twins in order. I sometimes call them the bees."

"They do buzz around," BoCo sighed. "They're complete terrors."

Suddenly, James flew past. "Scared of bees, are we?" he snorted. "They're only insects, after all. Don't let that buzz box diesel tell you any different!"

Duck looked furious. "His name is BoCo," he said sternly. "And you need to apologise to Apple Bloom, as she is anaphylactic."

"Ah'm allergic ta bee stings!" Apple Bloom replied. 

"That's what anaphylactic means," Duck explained. "She nearly died when she was a little girl after a bee stung her."

"I don't really care," James said. "Even if hundreds of them crowded around me, I'd just blow steam and they'd buzz off!"

"That didn't work at London Bridge when a beehive broke open," BoCo said dryly.



A few days later, James was picking up passengers at Tidmouth. The passengers were boarding the train, and a number of beehives were being carried across the station on a porter's trolley. The porter, a Mr Edward Mallus, was nervous moving the beehives around, as he was allergic to bees. "Mind your backs!" he shouted.

Then, disaster struck. One of the beehives fell off the trolley and landed on the floor, splintering open in the process. Then a familiar buzzing sound started up. Mallus ran for it. "It's like Summersisle all over again!" he cried loudly. "Not the bees! NOT THE BEES!"

Upon hearing his cries, the station cleared in next to no time, leaving just Rarity and James, who had no idea what was going on. The bees flew around Rarity, and she made sure to keep very still to ensure they didn't land on her. But they landed on James' boiler, which was very warm.

"Buzz off! Buzz off!" James shouted loudly, and let off steam. A bee burnt himself on the boiler, and flew upwards.

"Revenge!" he cried loudly, and flew downwards, in the belief that James had burned him on purpose. It flew in front of his face, buzzed back and forth, and then landed on his nose, stinging it.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" cried James, who's nose was now red. "KAMIKAZE BEES!"

"Let's get out of here!" Rarity cried, and pulled open James' regulator. They sped away, not knowing nor caring they had left the coaches behind. First they tried spinning James on a turntable, which had no effect. Then they tried washing them off, which also didn't work. And then, they tried smoking them out in a tunnel. But that didn't work either. No matter what they tried, they couldn't get rid of the bees.

Just then, Stepney pulled up, and Sweetie Belle hopped off the footplate. "Rarity! Are you all right?" she asked.

"WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE TO YOU?" Rarity exploded.

Sweetie Belle shook a little. "Jeez Louise, calm down. All you need to do is get another hive, and the bees will fly into it. Stepney and I had to deal with something similar at Horsted Keynes once."



The Vicar of Wellsworth was waiting anxiously for James. He had been informed of the plan beforehand, and watched the line. Sure enough, James came to a stop, with Stepney coupled behind in case something went wrong. And sure enough, the bees flew off of James' boiler and landed inside the spare hive.

"Thanks for saving the bees," the Vicar said to James. "Except the one who stung you, but that couldn't be helped. It's a shame it isn't Christmas, or else we could call you James the Red Nosed Engine!"

Everybody thought it was very funny, even James, and they agreed to refer to James as the Bees Knees, which means they think he is even more useful than ever.
> Wrong Road
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas and Edward are both proud of their branchlines, as both provide crucial transportation of goods and people up and down the island. However, both are subject to light rail orders, which means that they have lower standards of engineering in response to having a strict speed limit of 25 miles per hour. This, in turn, means that the bridges, viaducts, and tunnels are not engineered to the same degree as those on the mainline. As a result, most of the heavier engines such as Gordon and Henry are not permitted to run on these lines, as the track would give way beneath their weight, leading to an accident, as well as confusion and delay. But if you had heard Gordon talking about the matter the other day, and had not read the above information, you would have thought that he had only allowed them to run on the mainline for another reason entirely!

"It's not fair!" grumbled Gordon loudly, not having had a good grumble in quite a while.

"What isn't fair?" Edward asked him, as he pushed his trucks into position nearby. "Tell me Gordon, what is the matter."

"Letting branch line diesels pull main line trains, that's what!" Gordon replied. "That Class 28... CoCo, or whatever he's called-"

"BoCo," Applejack said. "Coco is a friend of Rarity's. Though everybody's callin' her 'miss' all the time these days..."

"Anyway," Gordon continued, "that BoCo is most certainly a branchline engine, not a mainline engine."

"He does have a route availability of 6, Gordon," Rainbow Dash pointed out.

"Besides," Edward smiled, "I'm certain that, in return for taking your coaches, that BoCo will let you pull his trucks sometimes."

Gordon spluttered. "I won't pull BoCo's dirty trucks! I won't run on branch lines! That is final!"

"Why ever not?" Edward asked, with a smile. "Surely it would be a nice change of pace for you and Rainbow Dash, not having to always fly about and hurry from place to place."

"I doubt that Sir Toppham Hatt would even allow such a thing!" Gordon snorted, with a sneer on his face. "Branchlines are vulgar. End of discussion!" And he headed away to the station, with Edward following soon after.



In the evening on Sodor, two trains depart in rapid succession from Knapford, leaving from platforms 3 and 4 respectively. Both of them have the express headcode of two lamps on the front of the train. Gordon's train leaves the station first at 19:00, on a nonstop working from Knapford to Vicarstown. Edward's train pulls out of the station at 19:05, and also runs nonstop, just in his case to Brendam Docks. Normally, things run like clockwork. However, today a woman with a green floppy hat was saying goodbye to a friend.

At the front of the train, the signal arm for Gordon's train dropped into the green position, and Rainbow Dash looked back to look for the guard's flag. It was just then she saw something green waving toward the back of the train. "All clear!" she called. "Let's go, Gordon!"

Gordon whistled importantly. "Express coming through!" he called, and he puffed away, producing great jets of steam from his cylinder cocks and releasing smoke from his chimney as he rolled away into the night. But they hadn't been given clearance to go at all. Luggage, passengers, and the guard were all left stranded on the platform, and everyone was surprised. And very cross indeed.

By the time that Gordon had been stopped and sent back, Edward was already late. Not only that, his face was falling off as he departed on his way to Brendam.

As if the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. The signalman was not informed of the changes to the schedule, and believed that Edward was working the express. As a result, he was sent along the mainline to Vicarstown, leaving the passengers very annoyed indeed. And yes, Gordon was sent along the line to Brendam. When he had completed his run, it was too late for him to return to Tidmouth, and as a result was forced to spend the night there on a siding, in the cold and damp. Rainbow Dash also couldn't easily get home, and so slept on Gordon's footplate, using a jacket and pair of boots as a duvet and pillow respectively. As Gordon awoke the next morning, his eyes tired (alongside his face), Bill and Ben rolled into the yard. There were no trucks for them, but they didn't mind as there was something far more interesting sitting there.

"Jeepers!" exclaimed Babs. "Look at that! We don't often see those down here!"

"What is this blue object?" asked Bill.

"That's Gordon," replied Ben.

"It looks like Gordon," Sunflower said, with a wry smile, "but Gordon never comes down to Brendam. So therefore, it cannot be him."

"Yes!" Bill retorted. "He thinks branchlines are, and I quote, 'vulgar'."

Gordon pretended he hadn't heard as those four went on. "If it isn't Gordon," Ben said, "then it's a pile of old scrap iron. We'd better take it to the smelting yards."

"No!" Bill suggested. "How about we take it to the harbour and dump it in the sea? That'll be a far more efficient use of our time and effort. Don't you agree, Babs?"

Gordon looked horrified. "Stop!" he cried. "I am Gordon!" Just then, BoCo rumbled in with a goods train, and came to a stop on a nearby siding.

"Mr Rich, a little help here!" Rainbow Dash called.

"Yes!" Gordon cried. "Save us, BoCo!"

BoCo looked over. "Bill, Ben," he said. "If you don't behave, I'll take away these trucks I brought you. Now will you stop teasing Gordon?"

The two tank engines sped away, and Gordon looked over to BoCo, even as one of his eyes got stuck. "The little demons," he sighed. "How do you do it?"

"Years of experience," BoCo replied. Gordon still believes that BoCo saved his life, but we know that the twins were only teasing him... right?"
> Edward's Exploit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some visitors had come to the island in order to visit the railways, and see some of its more obscure sights. They had travelled on Thomas' branchline, flown over the island on Harold, and had even flown down the Skarloey railway on a gravity powered slate train. Bertie the Bus and Spike took them from Crovan's Gate to Knapford, so that they could travel on Edward to Brendam. The tour manager had specifically requested Edward for the trip, as he was the oldest operating standard gauge engine on the island, and as a result carried a certain novelty value about him. But Edward was having problems. Sparks flew from the rails as he tried to get the coaches moving, his wheels slipping furiously as he moved forward. Steam shot into the air as he struggled out of the station.

"Did you see him straining like that?" Henry asked.

"I hope Edward is OK," Fluttershy said. "I'm really worried he may get into trouble, and that would hurt Applejack!"

"There's nothing to worry about!" James exclaimed. "Edward does seem to be having trouble, but I doubt he'll have many problems."

Fluttershy pailed. "I'm certain I can find something to worry about," she said sadly. But then she smiled. "But it won't be Edward!"

Gordon snorted. "Rubbish!" he said. "Edward's putting on a truly pathetic performance. He should give up and be preserved, before it's too late. From what I remember there's a place called Lakeside where another Furness Railway engine lives."

Duck was furious. "Shut up!" he snapped. "And I don't care what Common Sense Media has to say about that! Edward's better than any of us."

"You tell 'em, Duck!" Apple Bloom chorused. "Eddie and mah big sis will be able ta keep goin', no matter what!"

"That's the right spirit from both of you!" BoCo smiled. "Edward may be old, but he'll surprise us all one day."

Just then, Edward shot forward, and began rolling smoothly down the mainline. "I've done it! I've done it!" he cried, with a smile on his face.

"Yee-hah!" Applejack cried. "We'll show 'em any day!" They sped along the line smoothly, and reached Brendam with minutes to spare. All in all, it was a good run, and Bill and Ben, as well as Babs and Sunflower, were delighted to see the visitors. They loved being photographed (well, Bill and Ben did. The jury's still out on whether Babs and Sunflower liked it), and both the engines took the visitors on a tour down to the China Clay Pits in a pair of brakevans. They showed them everything and anything, and the visitors had a most splendid time, being very impressed.



Afterwards, Edward and Applejack took the visitors back to the junction at Wellsworth, and then reversed directions to run to Vicarstown, where another train was waiting to take them onwards to Preston. As they ran along the line, the weather changed. It had previously been sunny, but then, slowly but surely, drops of rain began to fall from the sky. The rails became wet, and everywhere you looked it was wet, wet, wet. The situation went from already bad enough to even worse, as Edward's directional sanders failed completely. The guard rode on the front of the engine to drop sand onto the rails, but this had little effect. Most of it missed the rails completely and ended up in the ballast or on top of the sleepers. Then, it happened.

Edward's wheels started spinning uncontrollably. Applejack shut the regulator and reduced the cutoff, but to no effect. "The boiler's primed!" she shouted to the guard. And then it happened. There was a sickening crack, a loud bang, and the sound of tearing metal.

The train came to a screeching halt. "That doesn't look good," Edward said, feeling quite ill indeed. Applejack walked alongside him and inspected the damage. It was very bad. The splashers were torn and bent into the wrong shapes, and a crucial part was missing.

"Eddie, this is pretty bad," she said. "Yer inside cylinders are connected ta the drivin' wheels by a pair of rods, and linked ta them are a pair of cylinder valves. These are held on with a crankpin. One o' these sheered off, and the rod flew upwards, damagin' the siderods and breakin' the splashers."

"Is there a solution?" Edward asked, desparately. "I don't want to let these passengers down!"

Applejack took out a screwdriver and a hammer, and began to remove some parts. "Ah've removed the siderods on the damaged sides, in order ta reduce the strain. The only problem is, this means yer like a single wheeler." She then walked back along the train, adjusting the bars that held the couplings together, and then walked back to the front. "Ah've also loosened the couplin's on the coaches, so you have an easier time startin' away with yer coaches." She jumped back into the cab. "Can ya get these people home?"

"I'm going to try," Edward replied. "You can hold me to that." And sure enough, his wheels slipping furiously, he moved forward. The first coach lurched forward violently, followed by the second, and then the third. Soon, all five coaches were being pulled smoothly along the line.

"I've done it! I've done it! I've done it!" Edward cried. His beat was steady, and he blasted forward along the line, his wheels no longer slipping.

"Whoohoo!" Applejack cried. "Attaboy! Keep it up, Eddie!"

It took them a long time, but at long last, battered, weary, but unbeaten and triumphant, Edward came to a stop in the platform at Vicarstown. A Royal Scot was waiting to take the train back over to the mainland, and whistled.

Sir Toppham Hatt looked furious. "What sort of time do you call this?" he said. But nobody cared, not least Edward, and upon learning of Edward's brave act, Sir Toppham Hatt immediately forgot to be angry. After issuing an apology for his outburst, he and the passengers thanked Edward and Applejack profusely, and that night, when they returned to the shed, Duck and BoCo saw to it that that Edward was left in peace, whilst Apple Bloom praised her sister to the heavens and back again. I only hope this hero worship doesn't get too unhealthy!
> Ballast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In recent times, the harbours at Tidmouth, Brendam, and Knapford have become so busy that they can scarcely cope with the volume of goods being shipped in and taken out. To this end, Sir Toppham Hatt has reopened the harbour at Arlesburgh, just up the coast from Tidmouth. And as the roads to Arlesburgh are very bad indeed, he has relayed the old branch line that ran from Tidmouth to Arlesburgh West via Haultraugh, which had been lifted in the 1930s. I can tell you now that the Apple family are very pleased indeed that the railway is back, as it means that they no longer need to move their produce to market by road!

The branch line isn't the only thing that is new. The entire North Western main line from Tidmouth to Vicarstown is receiving a much needed facelift. The ballast crews are lifting the track out with new machinery, clearing away the old ballast underneath the track, and putting in fresh stone to replace it. The track crews love it. "Not a weed will grow in it!" they say. Donald and Douglas would often disappear off up the Arlesburgh line with empty hoppers, and come back a few hours later with fresh ballast loaded into the trucks. One day, as Donald rolled into the yard, Duck decided to ask what was going on. "Donald," he asked, with a wide eye, "where does all the ballast come from?"

Donald simply winked. "Aye, the wee little engines bring it doon from them hills," he smiled, before heading off on his way.

"Erm, right," said Duck. He glanced at Apple Bloom. "That engine... I have absolutely no idea what he was talking about."

"Me neither," Apple Bloom replied. "Maybe we should investigate? Ah live in Arlesburgh, and Stepney pops up there occasionally."



A few days later, Henry and Gordon were discussing what Donald and Douglas had said.

"I don't know," said Henry, with a confused look. "These 'wee little engines' they speak of must be magic."

"Magic?" Rainbow Dash asked, incredulously. "You know that is totally ridiculous, right?"

"I don't put much stock in this 'wee little engines' business," said Gordon. But then again, he never put much stock in anything said by anybody. "Donald and Douglas have pulled our wheels before, so they're probably doing it again!"

Duck, however, was still intruiged. So, he and Apple Bloom got permission to go down to Alresburgh and collect some ballast. After a splendid run along the coast of Sodor (strongly reminiscient of the Devonian Riviera), he came to a stop in the yard.

"Are you the ballast train?" called a foreman.

"Yes, we are," Apple Bloom told him.

"Good. Position the trucks under the chute!"

Before them stood a great metal structure with rails on top of it. Apple Bloom gently opened Duck's regulator, and brought the train underneath the hopper to a gentle and smooth stop.

"What do you think of our chute?" called a voice, in a strong Cumbrian accent. "Good, isn't it?"

Duck blinked, and looked over. Sitting next to him was the smallest engine he had ever seen. He was green, and had two leading wheels, eight driving wheels, and two trailing wheels, followed by a tender. He had outside cylinders, and sat in the tender was a boy with white skin and brown hair, as well as a brown birthmark behind his left eye, both of which were coloured brown. He wore a blue T shirt and green slacks, as well as a pair of green trainers.

"Where did you two come from?" Duck asked.

"We've been here all the time!" the engine replied.

"May I ask your name?" the engine's driver asked. "My name Phillip Squall, but most people call me either Pipsqueak or Pip, because I'm a bit short."

"I'm Duck," said Duck. "Formally Montague."

"Ah'm Apple Bloom," Apple Bloom added. "Ah prefer it over Abigail."

"I'm Rex!" the engine laughed. "But I already knew you to be Duck. There's only Great Western engine around these parts, after all!"

Suddenly, a great rattling and roaring started up from the chute above them, and Duck's trucks shook as something fell into them. "What was that?" the engine exclaimed.

"Oh, that was just the chute in action!" Rex smiled. "It works like your coaling towers at Knapford, as the bottoms of the wagons open up, allowing the cargo (in this case, ballast) to fall into your trucks. It saves a lot of time on loading and unloading, let me tell you!"

Duck was quite impressed, and puffed away with his goods train back to Tidmouth to supply ever more ballast for the railway. He came back a few days later, to see three small engines sitting there, grinning at him. Rex and Pip were there, but there was also a red engine of a similar size and the same wheel arrangement. Sat in this engine's cab was a girl wearing a pink long sleeved shirt with a symbol of a candy cane on it, as well as a purple skirt with the same emblem, and a pair of pink and purple socks, combined with purple boots. She had pale white skin and frizzy red hair, and wore a pair of purple glasses over her pink eyes.

The other engine was painted blue, and lacked the leading wheels the others had. Seated in his cab was another boy, who had two tone brown hair and eyes, as well as pale skin of a similar colour to the girl. He wore a brown long sleeved shirt and white slacks, as well as a pair of brown boots. He also smiled, through his buck teeth, and waved to Duck.

"Hello!" Rex called. "These are my fellow engines! The blue one is Bert, and the red one is Mike."

"Hi!" the other boy called. "I'm Frank Wright, but you can call me Featherweight if you want."

"And I'm Twitht!" said the girl, speaking excitedly in spite of her speech impediment. "My parents called me Tara, but I would prefer it if you called me Twitht!"

"Of course," Rex went on, "Mr Fergus Duncan gave us different coats of paint in order to tell us apart. I'm the oldest here, then Bert, and Finally Mike, who is a mere 49 years old this year!"

"Alright, Mr Oldie!" Mike grumbled. "But your claim about our colours is nonsense."

"I like being blue!" Bert exclaimed.

"That may be fine for you," Mike added, "but it's not for me! My passengers all say I look like a pillbox!"

"I think you look lovely," Twist reassured Mike.

"Thanks Twist."

"Well, fancy that!" Rex snorted. "Back in the days when Mike and myself were both green, the passengers kept calling me Mike!"

"Why you-!"

"OK guys, cool it!" Featherweight called. "Bert, shall we change the subject?"

"Sure thing!" Bert smiled. "Duck, have you seen our coaches?"

"You mean those things over there?" Duck asked. "They look like trucks!"

"How many trucks do ya know of that have seats in them?" Apple Bloom asked him.

"The Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway's 4th class coaches were effectively trucks."

"I agree," Bert said. "They may not be like mainline coaches, but they do their job quite nicely, I'd say. They even behave well!"

"Says you," Mike snorted.

"If you treat them well," Bert added.

"Besides," Twist added, "The pathengers abtholutely love the open topped coaches! It's the thcenery they've all come to look at!"

"Give me a goods train any day," Mike added.

"Ah've never heard of an engine who likes pullin' trucks," Apple Bloom said in shock, not quite sure what she had just heard.

"Well, most of our trucks are different to yours," Mike smiled. "Ours, like the ones on top of the chute, run on bogies, which gives them a very smooth ride. Twist and I take them up to the quarries and mines, fill them up, and then run down to the main line for emptying. Rinse, repeat."

"What about the hot axle boxes?" asked Rex.

"We found fruit preservative cured that problem!" Pip laughed.

Apple Bloom put a hand to her chin. "So that's where all the Zap Apple Jam's been goin'," she said finally.

Duck smiled. "Where are you from?" he asked. "I'd never seen or heard of you before."

This time, Bert answered. "Our old railway was in England, but it closed a long time ago. Your Sir Toppham Hatt purchased us and the rail materials, and took us to this place, relaying our line on top of another. This is our first season of operation, you know!"

"Oh!" said Duck. "Well, I'll make sure to tell everybody about you, and bring lots of passengers. Goodbye!" And he puffed away excitedly, to tell everybody about the small engines.
> Tit for Tat
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are three small engines who work on the Arlesdale railway, which runs from Arlesburgh to Arlesdale. Mike, Rex, and Bert are what are known as miniature engines; they are so small that their drivers stand taller than they do when they are standing up!

One day, two men arrived on the island, armed with cameras. One of them, a Mr Awdry, took still pictures, and the others, Mr Boston, took moving pictures (or 'videos', as we call them). They went about the island taking pictures of lots of interesting things, though Sir Handel began to grumble about the number of times he was required to do a runby in order to get a 'perfect shot'. Mr Awdry and Mr Boston spent an entire day on Thomas' branch line as well, and Thomas was most peturbed as to why the two men were photographing Toby instead of him!

"Why are they only taking pictures of certain things?" he asked, bemused.

"Well, I suppose there ARE lots of pictures of you," Twilight replied, "given you are used on the North Western's official marketing. Toby is a much rarer item, which explains their focus on him!"

"I'm rare," said Thomas. "I'm the only E2 left, after all."

"You're also 'rarely sensible'!" Annie boomed. She and Clarabel laughed, as they both thought they were very funny indeed. But later that day, the two men took Thomas' picture at Ffarquhar station.

"Thank you!" Thomas called.

"Where are you headed next?" Twilight asked them, as they got into their car, a somewhat battered old British Motor Corporation Austin 100.

"Our next destination is the Arlesdale railway," Mr Awdry replied. "As it has newly opened, I have no pictures of them."

"But we won't get any more pictures today," Mr Boston sighed. "The rain has come in, and I daresay it may rain for a while." As they drove off, the heaven's opened. It rained and it rained and it rained. It rained all afternoon, all evening, and all night, giving Miami a run for its money in terms of rain. But the next morning was glorious and sunny, but the air was cold too. The perfect conditions for taking pictures of steam locomotives.

"Good morning Bert!" called Featherweight. "We have a special train to pull today!"

"When do we not have special trains?" Mike grumbled. "If he's getting trucks then I am seriously annoyed. Only I should get trucks, after all."

"Filled with fruit prethervative!" Twist laughed.

"This special train is special indeed!" Featherweight continued, as he lit Bert's fire. "We have two men visiting. One of them takes moving pictures, and the other writes books with pictures in them. Maybe, one day, you'll be in one like that Master Neverers book I own!"

"But I don't want to be a moving picture in a book!" Bert exclaimed, seriously confused. "I want to stay as I am, nor do I want to be stuck in a tube!"

"What?" asked Rex.

"You know, people keep saying things about putting stuff on their tube."

"Oh!" Pip exclaimed. "YouTube!"

And the others burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" Bert asked. But nobody answered, as they were laughing too hard.



Later on, Bert backed onto his train, filled with the usual crowd of tourists, and Featherweight coupled him up. Just then, Mr Boston and Mr Awdry appeared on the platform. "Hello Bert!" said Mr Boston. "Aren't you a smart and shiny engine!"

Bert was very impressed that these two men knew his name. "Why, thank you sirs!" he said. "You can ride with Featherweight in my cab if you'd like!"

"We shall do that later," Mr Awdry replied. "But you shall be seeing us alongside the line from time to time. Cheerio!"

Bert set off with a smile. "Those men know how to talk to engines," he said to Featherweight.

"Indeed!" his driver replied. "So many people complain about the steam and smoke. It's as if they don't realise steam engines run on coal!"

There were still many puddles left over from the rain the previous day. Bert found that whenever the road and the railway intersected, sure enough Mr Boston and Mr Awdry were there, taking pictures. "Hello!" Bert called to them. "Hello! Good morning!" But neither of them replied. "Well, that's a bit rude. You'd expect them to at least wave at an engine."

"They can't wave and get good pictures at the same time!" Featherweight told him. "I do photography as well, and I can tell you that if the camera shakes, it comes out all blurry, and can't be used!"

Bert still didn't get it. "I won't whistle to them when I next see them!" he said. But when they next met, the road and the railway ran side by side with no fence or wall. The car that the two men were driving ran over a pile of water left over from the rain, which had turned into soft, sticky mud. It flew through the air and all over Bert.

"That was messy!" Featherweight called. "I didn't get too much on me though."

"MY PAINT!" Bert cried. "I'm covered in mud. They splashed me, they splashed me! I bet they even did it on purpose." Suddenly, a flash bulb went off nearby. "And they even took a picture of my muddy face!"



Later that day, when Bert was being turned at Arlesdale, Featherweight took a wet cloth and wiped the mud off Bert. "I'm a right picture indeed," the blue engine moaned. "I'm all covered in mud, and a right state too."

"There you are!" Featherweight said. "You're clean now, and ready to go once more. Besides, those two men didn't mean to do it. It was an accident."

Bert was paying his driver no heed at all. "They splashed me," he said quietly, when nobody was listening. "So I shall splash them. Tit for Tat."

For the return run, Mr Boston joined Featherweight in Bert's tender. Water dripped from the trees and off the branches nearby. Just beyond Arlesdale Green is a steep climb through a forest, and these trees were wet. Just then, Bert had an idea. Just as he started into the climb up the slope, he suddenly let rip. The ground shook and the carriages rocked as smoke and steam roared out of his chimney like a volcanic eruption.

"What are you doing?" asked Featherweight.

Bert laughed. "Do you know what day it is?" he asked. "Laundry day! Tit for Tat! TIT FOR TAT!" The amount of steam roaring into the air dislodged water on the branches, causing it to fall onto Mr Boston.

"I'm soaked!" Mr Boston cried. "Soaked!"

Bert simply laughed. But he was soon not laughing when Mr Duncan found out what had happened.

"What in the world were you thinking? I will not tolerate rudeness to visitors. Go to your shed."

"It still doesn't change the fact they splashed me first," Bert grumbled. But off he went anyways, and sat there, sulking.

Little did he know, Mr Boston was watching alongside Mr Awdry. "Oh dear," said the first. "This rather is our fault."

"Poor Bert," the second added. "I think we both know what should be done, don't we?"

As they walked over, Bert glanced up. "Here to gloat?" he asked.

"No, we're here to say sorry for splashing you with our car," Mr Boston replied. "It was an accident, and we weren't looking where we were going as we were too excited about taking pictures."

Bert sighed. "Well, sorry for splashing you, sir."

"To make it up to you," said Mr Awdry, "we shall clean you."

When Mike and Rex got back, Bert was all cleaned up. "What happened?" Rex asked.

"We heard you had an argument with some rude visitors," added Rex. "Who covered you in mud!"

"They're actually very nice," Bert smiled, "and cleaned me up. They're going to write about us, and show moving pictures on the television. One of them even said something about somebody on the internet writing about us!"

"What?" Pip asked.

"Would anybody actually read that?" Twist enquired.

But it happened... didn't it?
> Mike's Whistle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bert and Rex of the Arlesdale railway are normally employed on passenger workings on the line, taking holidaymakers and tourists up into the hills and back again through verdant forests. And then, there's Mike. He favours pulling trucks over passengers, and can sometimes be in a bit of a bad mood.

And he was one morning as Thomas rolled in with some ballast trucks to collect ballast that had been freshly brought down from the quarry. Thomas, however, was the image of merriment, chortling like a traction engine. It was a good thing that Trevor was nowhere to be seen, or else everybody would get extremely confused.

"What's so funny?" asked Rex, looking surprised and not getting the joke.

"It's Duck!" Thomas snorted through his laughter. "His whistle's gone all weird, and we don't know why!"

A strange rasping sound could be heard in the distance as Duck rolled to a stop in the platform with his coaches. "Hello," he said sadly.

"What happened to your whistle?" Pip asked, looking at the big green tank engine with concern.

"Apple Bloom overslept, so she tried cooking her breakfast on a shovel in my firebox," Duck explained. "The only problem is, she knocked the blower by mistake which sucked egg and bacon into the firebox and somehow it had clogged the release valves for the whistle."

"Now his whistle sounds like a stuck valve!" Apple Bloom exclaimed, and pulled the whistle to demonstrate.

"A whistle is a valve, if you think about it," Twilight pointed out.

"Well, at least Ah know not ta try that again," the girl sighed. "Ah wouldn't reccomend cookin' breakfast on a shovel." Duck pulled away with his train, bubbling and rasping as he rolled away.

"What was that horrible sound?" Mike asked grumpily, as he was turned on the turntable. "It's shocking, frankly, and makes us look slapdash and unprofessional!"

"Really?" asked Thomas. "Because I'm going to whistle like that to everybody I meet!" And he blew a big raspberry as he puffed off.

Twist rolled her eyes. "For a really utheful engine, he can be tho immature."

"If an engine can't whistle properly," Mike continued, "they shouldn't whistle at all."

"Then why do you?" asked Bert, as he rolled to a stop.

"I was talking about Duck," Mike said, rolling his eyes. "Unlike him, with that high pitched shrieking, I have a Stanier hooter!" He sounded it, to demonstrate his point, and puffed off into the yard.

Featherweight looked over in confusion. "How is he moving by himself with no driver?"

Then he saw Twist running after Mike.

"There's your answer," Pip shrugged. "The brake was left off."



Once they had got Mike back into the yard, Rex spoke to him. "If I were you, I'd lose your whistle and get a nice Gresley chime whistle instead, like the ones they use at Romney!"

Mike's face went red, so angry was he, and his safety valve blew off to release the excess steam.

"Is Mike overheating again?" asked Mr Duncan, who had heard the commotion. Mr Fergus Duncan was often nicknamed the Small Controller, as he oversaw the Arlesdale Railway. Despite his name, his was actually taller than Sir Toppham Hatt and Mr Percival. "I clearly need to reduce the amount of exertion you do. Passengers it is, then."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Really, sir? The safety valve was doing exactly what it was meant to do, and I prefer trucks to coaches."

"I won't take risks," Mr Duncan replied. "Bert shall take the goods train, and you shall haul passengers. Twist, ensure that Mike's safety valve stays in order."

"Yeth thir!" Twist replied enthusiastically. She and Mike set off as another member of railway staff smiled.

"Good to see railways taking disability employment quotas seriously," he said.



Mike was still fuming when he pulled into the platform at Arlesburgh West to a crowd of people. "Look mummy!" a boy called. "A toy train!"

"Oh, isn't he sweet!" said his mum. "Just like the ones you have on your trainset."

"I'm a lot bigger than that, you know!" Mike snapped. "I weight several tons, and am not a toy."

The boy was noticably subdued, and got into the carriage without saying another word.

Twist shook her head. "Behave Mike! Honethtly, he'th worth than ever today."



Mike shot out of the platform and round a bend, nearly crashing into Rex in the process, and flew down the line through the groves and under trees. Along the way, birds were singing and flowers were blooming. And Mike hated every second of it. "They mock my whistle!" he exclaimed, and blasted it loudly as he steamed along. Along the line are boards with the letter 'W', which is black on a white background. This is a sign telling engine crews to whistle as they run along the line. Unfortunately, Mike was so angry he was blowing his whistle at everything to relieve his frustration. At the other end, Twist checked him over to see if anything was wrong.

"What'th your problem?" she asked. "What ith wrong today?"

"There's nothing wrong apart from this passenger train!" Mike snapped. "And don't even think about cooking an egg in my firebox on a shovel!"

Twist laughed. "Were you getting worked up over that?" she said. "Don't you worry, I won't!"

On the return trip, there was a strange rattling sound coming from Mike. "I think thomething's loothe!" Twist said, looking around in alarm.

"I can't feel anything," Mike said, as they rolled along. "Whatever it is, we can fix it when we get back to the shed."

Unfortunately, there was a cow standing on the line, staring at Mike. It moo'ed noisily at him, and Mike rolled his eyes.

"Get out of the way, you stupid animal!" Mike shouted, and began whistling loudly at the animal.

"Give him time!" Twist shouted. "Be pathient!"

Mike was paying her absolutely no notice, and kept merrily blasting away on his whistle. "Get out of my way, or I'll ram you!"

Unfortunately, the whistling was too much. There was a loud bang as the valve went, and the cap flew high into the air and landed in a nearby field.

"Err, this prethents a problem," Twist said simply. "The whithle cap wath loothe!"

Mike was both upset and furious, and simply bellowed at the cow for several minutes whilst Twist went and looked for the whistle cap. But she couldn't find it, and the passengers were angry.

"Can we get a move on?" shouted the woman from earlier. "This railway is very bad, and I want to speak to the manager!"

"I will miss my connection at this rate!" another passenger bellowed. "What's so important about this whistle anyway?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "This is why I hate taking passengers," he said. "You can't bump them to make them shut up. And to answer your question sir, the whistle is very important. Without it, we cannot warn people we are coming!"

Twist had come back over, and upon hearing Mike's words, had a brainwave. "We can't find the whithtle cap," she said. "But I have an idea. Do any of you have thell thones?"

"I've never heard of a thell thone," said the boy. "You don't talk proper."

"Richard!" his mother scolded him. "Yes, we do have cell phones. Why do you ask?"

"At whithtle boards, you can play a recording of a thteam whithtle on YouTube!" Twist exclaimed. "That way, people will know we're coming!"

So, off they went down the line, and whenever they passed a whistle board, the passengers played a recording of a steam whistle, which annoyed Mike to no end as they produced more noise than he ever could.

Duck looked over, cross, as Mike rolled into the station very late indeed. "Traffic jam?" he asked.

"No," Mike sighed. "There was a cow on the line, and it wouldn't move."

"Then the whithtle valve went mithing, and we couldn't find it!" Twist added. "The pathengers did a good job, though."

The passengers were indeed very merry, and got off the train having had a good time. "First drinks on me, lads!" shouted one of the men as they raced down the platform.

"I know what whistle problems are like," Duck sighed. "At least Apple Bloom got mine working again!" And he whistled as he puffed away, as Thomas rolled in with some more trucks.

"What happened to Mike?" asked Thomas.

"Take no note of him," Rex replied. "He has no whistle."

"And as we know, that makes an engine improper," Bert added.

"And if an engine cannot whistle properly," Pip grinned.

"THEY SHOULDN'T DO IT AT ALL!" the two engines and boys chorused.

"All he had to say to it was 'mooooove' over!" Bert laughed.

Mike just rolled his eyes and laughed. "Oh well," he said. "Better no whistle than a farting whistle."
> Useful Railway
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On especially busy days, when there are more passengers going to Arlesburgh West then Duck and his coaches can cope with, Thomas is brought in to pull passengers to Arlesburgh West, who want to ride on the Arlesdale Railway. This way, Thomas can work the passenger trains whilst Duck and Apple Bloom move the Apple family produce back down the line to Tidmouth, from where it is sold at the market and boxed. Then, the empty vans are brought back (as whoever thought transporting apples in open wagons was a good idea was sacked) to repeat the process.

"Hello Bert!" Thomas called one morning, as he came to a stop in the platform. "Hello Mike!"

Mike and Bert whistled in response, as Featherweight and Twist waved to Twilight, who was waving from Thomas' cab.

"Hello Rex!" Thomas continued.

"Nice to see you Thomas!" the green mikado replied, shunting some trucks into position whilst Mike was going backwards down the ballast hopper.

"How are you, Twilight?" asked Pip, with a smile on his face.

"The sun is bright, the birds are singing, and I have so many new technical innovations to try out on the railway!" Twilight answered. "So the day is great!"

"I hope this works," Thomas grumbled as they pulled away towards Tidmouth. He liked the Arlesdale engines, as did Twilight, and the passengers liked the railway too. But they never took it very seriously, I'm sorry to say.

"Aren't they adorable!" exclaimed one woman.

"Look how small they are!" said another.

"Look dad!" a boy called over. "They are tiny!"

"Just like a toy railway!" his father replied with a smile, as he adjusted his hat.

Bert rolled his eyes. "Now I understand why you get so annoyed over this, Mike," he said.

"I know, right?" Mike replied. "We're not a toy railway, we're a useful railway. We may not be as big as some engines-"

"Bert especially," Featherweight interjected.

"HEY!"

"But," Mike continued, "we pull our weight and do lots of useful work. Never Overlook a Little Engine, that's what I say!"

"Ithn't that a thong?" Twist asked. There was a look of shock.

"She meant song," Rex quickly interjected. "Yes, I think it is. Recorded by the Rackstraw brothers, I think?"

"Keep it calm, Mike!" Pip exclaimed. "The passengers didn't mean it as an unsult. It was a mark of endearment!"

Mike wasn't convinced. He wasn't having a good day, and often lost his temper very quickly if he was in a rush. And today, he got caught when a group of sheep wandered onto the line.

"Out of the way!" he shouted at the sheep, who took no notice.

"Thould I play a whithtle recording?" Twist suggested. "That worked with the cow!"

"Oh, by Bassett-Lowke's boilerplates, this is ridiculous!" Mike cried, and blasted his whistle loudly. "What is it with you silly animals! Why won't you just move along and behave?"



Mike got home very late indeed as a result of the sheep, and spent the rest of the night grumbling to Rex and Bert. "Those sheep are nothing but a nuisance!" he said grumpily. "Why can't they just get out of the way? Some of us have work to do!"

"They may be a nuisance," Rex smiled. "But they're useful."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Mike replied. "All they ever do is block the track!"

"Sheep are useful!" Rex exclaimed. "Farmers sheer them, which means they use a fancy razor to remove their wool. And then that wool is made into clothes, those funny things people wear instead of paint."

"Quite right, Rex!" said the voice of Mr Duncan. "The farmers have asked for help in moving the sheep wool down to market in Arlesburgh. If we do it well, we can shake off the image of being a toy railway, and become a useful railway."

"How will we get the sheep down?" Bert asked. "We can't drive sheep along the line! They won't go in a straight line! It'll be like what happened to Mike today!"

Mike growled at him but otherwise made no sound, as Rex interrupted. "Don't be silly Bert! We don't drive the sheep. As Mr Duncan just explained, we take the wool down in trucks to the market! It'll be easy!"

"I don't know how easy it will be," Mr Duncan replied, "but you seem to be enthusiastic and fairly knowledgable on the matter, and as such I am asking you to take the first train down from Arlesdale tomorrow. I'll ask Pip if he wants to help as well, though I imagine he will."

"I bet it won't be easy," Mike grumbled.



The next day, Rex was telling Pip all about the last night's conversation as he hooked him up to his trucks. "I think this work will be simple."

"I hope so too," Pip replied, as he sat down in Rex's cab. "But things can happen that are outside of our control. So let's do our best, keep our eyes on the line, and be useful."

At the other end of the line, the wool was loaded into the trucks in big bales, surrounded by padding to prevent it from sliding about (though how the wool would not itself act as a shock absorber was a question that needed answering, and fast). At each farm along the way, Rex stopped for more bales to be loaded into his trucks, and the loads were piled higher and higher, held down by bungee chords to prevent the bales from falling off the trucks and onto the lineside, which would have made a very big mess indeed.

"I must admit," Pip smiled, "that this run was a little simply than I'd thought it would be. Let's hope our luck holds up on the way down the hill."

"I told Mike and Bert it would be easy!" Rex smiled. "Let's go!"

Little did they know, they had one load left to get. This belonged to Farmer Willie, one of the locals. He was, shall we say, a not hugely observant fellow, and had a reputation for carelessness and slapdash approaches to solving problems. He was driving very slowly down the road on his tractor, not paying much attention, when he hit a road bump and sped up.

"Your load!" Mr Awdry called from a passing bycicle. "It's slipping!"

"I can't stop now!" Willie called. "I'll be late!" And off he sped down the road to the rendezvous point, when his trailer tipped over by the side of the line, scattering bales all across the road. "Oh crumbs. I must warn the train!"'

Willie ran to the neighbouring bridge and shouted. "REX! REX! STOP! THERE'S A LOAD ON THE TRACK!"

Pip looked forward and gasped. "Oh dear," he said, and slammed on the brakes.

"Jump!" Rex shouted. "I won't be able to stop in time!"

Pip bailed just at the right time. Rex slammed into the bales, and was thrown to one side as wool flew everywhere, the trucks behind him concertening and derailing rather dramatically.

Mr Duncan came up to visit as soon as he had heard of the accident.

"I'm sorry sir!" Rex said. "I couldn't stop in time! I couldn't see the obstruction until it was too late."

"This is my fault sir," Farmer Willie admitted. "I took a corner too fast and the load fell onto the tracks."

"Why are you apologising to me?" asked Mr Duncan. "It's Rex who you should be apologising to. And Pip as well!"



Bert was brought up to move the trucks, and lost no time in making fun of Rex's predicament.

"So, you said it would be easy, eh?" he laughed. "Not very easy, is it?"

"I can't account for freak accidents caused by incompetent farmers, can I?" Rex asked, rhetorically.

"That's enough, you two," said Featherweight. "Pip, there's room in the cab if you want to come down with me."

"No thank you," Pip replied. "I need to make sure Rex is OK."

As the day went by, Bert and Mike went on and on, teasing Rex about his predicament whilst he lay there, unable to move. Eventually, they got him back onto the track and hauled him home, warm and dry.

"I suppose that accident was karmic justice," Rex sighed.

"Accidentth happen!" Twist said. "You couldn't have foretheen that farmer being so careleth!"

"Indeed!" Bert said. "It wasn't your fault at all."

"It was that farmer indeed!" Mike added.

At the yard, Mr Duncan was waiting for them. "I am very proud of you three engines, and of course of their drivers," he said, with a smile. "Thanks to Rex slowing down, the accident had minimal impact, and Mike, Twist, Bert, and Featherweight, you have all worked like heroes this fine day."

"Never Overlook a Little Engine!" Mike smiled.

"They may have thought we were a toy railway," Mr Duncan went on, "but they have seen that we are a Useful Railway. And they've promised us plenty more work."

"That'll be good news for Rex," Bert laughed. "It'll be, 'easy peasy, lemon squeezy'!"

Rex, mercifully, had the good sense to see the funny side, and joined in with the laughter. And everybody agreed that they were a very good railway indeed.
> Tenders for Henry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day, Gordon was in the yard being refuelled. He sat under the coaling chute as more coal lumps were dumped into his tender, ready for another run.

"That's another fresh load in!" Rainbow Dash called, before giving the signal to stop the chute. "9 tons loaded and ready. Now we just need to get some water."

"Five thousand gallons of it!" Gordon added. "I don't understand it; we've been getting through a lot of water lately."

James puffed up alongside Gordon and rolled his eyes. "That's the third load of coal you've had today, Gordon!" he said. "Some would say you're being rather greedy, as would I!"

"Honestly Dash," Rarity added, "you don't need to chuck anywhere near as much as you do onto his fire. The coal just goes all over the place and you cannot rake it accurately. No wonder Gordon goes through so much in a single run!"

"I'm an important engine," Gordon said. "And important engines need plenty of coal. I doubt you'd even understand."

James just snorted and set off, grumbling. "No wonder they scrapped the others. If they burn as badly as Gordon did, it would have made the LNER bankrupt!"

Gordon's eyes widened in shock. "What did he say?"



Later, Gordon was parked on a siding filling up with water. The main standpipe was broken, and he was taking water from a hose attached to a fire hydrant. Gordon didn't understand why Network Rail kept taking all the water pipes away. It made him very suspicious.

"Watch how much you drink Gordon!" Duck called from an adjacent siding. "I knew of plenty of Castles who got boiler ache from drinking too much water!"

"Kinda like when ya drink too much fizzy pop and ya can't stop burpin'," Apple Bloom sighed. "Ah learned that one the hard way. Big Mac'll never let me ferget it."

"So that's why my parents banned fizzy drinks in the house," Rainbow Dash said finally.

Gordon just snorted. "What is this? Educating Gordon day?" He paused as he looked over at the Pannier tank. "First James, and now you. Big engines have big needs, and you are a little engine. Be off, and stop bothering me!"

Duck laughed. "Well, there are more Castles than you around these days, so I'd better be careful if I were you. Cheerio!"

Suddenly, what James had said was forced back to the front of Gordon's memory. "What is he talking about? I'll ask Sir Toppham Hatt!"

When Gordon next pulled into Knapford, Sir Toppham Hatt was standing on the platform. "You look glum Gordon!" he said. "Tell me, what is the matter?"

"Sir," Gordon replied, "I, as you know, am the prototype for the A1 and A3 classes of steam locomotives, but James has been implying that they were scrapped. Is this true?"

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed sadly. "I'm sorry Gordon," he said sadly, "but all but one member of the class was scrapped in the 1960s. They're long gone, I'm afraid."

Gordon's face fell even further than it had earlier. "So I am all alone," he said sadly. "Thank you sir, as bad as the news was." And he puffed away with a long face.

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. "If only I could do something for Gordon," he said, and then suddenly had a brainave. He rushed into his office and picket up his telephone. "Hello? Is that the National Railway Museum? Yes? You can send him tomorrow? Fantastic. See you then!" He put the telephone down, and rubbed his hands. "Gordon will like this very much" he said.



The next morning, Rainbow Dash came around nice and early to wake Gordon up. "Wake up, Gordon!" she called. "I have a surprise for you!"

Gordon looked up, and gasped. Backing toward him were a pair of Apple Green tenders, one with the numbers 4472 on them, and the second set bearing the text LNER. The engine itself had the same basic shape as Gordon, but was also painted Apple Green, and rolled to a stop alongside Gordon. "Hello there cousin!" he said, with a smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Gordon's mouth fell open like a fish. "It's Flying Scotsman!" he exclaimed. "He's come to visit me! Why, I haven't seen you since 1925!"

Rainbow Dash caught sight of a woman standing in Flying Scotsman's cab. She had fiery yellow skin and two tone orange hair, combined with orange eyes. She was currently dressed in a one piece electric blue boilersuit with yellow trim, and had a pair of aviator glasses on her forehead. "Hey there Dash," she said in a raspy voice. "I've heard all about you from some of the other National Collection engines."

Rainbow Dash's mouth fell open too. "It's Spitfire!" she exclaimed. "THE Spitfire! The National Railway Museum's lead restorer and engine driver!"

"The same," Spitfire replied. "Real name's Sandy, but don't ever let me catch you calling me that!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Flying Scotsman smiled. "Are those two sisters?" he asked. "I suppose you and I are cousins, but you are hardly my little brother as you were built before me, and you can hardly be my bigger brother as we belong to separate classes. Not to mention we are exactly the same size."



Henry saw the two engines conversing happily, and began to complain. "Now why does that visitor get two tenders? Flying Scotchcake, did you say he was called?"

"Flying Scotsman," Duck corrected.

"He needs two tenders," Apple Bloom said, "as he runs over track where there are no water towers or water troughs. So, he needs ta carry all the water he needs in one go. He holds the world record fer longest nonstop run. 422 miles from Sydney ta Perth via Alice Springs!"

"I work hard enough for two," Henry grumbled, as he took out his frustration on some nearby trucks. "I deserve a second tender!"

"Take it easy Henry," Fluttershy told him. "We can stop regularly for water. Scotsman cannot. I doubt they've got the resources for two tenders anyways."

Duck smiled. He had an idea. "Say, Apple Bloom, didn't you and your mother recently find some old tenders near Arlesburgh?"

"Why, yes we did!" Apple Bloom exclaimed. "Donald helped ta pull them out, don't ya remember?"

"Of course I do," Donald smiled, rolling to a stop nearby.

"Would you like the tenders, Donald?" Duck asked, innocently as he could.

"Wait, what?" Henry said. "I'll take them! How many did you find?"

"We found six," Apple Bloom replied, trying and failing to supress her giggles as she spoke. "Would ya like ta pick them up tonight?"

"That sounds very odd," Fluttershy sighed. "I'd be cau-"

Henry cut her off. "I'm in!" he cried. "Six lovely tenders! What a sight I will be!"



That evening, the engines and their drivers all assembled to watch Henry come by. Duck ran through first, chortling loudly.

"What do you think is so funny?" Lyra asked Bon-Bon.

"I don't know!" Bon-Bon replied. "Oh wait, doesn't Henry look silly!"

There came Henry, pulling six old, rusty, dirty, noisy tenders filled to the brim with boiler sludge, which slopped over the sides of the tenders and onto the trackbed.

"Had a nice washout?" shouted a voice, in amongst all the laughter. "You must feel a different engine by now!"

Henry wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure the voice belonged to Gordon.
> Super Rescue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two diesels sat on the sight of Tidmouth sheds, taking in the sights with glum looks. Both of them were painted a bright blue livery, with an emblem that resembled two arrows connected by a squiggly line connecting the two arrows. One of them had a nose that jutted out briefly before curving back inward around his cab windows, and the entire area of the front end up to the cab roof was painted yellow. He was making an absolute racket, which made intelligible conversation difficult.

The other one, on the other hand, had more the sound of a cross channel ferry idling in the port. He had a snub nose that stuck out like a sore thumb, and this was painted yellow as well. However, he did not have his cab painted yellow, and his cab sat considerably higher up than it did on the other diesel (although, overall, both engines were will within the constraints of the British loading gauge). He was speaking to the other diesel in a snooty stuck up tone.

"It is about time," he said, "that we took this railway over. Heaven knows how they've been able to keep going on only steam power for so long."

"Agreed!" said a woman, sitting in his cab. She wore a severe turqoise shirt with the collar done up around her neck so tightly it looked as if it would strangle another person. It had a red jem set into it, and she wore a dark blue jacket on top of that. Below that, she wore a blue skirt, purple tights, and dark blue shoes. Her ice blue skin and orange eyes projected an aura of coldness and hostility, and her glasses often gave the impression she was looking down her nose at somebody. "Steam locomotives are dirty, noisy, smelly, and worst of all bad for the environment! Diesels are much more efficient and environmentally friendly. Indeed, sixty percent of railway locomotives today are diesels!"

The other diesel finally spoke up. "That's enough, D199," he said. "And you too, Cinch. This is there railway, after all, and I know what persecution is like. The last of my class was withdrawn in 1975, you know."

"But you're still here, aren't you?" the other diesel replied. "Besides, it should be obvious we are the future."

"Yeah, about 50 years ago, D199," the driver of the second diesel said. He wore black shoes, grey slacks with a brown belt and golden belt buckle, a purple jumper with a symbol of a shield on it, a white shirt, and a black tie.

"Hey, Ah know you!" Apple Bloom said finally from Duck's footplate, having overheard the conversation. "Yer Twilight's brother, ain't ya?"

"The very same," the driver, a young man, replied. "Simon Andrew, or Shining Armour for some reason. The name kinda stuck."

"Oh don't go on talking with this West Country nonsense!" Cinch said with a steely glare. "You may have known Pannier Tanks on the Western region, but put that behind you. These steam engines spoil the modern image of the diesel and electric railway."

Duck, by now being VERY offended, chose to speak up. "Of course we put your modern diesel and electric railway to shame!" he said. "Do you see us taking sick leave to go shopping for Christmas presents? Do you see us charging through booked stops in order to hold impossible timetables? Do you see Sir Toppham Hatt cancelling every train on the island because a single snowflake is forecast in Ukraine? No!" Duck then went on with his rant. "When you have problems, do you care a bit for your passengers? No! You just sit there and moan for a fitter. We get the trains in, even on one cylinder."

"That's right!" Apple Bloom added. "Hard work and determination will NEVER beat yer fancy pants diesels and electrics."

"Isn't he the driver of City of Truro?" asked the other diesel at the back.

"Indeed D7101," Shining Armour replied. "He's quite the gentleman too."

"Nothing," D199 boasted, "ever happens to us. We are superior."

"Well, that Class 40 who swallowed a bowler hat said the same," Stepney commented. "Sweetie Belle, Duck, Apple Bloom and I had to pull him out."

"Oh yes," D199 said, with a cruel smile. "Sweetie Belle, that airhead, was one on of my trains I pulled earlier. No wonder it was so difficult." He then looked to Rarity, who didn't like where this was going. "You really need to get her off the sweets, you know."

Rarity went purple in the face. "HOW DARE YOU!" she shrieked, and threw a pot of red paint at the diesel, which splattered all over his running number.

"WHY YOU-?"

"You asked for it," D7101 growled. "Now shut your intake."

Both diesels simply sat in silence as their engines were turned off.



The next day, Henry was on his way home running light engine. He was running tender first, and he looked very sad indeed. "I'm a failed engine," he said sadly. "First the tenders and now this. I'll be a laughing stock forever!"

"It's OK Henry," Fluttershy said tenderly. "It's only a primed regulator. It can be fixed, but only when you are cool. We just need to get back to the shed first."

"We still have the reverser and brakes, so it could be worse," Henry sighed. He came to a stop in a loop, where the signal was at red. Sitting next to him was D199, pulling a line of tankers. "Oh dear, he'll laugh at me now," Henry sighed.

However, D199 seemed to be paying him no attention. Up above, the signalman came out. "Can somebody please just tow this spam can away?" he asked. "It's fouling the Up line, and we've got a special train coming through soon!"

"SPAM CAN?" D199 boomed. "I'm not a Bulleid Light Pacific; I'm a Peak!"

"Shut it!" the signalman said. "Or I'll take my can opener to you."

Cinch emerged from the cab of D199, and boy did she look cross. "This is an unnaceptable standard of railway!" she boomed. "The facilities for diesels are simply shocking, and I will be taking this up with the British Railways Board!"

The signalman laughed. "OK then," he said. "While you're at it, tell the Board all about the talking engines."

Cinch fell silent almost immediately. Henry was moved onto the train to move it out of the way, whilst D7101 roared by on the special train, sounding his horn enthusiastically.

"Look there Spam Can!" Henry laughed. "There goes your pal!"

"Oh, so he's a Class 45," Fluttershy said at last. "No wonder he's so unreliable!"

D199 said nothing. He hoped that D7101 hadn't noticed.



D7101 hadn't noticed, nor had Shining Armour. They were having issues of their own. The train seemed to be getting heavier. D7101's engine roared as Shining increased the throttle further, but this seemed to do no good.

Trains on the Island of Sodor are braked using the vacuum technique, where the brakes come off when there is a vacuum in the system, hence the name. A device called an ejector is used to pull the air out of the braking system and keep the brakes off. If it is not working properly, air is let into the system and the brakes come on.

And this was what had happened. The ejector was not working properly, and air was slowly leaking into the brake system. They had been coming on ever since D7101 had passed the stricken D199, and D7101 continued on for about half a mile before grinding to a complete stop, unable to move a wheel and still roaring furiously.

"Well, well, well!" Henry smiled. "I thought they'd be laughing at me, but the joke's on those diesels now!"

"How are we going to move two dead diesels and their trains?" Fluttershy asked, looking concerned. "Are you sure you can do it, Henry? Those trains will be very heavy, and you are not in the best shape yourself."

"It's better than leaving those passengers stranded," Henry replied. "Besides, D7101 is a good sort. He shut Spam Can up when he insulted Sweetie Belle last night."

Fluttershy clambered into Henry's cab and released the brakes. "Right away!"

Steam thundered into the air and smoke shot from Henry's cylinders. "GET MO- VING- YOU!" he bellowed at D199, who of course did nothing to help. Henry was rolled gently into the passenger train, and Shining Armour came back down the train to talk to Fluttershy.

"I've disconnected the brakes on D7101," he explained. "I've still got power, and if you can control the braking, moving this lot ought to be simple as you'll only have D199 and his train to contend with. Good luck."

Fluttershy hooked up the brake hoses, and jumped back into the cab.

"Ready!" Henry shouted, and whistled loudly.

"Ready!" D7101 called, and sounded his horn.

Henry's wheels dug into the rails as D7101's engine roared into life on the front. Slowly, but surely, the heavy train got underway towards Tidmouth.

Flying Scotsman whistled as Henry brought the train to a stop at the station, D199 and his tankers trailing a long way behind. "Jolly good show, Henry! Good work, D7101!" he called. As the diesel was released from the stock and rolled away, he coupled onto the coaches and began to haul them to Arlesburgh West on a special train. Henry drew D199 into the platform and stopped. Rarity and Sweetie Belle were there.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Rarity said, with a look of amusement on her face. "I never thought highly of Sulzer machines.

"You look like you got lost on your way to a fashion show," D199 retorted.

Sweetie Belle by this point had been joined by Apple Bloom. "See here?" she said. "Spam Can here is so heavy he needs two engines to tow him. And he thinks I'm fat!"

D199 simply growled at her. "Take me back to Sheffield," he said sadly.

"That is exactly where we are going," Cinch grumbled. "I can't stand this railway for much longer."

"Indeed," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "As soon as he's fixed, take D199 back to the other railway. 7101 will stay for now."



That night, Henry and D7101 sat together in the shed. "Sorry about Spam Can," D7101 said. "He is rather rude, as is his driver. They think everybody else is below them."

"No harm done," Henry smiled. "You did shut him up."

"And then we made absolute fools of ourselves out on the mainline," Shining sighed. "I'm never going to live that one down."

"Henry here thought the same when he stopped in a tunnel out of fear of the rain," Fluttershy said. "But nobody mentions it now. Friends?"

"Sure thing," Shining replied, and shook her hand.

"Besides," Henry continued, "my regulator was stuck. But trains must always get through, no matter what."

"If only the modern Train Operating Companies understood that," D7101 sighed, and both engines had a good laugh about it.
> Escape!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edward was in the yard one day talking to Trevor when Douglas steamed by, pulling a long, heavy train of coal trucks. He looked to be in a bad mood, and his driver Bon-Bon looked like she had got out of the wrong side of bed that morning, as her hair was all over the place and her face bore a permanent scowl.

"Aye, Edward!" the Scottish engine called. "Stop gossipin' in the sun, will ye now, and get some work done! This railway won't run itself!"

Applejack looked over in dismay. "If Ah spoke like that ta anyone, Ah'd be grounded fer weeks."

"It was a little insensetive," Edward noted. "Sorry you had to hear that Trevor."

"Oh, I don't mind," Trevor said. "I've got exceptionally thick boiler cladding, you know!"

Just then, Grand Pear came back with a sandwich, and took the controls. "Alright Trevor, back ta work," he said.

"Goodbye Edward! Goodbye Applejack!" Trevor called as he puffed away.



Later, Edward spoke to Douglas about what he had said. "Trevor and I are old friends," he explained, "and we have a lot in common."

"Gossiping?" Bon-Bon answered, downing a bottle of water. "Why is it so hot today?"

Applejack shook her head. "No, it ain't talkin', or the fact they both work with members of the Apple family."

"You both narrowly escaped the cutter's torch," Edward continued.

Douglas gasped. "Don't mention that word!" he exclaimed. "It makes mae wheels wobble!"

"It has the same effect on Trevor," Edward said sadly. "And many engines have been cut up for scrap when still perfectly servicable. The Class 58 diesel comes to mind; the last was withdrawn only 19 years after the first had entered service."

"But Eddie and Ah helped ta save him," Applejack said. "Ah mentioned him ta mah family, and Grand Pear remembered that he had worked with him back in the old days. So we went down the next day and bought him, and now he works hard at Sweet Apple Acres or wherever he's needed."

"But we could do with another engine," Edward added quickly. "The workload is getting heavier each day, and there's only so much an old engine like me can do. We need a newer, younger engine, and a driver too!"

"I'll agree with you on that," Douglas added grimly. "And we need them fast."



That night, Douglas and Bon-Bon went to Vicarstown to drop off some goods. They had to travel across the bridge to pick up what was coming back as the engine that was meant to bring the trucks in had failed. This meant crossing the bridge, and travelling into the dark heart of Barrow-in-Furness.

In between the siding they were travelling to and the mainline, were lines of condemned engines, dating from the 1950s through to the present day. Their paintwork was peeling and bodywork rusting, and many looked as though they would just fall apart then and there.

"Help," wheezed an old Type 1 diesel as Douglas went by. "You can't leave us to die here!"

Douglas went on past. Truth be told, he felt sorry for these engines, and wanted to help them. But he had no way of getting them back, and it wasn't in the work orders anyways. So, deeper and deeper he went, and was about to couple up to the trucks when suddenly he heard a wheeshing sound.

"What was that?" he asked. "That sounded like a steam engine to me!"

"I didn't hear anything," Bon-Bon replied.

Suddenly, there was a weesh again. "Hello? Is there anybody there?"

"Who's there?" Douglas asked.

"Are you one of Sir Toppham Hatt's engines?" asked a quiet male voice in a gentle West Country burr.

"Why, yes I am," replied Douglas. He went onto the siding, and gasped. Before him was a dirty, dishevelled, rusty old tank engine. His tanks were covered in the words 'condemned', and behind him were a passenger coach and a brake van.

"My name's Oliver," the engine replied. "Me, my coach, my brake van and my driver are trying to escape to Sodor, and we've run out of coal and water."

Just then, a head popped out of Oliver's cab. It was a girl, with light peach skin and purple hair and eyes. She wore a hoodie, a shirt, a pair of slacks and boots to go with them, but they were so dirty it was impossible to tell what colour they had once been. The girl's hair was ragged and she clearly hadn't washed in weeks, as she smelled. So much so, Bon-Bon could smell the odour from Douglas' footplate. "Please," she said, her voice full of desparation that only a person has when a light has appeared at the end of the tunnel, "help us."

"What are you escaping from?" Bon-Bon asked.

"Scrap," Oliver replied. "And in my driver's case, abuse."

"Where are your parents, little girl?" Douglas asked. He regretted asking that almost immediately, as the girl began to tear up.

"I- I don't know! I've lived in an orphanage all my life!"

Douglas and Bon-Bon were touched by this, and agreed to help. Everybody got to work, readying the train to move as if this was a scrap movement. Once they were done, Douglas began to head for the exit of the yard.

"No time to turn aroond!" Douglas called. "I'll do this tender first! Bon-Bon, you're my eyes and ears."

"Got it!" his driver replied. Just then, a voice shouted at them.

"STOP!" the yard foreman called. "You can't take those! They're not on the stock list!"

The girl, who was in the brake van, began to hyperventilate. "Oh no," she whimpered. "We're doomed! They'll scrap Oliver, and send me back!"

Douglas kept his cool. "No, we can," he said. "This is for us, you see."

Bon-Bon jumped down from the footplate and showed him the paperwork. "Sir, we have transfer orders to take this to the Island scrapyard."

The foreman inspected the paperwork. "All is in order," he said. "Right away!"



The train cleared the station yard, and the odd formation rumbled onto the Vicarstown bridge. Douglas suddenly heard a ringing from the carriage. "What's that?" he asked.

"That's my auto-coach, Isabel," Oliver explained. "In order to save time when running on branch lines, she looks ahead for me when I'm running backwards, and rings her bell so that I know to go or stop. On the back there is Toad, a brakevan."

"If you don't mind me asking," Bon-Bon asked, "how do Great Western locomotives, rolling stock, and a girl end up here?"

Oliver sighed, the girl having joined him on the footplate. "I was built by the Great Western in 1935 at Swindon, and worked the Tiverton branch near Taunton for most of my life. That's how I met Scootaloo."

"Is she your driver?" asked Bon-Bon. "What an odd name."

"It's my nickname," the girl answered. "According to my birth certificate, my real name is Lucy Scott, but I hate that name. I much prefer Scootaloo."

"She lived in the orphanage in Tiverton," Oliver continued, "so we soon got to know each other. She would be down at the yard most days, either to talk to me or have a trip on the branch. The guard would let her ride for free, and when my line closed down we both agreed to escape to Sodor to get a better life. It was that or scrap, and the orphanage was pretty horrible for a girl her age anyways."

Just then, they cleared the end of the bridge, and Scootaloo cheered. "We did it, Oliver! We made it to Sodor! WHOO!"

Douglas whistled happily. "We're hear at last." They dropped Oliver, Isabel, Toad and Scootaloo at Crovan's Gate, said their goodbyes, and headed off to Tidmouth. Scootaloo nodded off on Oliver's footplate.



Later that morning, Mr Shutter, an older man with vaguely yellow skin and purple hair, walked into the yard to start his work as foreman of Crovan's Gate works. As he walked across the lines, he suddenly noticed an auto-tank and auto-coach, as well as a brake van, sitting there in the yard. "When did those get there?" he asked, and went over to them. He climbed up the cab steps, and looked inside to see a girl sleeping.

She suddenly jolted awake. "Aagh!" she cried. "Erm, hi?"

Mr Shutter looked equally surprised. "Where did you come from?" he asked.
> Little Western
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Douglas and Bon-Bon returned to Tidmouth shed just in time to see Flying Scotsman and Spitfire take their enthusiasts home to the mainland. Sir Toppham Hatt stepped forward to deliver a speech.

"Flying Scotsman, Spitfire," he said, "I would like to thank you for visiting the North Western Railway and for helping us out. Send my thanks to the National Railway Museum for their superb and stellar work, and tell everybody that, not matter what may happen in the rest of Britain, or indeed the rest of the world, steam locomotives will always have a home here, and will always be hard at work. This island shall always welcome those who wish to see proper engines hard at work, doing what they were built to do."

There was a great chorus of whistles and cheers as Flying Scotsman pulled away, sounding his whistle. As he pulled away, the station sounded to strains of 'Will ye No' come Back Again?', led, as you'd probably expect, by Donald, Douglas, Lyra and Bon-Bon.

The coast was clear, and once Sir Toppham Hatt was out of earshot, Douglas began to tell his tale. He left no detail out, and when he had finished, the others agreed something must be done for both Oliver and Scootaloo.

"I fear," Douglas said gravely, "some diesel may creep onto our railway and see him there, lackin' steam, and drag him away without any way to whistle!"

"Not to mention the social services are probably chasing Scootaloo," Bon-Bon added. "If we can't get her to a new family, she'll be sent straight back to that orphanage in the West Country."

"Obviously," said James, "Oliver will not be safe until Sir Toppham Hatt knows of him and can take appropriate action."

"And of course Scootaloo will need some protection," Rarity added. "I've heard all sorts of horror stories about the foster care system back on the mainland, and I wouldn't wish such a fate on my worst enemy!"

"I would suggest Douglas tell him," Gordon sighed. "He was the one who rescued them, and so is the best placed to explain the situation."

"Ye wanna me ta speak to Sir Toppham Hatt?" Douglas asked. "He'd think me the interfering sort! You remember how badly he reacted to the Depastution a few months back!"

"Do you mean Deputation?" Rainbow Dash asked. "It took us ages to try and figure out what Percy was talking about."

"What's going on?" asked the voice of Sir Toppham Hatt, as he walked back onto the platform. He had a hand over his ear. "What's all the noise? I can barely hear my mother on the telephone!"

Duck, who had arrived with some coaches from Arlesburgh, and had heard the entire conversation, chose to break the awkward silence. "Begging your pardon sir, but we do need another engine, and another engine would be the proper way to do things. After all, there's the Great Western way and-"

"Yes, yes, thank you Duck," Sir Toppham Hatt said quickly. "That is why I have chosen to keep D7101 in service on the Island."

The faces of all the engines and their crews fell. Their faces showed such dismay that Sir Toppham Hatt had difficulty with his own. "Is something the matter?"

"Sir," said Gordon sadly, "we had rather hoped for a proper engine. A steam engine."

"They," Sir Toppham Hatt told him, "are rare indeed. And unless one escapes here, there is little hope of acquiring one in the current climate."

"But sir!" Douglas said. "One has escaped."

"And his driver too!" Bon-Bon added.

"Yes indeed," Sir Toppham Hatt smiled. "And thanks to you two, Oliver is now at Crovan's Gate works being mended." He looked behind him. "Mr Shutter! Mrs Allgood! Would you kindly come forward?"

Two other people then came forward, one of them the previously discussed Mr Shutter, still dressed in a boilersuit and with a face covered in soot. The other person, a woman, had orange skin and cream hair, and was wearing a green collared shirt and khaki pants, topped off with brown boots.

"Hello mates!" called Mr Shutter. "I imagine you chaps know me from the works!"

"I run the tea shop here," the woman, presumably Mrs Allgood, added. "It's a nice change from wrestling crocodiles in Australia, let me tell you!"

"Mr Shutter found Scootaloo on Oliver's footplate, and she explained all that had happened. Would you mind coming forward?" Sir Toppham Hatt asked.

Scootaloo then appeared, looking as dishevelled and messy as yesterday, the others looking over in shock and gasping. "Good grief!" Rarity exclaimed. "Just look at her!"

Apple Bloom was so stunned at the sight that she couldn't say a word. 

So Mrs Allgood broke the silence instead. "Scootaloo, or would you prefer Lucy?"

"Scootaloo," the girl replied. "I never knew my parents, and the name never suited me anyway."

Mrs Allgood continued. "I heard your story and it touched me greatly. Me and my husband have always wanted to be parents, but sadly I cannot have children."

"And?"

"What we're saying," said Mr Shutter, "is we'd like to adopt you as our daughter, if that's what you want."

It took Scootaloo a second to process the words. Then she sprinted across the platform and took him in a tackle hug. "How could I say no? Yes, yes, and yes again!"

The engines whistled, and their crews cheered. Sir Toppham Hatt then spoke up. "When Oliver is fixed, I'm offering you the position of his driver. Would you like to take it?"

Scootaloo, still wrapped in a hug with her by now parents, nodded happily. "This is the best day of my life," she whispered, her face in a smile.

"And it's only gonna get better," Mrs Allgood added.

Once they had broken from the hug, Rarity walked over. "Scootaloo," she said, "I must say that your clothes are not in the best shape. I hereby offer to make you some new ones."

"I don't have any money," Scootaloo replied.

"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" the fashionista replied. "I would do it for nothing. Besides, I think Sweetie Belle would love to meet you!"

"On that note," Apple Bloom added, "Ah'd love ta be yer friend. There's one big school on the island, in Knapford, and me and Sweetie Belle go there. So you'd be welcome there too!"

Douglas smiled as he saw the scene in front of him. "We have brought happiness," he said, "and probably made things better too."

"Indeed," said Sir Toppham Hatt. "Oliver, Isabel, and Toad are exactly what we need for the Arlesburgh branch line, and Toad has already asked to be your brake van."

"I'd hoped for that," Douglas smiled, "and he and I will do brawly together."

"Floreat Vapor!" shouted Stepney, who had shuffled into the platform nearby.

"FLOREAT VAPOR!" everybody echoed.



D7101 returned to service on the Island a few days later. Henry and Fluttershy put in a good word for him, and the others commended him too. His natural politeness, and the friendliness of his driver, Shining Armour, certainly helped to endear him to the Islanders, and he cuts a fine figure in British Railways two tone green with late crest. The other engines teased him at first because of his engine noise, and said he sounds like a bear. However, the name sort of stuck, although his real name is Atherton. He prefers Bear though, as he feels it suits him better. "Having a name," he says, "means you truly belong."

Oliver, Isabel, and Toad were soon restored to British Railways livery; lined green for Oliver, and deep maroon for Isabel. Toad was painted grey. Not long after, three more Auto-coaches were purchased. Two, named Alice and Mirabel, were given to Duck. The third, Dulcie, joined Oliver and Isabel. The two engines, supplemented by Stepney, as well as their drivers Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle, run a superb service and keep the Arlesburgh line running. It became known as the 'Little Western' eventually, and the name stuck.

Meanwhile, those three girls have become very close indeed, and have formed a group. They call themselves the Cumbrian Mountain Crusaders, or CMC for short. I wonder if it will ever catch on?
> Donald's Duck
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck the Great Western Engine and his driver, Apple Bloom, had worked hard for many years in the yards at Tidmouth, and had done so dilligently, smartly, efficiently, and without so much as a complaint about the workload or the hours. Sometimes it was coaches, and sometimes it was trucks, but no matter what, the old Pannier Tank and his driver always got the work done, day in, day out.

One day, Sir Toppham Hatt came to visit them. "I have noticed," he said to them, "that the two of you have worked very hard for the last few months without rest or complaint. I am very impressed with you both, and have a high opinion of both Great Western engines and the Apple family. As a reward, I would like to offer you two the Arlesburgh branch line for your own. Would you like it?"

It took the two of them approximately three seconds to decide. "Yes please, sir!" said Duck.

"Doin' what Ah love, and workin' out of mah home town?" Apple Bloom exclaimed. "Count me in!"


Duck took the duty of running his railway very seriously indeed. The line runs from Tidmouth along the coast, running over steep cliffs, past sandy beaches, and vast, sprawling tunnels cut straight through the rock, to give the line an easy passage alongside the sea. Duck loved every second of exploring the line. Cool sea breezes blew through the air and swirled his steam high into the air and his green paint glistened in the sunlight.

"You know Apple Bloom," he said, "for a brief period I was based out of Newton Abbot shed on the Devon coast. This branch line is almost exactly like that line from Newton Abbot to Exeter St. David's, except in terms of length, of course."

"It reminds me of home," Apple Bloom answered. "Well, at least days out ta Galverston beach. Then thin's got tight and we moved here. Ah well, at least apples and railroad work makes more money than cattle ever did."

"And I suppose it's not as messy, either!" Duck replied.

Apple Bloom laughed. "Ah certainly don't miss shovellin' out cow poop!"

As ever, the two of them worked incredibly hard. Duck would work for most of the day without pause, although the lunch break coincided with a stop at Arlesburgh West, which meant Apple Bloom could head back to Sweet Apple Acres for her lunch. This once took an interesting turn when she found her entire family had turned up on the platform, as they'd decided to join her for lunch instead!

Later, Sir Toppham Hatt began renovating the old station there, and Duck was put to use on the trains of building supplies, whilst Stepney and Sweetie Belle temporarily took over passenger trains. Donald, Douglas, Lyra and Bon-Bon brought building materials down the line whilst Bertie the Bus also helped out with the passenger load. Smoke and dust filled the air during the construction process, which drifted about and annoyed the townsfolk. Sir Toppham Hatt was quick to slow down construction after Granny Smith complained! With two Apples in his employ, he hardly wanted to risk the wrath of their matriarch (though he found Pear Butter to be a jolly soul).

Sir Toppham Hatt stood on the platform as the last component of the overall roof had gone into place when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Well, this'll put Arlesburgh back on the map."

He turned around to see Pear Butter on the platform holding a lunchbox. "Hello Mrs Butter. How can I help you?"

"Could ya give this ta Apple Bloom if ya see her, please?" Pear Butter asked. "She was in such a rush ta get off ta work today she forgot ta collect it."

"Ah, OK then! Listen, about your daughter-"

"What did she do now?" Pear Butter sighed. Apple Bloom was an enthusiastic, hard working, and overall well behaved child. However, she and her friends did tend to get a LITTLE overexited, which had caused a bit of a mess in Arlesburgh town square.

"I wanted to commend her and Duck for their work ethic," Sir Toppham Hatt finished. "OK, there was that incident with the paint truck splattering another engine, but that was clearly an accident and the load had not been secured properly. I approve very strongly of hard work, and she and her engine are the definition of it. Please do send my congratulations."

Pear Butter beamed with pride, the way only a mother can. "Ah'll see ta it that she knows!" she said, and headed away, leaving only a lunchbox.



Duck took his responsibilites for the Arlesburgh branch very seriously indeed, and talked endlessly of it. One night, he spoke with Donald as Apple Bloom was finishing throwing his fire out. "You don't understand Donald," he said. "Sir Toppham Hatt depends on me to keep this line running smoothly."

"What about me?" Stepney asked from an adjacent track. "I work hard here too, remember!"

"Yep!" Sweetie Belle added, as she cleared some more ash from his firebox. "We took the passengers who otherwise would have gone by road. And the roads here are so bad, they would be bounced about like beans on a frying pan!"

"Don't you youngsters know it," Donald grumbled. "Do you ever run out of energy? Now let me sleep."

"I'm Great Western and-"

"QUACK QUACK QUACK!"

"Erm, what?" Apple Bloom asked. "Is there a Duck here?"

"What did you say?" Duck asked.

"Ye heard me," Donald snorted. "All yer endles talkin', 'quack quack', it's like yer egg layin'! Now cut yer wheesht and let an engine sleep!"

"Quack yourself," Duck snapped, as Apple Bloom hopped off his footplate to speak to him.

"Ah heard all of that," she said sadly. "It's about time we taught him and Lyra that ya never mess with an Apple. But what ta do?"

"Here's an idea," Sweetie Belle whispered in her ear. Apple Bloom's face lit up like a Christmas tree when she heard it, and she worked her hardest to supress the giggles. Nothing else was said for about thirty minutes, but when Donald was at last asleep, Apple Bloom came back with an object, and popped it under the water tank cover.

"That'll teach him!" she whispered. The next day, Donald was being refuelled, and Lyra popped the water tank cover open, only to see sitting there was a large white duck. It quacked loudly.

"Now I wonder who did this?" Lyra asked. "I must say, it's a lot of effort for a practical joke. And you saw that one where Rainbow Dash turned the mouths of all the drivers at Tidmouth sheds rainbow coloured!"

"We should do somethin' back," Donald laughed.

The duck was tame, sharing Lyra's food and roaming in the tender. She was quacking here, quacking there, she was quacking everywhere. Quack, quack, choo choo choo, you could say she was a quackaroo!

The other engines teased Donald about it, but eventually the duck got tired of travelling and hopped off at Haultraugh, where it went to a nearby lake.

Lyra then planned to get her own back on Duck, so she snuck into the shed late at night and hid something behind Duck. When Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle clocked on for their shifts the next morning, they couldn't help laughing.

"Look at this!" Sweetie Belle called. "Somebody's left an egg!"

"Now Ah wonder who left these eggs here," Apple Bloom snorted. "They ain't big enough ta be duck eggs!" She picked one up and looked at it. "Empty. Anybody fancy a fry up?"

Lyra wandered in later, and Donald smiled. "Well, well, well Duck. Ye must have layed it in the night!"

Just then the smell of cooking bacon and eggs filled Lyra's nostrils. "Is somebody having a cookout here?"

She climbed onto Donald's footplate and saw Apple Bloom cooking food on a shovel- with her foot as far away from the blower handle as possible this time. "Would ya like some?" she asked. "That was a good prank ya pulled, but next time use bigger eggs."

Duck laughed in the spirit of things. "You win, Donald!" he said. "But one thing's for certain."

"Namely?"

"She'll always be Donald's Duck!"
> Resource and Sagacity (or, Oliver Owns Up)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oon aa clleaarrr ddaayy whhen the skkkkyyyy iiisssss bbblluueee, aaaaand theeeere iiiiis juuuust enouuuugh breeeeeze to blloooow the clouuuuuds awaaaaaaay....

Hold on a minute, the narrator seems to be in Season 8 mode. Let me fix things.

On a clear day when the sky is blue, and there is just enough breeze to blow the clouds away, you can stand on top of one of the great cliffs and watch Oliver, Duck, and Stepney all hard at work on the Arlesburgh branch line. Oliver is the newest of the three, as is his driver Scootaloo, but both are keen to make their mark and show what they can do, in Oliver's case because he wants to live up to the Great Western ways, and in Scootaloo's case because she doesn't want to let her adoptive parents down.

Both engines are painted in approximately matching livery, and make a marvellous sight with their auto-coaches and trucks. One day, Duck and Oliver were having a conversation at the junction at Arlesburgh West, where the Arlesburgh Branch meets the Arlesdale line. Oliver was mentioning the time he had escaped from scrap with Douglas' help.

"If Douglas hadn't saved me," he said, "I would probably have been scrapped, and would never have worked here or met any of you. I want to thank him for giving me a second chance."

"Me too," Scootaloo added, glancing about her. "A working railway beats an orphanage, any day. Still feels a little wierd calling my parents 'mom and dad' though."

"Yer all welcome ta come over ta Sweet Apple Acres if ya want," Apple Bloom told her. "We'd love ta meet yer folks."

"Stop talking and get back to work!" shouted Rex, from the nearby railway. "You're making us look quick!"

Oliver looked at Duck. "Well he's rude," he said.

"Don't mind him," Duck replied. "He takes his jobs very seriously."



It wasn't long before the others wanted to meet Oliver too, and although Scootaloo was initially uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting, she eventually opened up to the other drivers, who were very interested in her and Oliver's story. One night, Oliver had just finished telling the other engines the story of how Douglas had helped them escape.

"Remarkable," Henry said. "A credit to us all."

"That," James told Oliver, "is Resource."

"And Sagacity," Gordon added.

"What's that?" Scootaloo asked.

"It means yer sagacious," Applejack told her.

"And what does being sagacious mean?" Oliver asked as well.

"It means you have the ability or have shown the ability to make good judgements," Rarity explained. "You chose your moment well, and have reaped the rewards of your sagaciousness."

"Sagacity," Thomas commented quietly. "What an odd word."

"Oliver and Scootaloo are examples to us all," Gordon finished. "Three cheers for the Little Western!"



Unfortunately, Oliver took the meaning of Gordon's words entirely the wrong way. Given Gordon's word was law, he took it he knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, the opposite was true. "I feel as if we can do anything if we put our minds to it!" he said.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Scootaloo replied. "It's been years since we last handled trucks, for instance. I'm not looking forward to that at all."

Later on, Oliver was assigned to the goods yard at Arlesburgh. Every wise engine knows that you cannot trust trucks, and Oliver tried his hardest to listen, but it was a lot to take on and he began to get confused. "Do you think I'm doing a good job?" he asked Duck, one day. "Gordon says I'm sagacious, but these trucks are something else!"

"At least you have the honesty to admit the fact you're having issues," Duck said. "You might be goodgracious or whatever it is you said, but trucks can be trouble and-"

"OLIVER!" shouted the foreman. "THERE ARE SOME TRUCKS THAT NEED TAKING. HOP TO IT!"

"Yes sir!" Oliver called, and he stormed away.

"He seems OK," Donald said sadly, "but I fear the engine will have ta learn how ta handle trucks by himself."



Oliver removed some of the loaded trucks from the sidings, and moved empties to the chute at the other end of the yard. When they were loaded, he came back to take the loaded trucks away. They were warm and comfortable, and didn't want to move.

"What right do those two think they have to poke about here?" asked one.

"We want Duck!"

"Or Donald!"

"Or Douglas!"

"That's quite enough," said Scootaloo sternly. "We're the only engine crew on the depot today, so you'll have to grit it and bear it."

"So that means no nonsense," said Oliver as he coupled up to them.

This was the last straw for the trucks. "That's it," said one. "Time to pay those two out."

Oliver, of course, heard nothing at all. The train moved smoothly at first, but suddenly the trucks all slammed into each other. "ON! ON! ON!"

The combined noise of screeching brakes, sliding wheels and screaming trucks, who seemed to have some sort of death wish, was both deafening and terrifying. Scootaloo slammed Oliver's brakes on, but the speed wasn't dropping. If anything, it seemed to be climbing as they slid through the yard.

"Why are we still picking up speed?" she yelled.

"We're on a downhill bit!" Oliver replied. "Duck told me!"

The brakes were useless as they slid along at speeds in excess of thirty miles an hour. Scootaloo glanced behind in shock. "Oh no! The turntable's occupied!"

And it was. Duck was still being turned. Any minute now there would be a crash!

Oliver began whistling loudly to warn them. "DUCK! DUCK! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Duck shot backwards off the turntable, which had turned to face a different way to that which Oliver was approaching from. Apple Bloom shouted over to her friend. "BAIL! BAIL!"

Scootaloo jumped from the footplate as Oliver fell backwards into the turntable pit. The coupling snapped, and he toppled into the hole, coming to a dead stop as the trucks rolled to a stop.

Duck glanced over the damage. "Just you hang in there, Oliver!" he called. "I'll get these trucks moved, and then we can pull you out!"

"Much appreciated!" Oliver replied. "But I must say I thoroughly doubt the word 'sagacious' describes me accurately now."

"That," Scootaloo said, looking worried, "I think is the least of our troubles. My first day on trucks, and I messed up. Way to make mom and dad proud."

It took them a few hours to lift Oliver out of the turntable pit, and they put him back on the rails. He looked miserable. "I guess I'm just a foolish engine after all," he sighed.

Mr Shutter and Mrs Allgood had turned up to check if Oliver was damaged, and if Scootaloo was hurt. "Are you alright?" they asked their daughter, who was looking at the floor.

In response, Scootaloo just mumbled. "Sorry for messing up." She glanced up at them. "I know. I really let you down."

"No you didn't!" Snap Shutter said. "We all make mistakes, you know. Why, on my first day of driving lessons, I put diesel fuel in a petrol engine. That didn't end well!"

"Wait, really?" Scootaloo asked. "But you always know what to do!"

"Kiddo, there's a difference between knowing a load of stuff and knowing how to apply it. You clearly know a lot, but just need to learn how to apply it."

"The same goes for me," Oliver added. "I'm not sagacious, I'm just silly."

"You now know the damage trucks can do, the hard way," Sir Toppham Hatt said. "But that is an important lesson to learn. You aren't foolish, just inexperienced. There is no teacher better than experience, and I imagine tomorrow will be a better day."

Both Oliver and his driver were determined to ensure this was the case. But when they came into the yard the next day, there were a lot of laughing trucks.
> Toad Stands By
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver had come back from Crovan's Gate works and had been fully mended. His accident in the turntable pit had been relatively minor, and the works hadn't had too much difficulty in repairing the damage. Now he was good as new, as he had been just a few weeks earlier, and was eager to get back to work with Scootaloo. Oliver was, understandably, nervous about working with trucks, and would have preferred not to.

He had good reason to be nervous, as unfortunately, the trucks had not forgiven him, or had any mind to let him forget the incident, and sat there in the yard singing rudely. They were led in their rude singing by one S. C. Ruffey, a private owner's wagon belonging to a Tidmouth ballast contractor (which, since this chapter was recorded, has sadly gone into administration). They sang, rude, loud, and in perfect four part harmony.

“Oliver's no use at all, he thinks he's very clever!
He says that he can manage us; That's the best joke ever!
When he orders us about, With the greatest folly,
We just push him down the well... Pop goes old Ollie!”

Then they began singing in a round, much like they had for Diesel;

“Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-"

The other engines had had enough. Thomas, Percy and Duck all whistled loudly. "Be quiet!" they ordered.

"Or what?" one of the trucks jeered in response. "Are you so scared of offending that little reject who drives him?"

Scootaloo froze in shock. How did that truck know she was adopted?

S. C. Ruffey sensed the bait, and went in for the killing blow. "That's right! She and Oliver stick together because nobody else wants them! Hahahahahahahaha!" And the other trucks joined in laughing rudely.

Scootaloo began to sob, but Apple Bloom had had enough. She threw a ball at S. C. Ruffey, which bounced of his frames. "Ah don't care what anybody else thinks, but SHUT UP!"

"Quite right!" Twilight added. "You silly trucks are nothing but a nuisance!"

"But you can't do without us," one replied, and they started laughing and jeering again. The engines bumped them to make them be quiet, but they couldn't be everywhere, and everywhere they weren't the trucks simply began singing and cheering again.

“Oliver's no use at all, he thinks he's very clever!
He says that he can manage us; That's the best joke ever!
When he orders us about, With the greatest folly,
We just push him down the well... Pop goes old Ollie!”

Eventually, the engines gave up. "Sorry about them," said Percy. "I should have warned you about them."

"It's my fault really," Oliver said sadly. "If I hadn't been naive, I wouldn't have fallen in the pit."

"Rubbish!" Pinkie said in response. "Even the most experienced of engines find trucks difficult to work with! Once, Percy and I got pushed into the sea by trucks."

"Though may I remind you that's because Percy told them to?" Twilight replied rhetorically.

"Alright, alright, there's no need to split hairs," Percy responded.

"You don't have any hair," Duck said, confused.

Apple Bloom then spoke up. "Scoots, Ah'll make it up ta ya. How about we have a sleepover at Sweet Apple Acres next week? Ah'll invite Sweetie Belle too, and we can just have fun together."

Scootaloo smiled weakly. "I'd like that," she said. It was obvious that a lot was on her mind.



Toad the brakevan had overheard the entire conversation, and safe to say he felt sorry for Oliver. One day, in the yard, Douglas rolled under the loading gauge and came to a stop.

It was then Toad spoke up. "I find it shocking, Mr Douglas," he said. "This complete and utter disrespect for engines, and disregard for safety. It's only going to end in somebody being hurt or worse, killed."

"I know," said Douglas, "but as long as they regard us as pushovers, there's nothin' we can do."

"Unless," said Bon-Bon, "we make an example of one of them. That S. C. Ruffey has been the one causing all the trouble, so if we were to do something to him, that would solve the problem."

"I have a plan, Miss Bon-Bon," Toad replied to her, "so can I stay here and work with Mr Oliver and Miss Scootaloo? We're all Great Western, and Great Western engines and rolling stock must stand together."

"You're quite right," Douglas replied. "We Caledonian engines would, so it is reasonable that Great Western machines would too. Cheerio!"



Later on, Toad explained his plan to Oliver and Duck. Duck looked surprised. "Are you really sure that step is neccesary?" he asked. "It does seem a rather extreme response."

"You sometimes have to be cruel to be kind," Toad replied. "Besides, what is one humiliated truck to all the lives this will save?"

"He not only insulted me," Scootaloo said, rubbing her hands together, "but my friends too. I'm in, Toad. We're taking this step."

"Besides," Oliver said, "I started this off, so I must put it right. As you just heard, Scootaloo agrees it must be done, so we're doing it."

"Alright," Duck sighed. "I don't like it, but I won't try to stop you. Besides, Apple Bloom and I must be off, passengers to pull. Goodbye!"

"Good luck Scoots," Apple Bloom called.

"I think we'll need it," Scootaloo grimly replied.



Oliver spent the rest of the morning assembling the worst trucks he could find, leaving S. C. Ruffey for last. He put him behind him, as Duck came to a stop at the platform.

"Hold back, hold back," S. C. Ruffey laughed, and the trucks laughed with him. Though Oliver wasn't fussed. This was planned. Scootaloo spread sand on the rails, and he knew exactly what he had to do. His driver back on the footplate, he whistled.

Scootaloo knew that was the signal. With one move, she pulled his regulator open to full, and he surged forward, pulled back by the weight of the trucks. But he continued to apply power, and could hear a creaking noise behind him.

S. C. Ruffey didn't seem to be enjoying himself. "I don't like this!" he exclaimed.

"Keep it up!" Duck yelled. "You'll make a fool of him yet!"

"Wait!" Apple Bloom shouted over all the commotion. "That wagon's startin' to break up!"

But nobody heard a word of what she was saying. S. C. Ruffey could be heard making noise, but nobody could understand it.

Scootaloo just happened to glance behind her, when she heard it.

"I'M COMING APART!"

She looked forward. "Oliver, stop!" she shouted. "The truck's co-"

She didn't finish her sentence. The nails holding S. C. Ruffey together broke, and his sides were ripped off as his rear coupling snapped. His frames split in two, and Oliver dragged the front half of the former truck for fifty or so feet before he came to a stop.

"What just happened?" Oliver asked. He hadn't expected that at all.

Scootaloo sighed. "We're dead."



Sir Toppham Hatt arrived to look at the mess. "This is the second time there's been trouble between you and the trucks," he said, "and you seem to not know your own strength, is that it?"

"Yes sir," Oliver said quietly.

"Well, given what we just saw, I doubt there will be a third. Or else, Scootaloo, your parents will be informed."

"We already know," said the voice of Snap Shutter from the nearby train. "And to think our child was capable of something like that!"

Scootaloo sank down on Oliver's footplate. "Sorry."

"Whatever for?" Mane Allgood replied. "This should help to keep the trucks in order!"

Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. "This is typical of Private Owner's wagons," he said. "Rotten frames, dodgy nails, bad wood. This thing was a wreck on wheels. Hopefully, when the carriage and wagon works reassembles this mess, he won't fall to pieces again."

Oliver and Scootaloo now only take goods trains when they have to, but they rarely have trouble if they do. The trucks are absolutely terrified of them, and behave themselves.

S. C. Ruffey himself dispenses much of this advice. "Watch what you do with him," he says, "or else you may find yourself a different truck- literally!"
> Bulgy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Bank Holiday weekend on the Island of Sodor, and the people of the Island and nearby England were taking the opportunity to have a nice short getaway. Practically every form of vehicle that could move had been pressed into service to move the boatloads of passengers who had arrived on the Island, and one morning Duck sat at Tidmouth station, waiting to depart for Arlesburgh West. The signal was red, and Stepney wasn't due in for another few minutes, so he took the opportunity to look about the yard and see what he could see.

Suddenly, on his left, a big double decker bus appeared. He was painted red and cream, and he didn't look friendly like Bertie. Instead, he had a great big scowl on his face, and was covered in posters reading FREE THE ROADS. He glared at the passengers, and his engine growled and roared as he saw them boarding Duck's train.

"Stupid nonsense, eh Gilda?" he said. "I wouldn't have brought them if I'd known they were going to have a right on a steam train. I'd have broken down on the way, or something."

"And I could be in bed," said his driver, a woman with brownish skin and white hair, combined with piercing green eyes, a blue shirt, a black leather jacket, blue jeans and a pair of yellow boots. "It would have been a nice way to spend a Monday instead of sitting in this heat!"

"It's hotter in here!" Apple Bloom shouted over to her. "Y'all just try bein' on the footplate of a steam engine fer a change!"

"It's a good thing you didn't break down, Mr..."

"Bulgy. The woman's called Georgia, or Gilda if you want to use her nickname."

"It's a good thing you didn't break down, Mr Bulgy," Duck went on. "You'd have ruined their fun otherwise!"

"Oh really?" Bulgy snorted. "One of these days, your silly railway will be ripped up and it will become a guided bus-way!"

Duck was horrified. "We have a friend called Bertie. He's a bus, but he likes the railway. He'd never want it ripped up! It'd mean his friends were gone, and we couldn't have that, could we?"

"Ah Bertie, the old slowpoke. He once ran himself silly chasing Edward along his branch line, and he's too slow and unpredictable to be of any use, unlike us diesel buses."

"Come on, time to go," Gilda said, as she put Bulgy into reverse. The bus drove off and Stepney rolled into the platform.

Duck was still fuming. "Beware that Bulgy!" he called to Stepney. "He's silly and the rudest vehicle I've ever met!"

"Even more rude than D199?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Even more rude!" Apple Bloom replied.



Duck warned Oliver about Bulgy, but Oliver took little notice of that. But later on, Oliver pulled into Arlesburgh West, and he looked furious.

"Look out!" Oliver called to Duck. "There's another bus just like Bulgy who's taking his passengers, so he can take ours!"

"We're not kidding," Scootaloo added. "He looks exactly the same, and the only way you can tell them apart is by the driver."

"But he can't take our passengers!" Duck said, horrified. "Besides, how long does it take by road? An hour at least. Does it, Apple Bloom?"

"Yep," his driver replied, sighing and huffing a bit. "We used ta have ta take the apples ta market by that road. Thankfully we don't anymore, thanks to this here railway."

"Bulgy claims to know a shortcut," Scootaloo said. "I'm calling fiddlesticks on that, there's no way a bus like him could find a way through."



Later that day still, at Arlesburgh West once more, Scootaloo oiled Oliver down for the return rush to Tidmouth as Duck was backed onto his coaches. But the platform, which they were expecting to be busy, was completely empty. "Where are the passengers?" asked Duck.

"Look!" Oliver called. "There he goes!"

Bulgy roared out of the parking lot. On his sides were the markings RAIL REPLACEMENT BUS. "Ya boo, snubs!" he cried as he sped down the road.

"He's nicking our passengers!" Duck shouted. "Honestly, the nerve of that bus!"

"Oh no he ain't," Apple Bloom said. "Let's go! We can beat him to Tidmouth!" With a roar and a puff of smoke, Duck thundered out of the station and into hot pursuit of the bus. The road and railway don't follow each other, so Duck had no idea of Bulgy's progress, but when he was halfway down the line he saw a man holding a red flag up ahead. Apple Bloom applied Duck's brakes, brought him to a stop, and walked over to the workman. "What's goin' on?" she asked.

"Bulgy attempted to go under this bridge. He's too tall for it, so he's stuck there!" the workman replied. "Rather like that Halford's van a few years back!"

"Is the bridge stable?" Apple Bloom asked.

"Only if you go over slowly."

Duck rolled his eyes. "So this was Bulgy's shortcut. No wonder he got stuck."

A passenger ran out, angry. "This stupid bus tricked us!" he shouted. "The driver wouldn't accept our return tickets and tried to make us think he was a railway bus! Can we catch the train instead!"

"Climb up the embankment and get onboard!" Duck replied. They did, and hopped into the coaches. Duck slowly, nervously, carefully rolled over the bridge. Bulgy shouted up.

"Watch it!" he shouted. "It may fall on me and Gilda!"

"Well, you shouldn't have tried to fit under a bridge that was too small for you, eh?" Duck replied. "It would probably have been worth it to 'go the extra mile?' Get it?"

Apple Bloom groaned at the dreadful pun. "Can we just get off this bridge and away from this bus?" she asked, annoyed.



Duck made it on time, and his passengers caught their connections. Bulgy never did go back into service; he was so badly damaged that passengers stopped trusting the bus company he belonged to, which went under. He is now in use as a henhouse, which is good for a serial liar. The hens never listen anyway!
> Grandpuff
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One cold, dark night, the wind howled around Sweet Apple Acres and moaned against the windows panes, which rattled and shuddered as the wind rocked against them. Inside, in the farmhouse, the Cumbrian Mountain Crusaders (or CMC) were bundled up in their pyjamas and lay inside their sleeping bags, listening to the wind.

"I'm glad we chose to use the basement rather than the tent!" Scootaloo commented. The three girls were having the promised sleepover mentioned a while ago, but the plan to sleep out one night had been rapidly abandoned due to the bad weather outside. Now they were indoors in the basement, prepping to go to sleep.

"Trying to sleep outside in this weather would have been horrible," Sweetie Belle said, shivering slightly at even the noise of the wind.

"Ah know they say endurance builds character, but not if it makes ya freezin' cold and potentially blows yer tent down," Apple Bloom added, shrugging her shoulders. "Ah well. May tomorra."

Just then, the door to the basement opened, and Pear Butter stepped in. "Howdy you three," she said, with a smile. "Gettin' ready ta sleep?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo replied. "Thanks for having me over Mrs Butter."

Pear Butter laughed. "Please, call me Pear. Any friend of mah daughter's is effectively family. Do ya need anythin' else before ya go ta sleep?"

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment. "What we need," she said, "is to listen to a story."

"A mysterious story," Scootaloo added.

"But," Apple Bloom stipulated quickly, "it must have a happy endin'."

They half expected Pear to laugh at the suggestion. But, to their surprise, she sat down on a nearby chair and smiled. "Ah haven't told this one in a lon' time," she smiled. "Last time Ah did, Applejack was still a baby. This all started a lon' time ago, when Ah was a lot younger than Ah am now..."





Arlesburgh area, twenty years ago

A long time ago, three little engines lived on their own little railway in their own little shed. Or was it that three little engines lived in their own little shed, on their own little railway? One of the two. These three engines were all saddle tanks. One was painted brown, and had a square cab and a small tender. He was named Duke. The other two lacked tenders, and looked very similar externally. One was painted green, and the other blue. The first was called Stuart, and the second Falcon.

They had drivers, naturally. Duke was driven by a teenage girl with mulberry skin, dark purple hair, and green eyes. She typically wore a cream blouse with black buttons, a green skirt with dots on it, and purple and white boots. Her real name was Cheryl Lee, or Cheerilee for short. Stuart was driven by a girl of a similar age, with light orange skin, dark orange hair that was wild and frizzy, and gentle green eyes. She wore a blue chequered shirt, blue jeans, a belt with an image of a pear set into it as the buckle, and a pair of brown boots. She was usually referred to as Buttercup. Falcon, on the other hand, was driven by a boy in the same age group. He had yellow skin and red hair as bright as you could imagine. As well as green eyes. He wore a white T shirt, a red jacket with brown lapels, a large stetson hat that lived on his head, blue jeans, and brown boots. He was Bright Mac, and to say he didn't have affection for Buttercup would have been a lie.

Duke was the oldest of the three, and was named after the Duke of Sodor. He was very proud of this fact, and incredibly keen to do things the proper way. As a result, he regularly kept the other engines in order. Whenever they did anything that either Duke or Cheerilee disapproved of, he would simply roll his eyes and say, "that would never suit his grace."

Other engines came and other engines went, as did their crews, but Duke and Cheerilee outlasted each and every one of them. The other engines called him Grandpuff, as they were fond of him, but got very tired about hearing about His Grace, and began to jokingly sing about it.

"Engines come and engines go, but Grandpuff goes on forever!" they sang, one morning, as Duke rolled by with a goods train.

Duke sighed. "You impertinent scallywags," he said. "Whatever is the world coming to, Cheerilee?"

"I know," Cheerilee sighed. "We need to do a better job of keeping them in line."

Buttercup giggled. "She already sounds like a schoolteacher!"

"Ah know, right?" Bright Mac added.

Stuart smiled. "No harm meant, Duke," he said. "We were only teasing. Never mind, we're only young once."

"You'd better mind!" snapped Duke. "Unless you intend to end up like Stanley!"

Falcon looked confused. "Who's Stanley?" he asked.

"Stanley," Cheerilee began, "was American, and was cocky and arrogant. He was a rough rider and often came off the rails, but his attitude toward having accidents was disturbingly casual."

"As well I remember," Duke sighed. "I came across him once after he'd had one of his accidents. 'Be careful on the rails, Stanley,' I told him. He took no notice. 'Listen, bud,' he drawled, in that way he did-"

"That is a terrible Midwest accent," Bright Mac said.

Duke continued as if nothing had been said. "'Listen, bud,' he drawled, in that way he did, 'out in the States, and even on the trench lines, we didn't care nothin' for a few spills.' Cheerilee reminded him that we do here, but he just laughed. He wasn't laughing that evening, though."

"What happened?" asked Stuart.

"Management took his wheels off and converted him into a generator unit. He's still there behind the shed, and he's not going anywhere in a hurry." On that note, Duke took off down the line.

Stuart, Falcon, Buttercup and Bright Mac said little for the next few days, and rarely made errors. And so, the three engines and their drivers lived together happily for many years. Sadly, in the mid 1990s, the economy crashed, and hard times came upon the island. The mines began to close, one by one. With no source of income, the railway was forced to close too. Men with clipboards and bowler hats came by, and decided what they wanted to buy.

"We'll have those two," said one man. "But we're not hiring their drivers."

Alas, nobody wanted Duke. "Cheer up, Grandpuff!" called Stuart. "We'll find a new home, and then bring you there and you can keep us in order!"

Everybody tried to be brave, but nobody could predict the future. Cheerilee oiled Duke over one last time, and said goodbye after shutting him in his shed. She had to go back to school, and she had no job now. Bright Mac and Buttercup also returned to whichever country they had come from. Duke wasn't sure if they were Canadian or American.

Duke was all alone. "Oh well," he said. "I'll go to sleep and pass the time. Panicking won't help. That would never suit his grace."

But the Duke had been killed in the War, and the new Duke, a young boy, had no awareness of Duke existing. As the years passed, storms and rains washed all traces of the railway away, and the shed was buried under moss and greenery. You would never have known that a shed was there, let alone a little engine asleep inside.





Sweet Apple Acres, Present day

The three girls had no idea how to react to that. After a few moments of stunned silence, Scootaloo went to comfort Sweetie Belle, who was quietly sobbing about the old engine lost in the hills.

Scootaloo looked up. "Why did you tell us that?" she asked. "That was more or less the opposite of what we asked for!"

"That was really sad," Apple Bloom added. "Where was this railway?"

Pear sat back briefly. "That ain't the end of the story," she said. "Ah can tell ya the next parts, if ya want. But not tonight. You three need ta get off ta sleep."

"Hopefully they'll be more cheerful," Scootaloo replied. "I've had quite my fill of depressing stories about closed railways for the day."
> Bulldog
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now the next day, and the storm over Sweet Apple Acres had cleared. The sky was blue, and the birds were singing. Apple Bloom and her two friends were out in the fields having fun. Around midday, the trio began to get hungry, and sat outside an old clubhouse like structure which had been built in a nearby tree. None of them had gone in it as they were not yet sure if it could take their weight. It was old, and was a leftover of the last owner. As they sat outside on a picnic bench that was there for some reason, Apple Bloom's stomach growled.

"Ah, come on!" she said. "How can it take so long ta make lunch?"

"They're making extra big portions for you," Sweetie Belle joked. "You've easily got the biggest appetite out of the three of us."

Apple Bloom went red, and put her head in her hands.

"Look! It's Pear!" Scootaloo called. Pear was walking over to them with a picnic basket, laden with items. She placed it down on the table and sat with them.

"Hello girls," she said. "Ah thought Ah'd come and join ya out here. Havin' fun?"

"Yep!" Scootaloo replied. "This orchard is amazing! The orphanage had nowhere near as much space as this."

Pear smiled. "Pity we can't sustain ourselves purely on apples," she replied. "We all have other jobs."

Sweetie Belle grinned. "Apple Bloom must be extra hungry, as she seemed to be a bit impatient!"

"Just... stop," came the muffled reply.

Pear laughed. "Ah yes, the legendary Apple family appetite. She gets that from her father." She put the basket down and opened it up, distributing plates, cups, and even knifes and forks. The food was shared around, and after Grace was said, they tucked in.

Apple Bloom had forgotten to be annoyed, and happily joined in with the conversation going around. Soon, Pear introduced a new topic. "You three are youn'. You have good heads on your shoulders, and are good, smart kids. But ya need to not be impatient, as Duke ain't here this time ta save ya."

"Oh yes, the railway from yesterday," Scootaloo said. "Please do tell us."

And so Pear began...





Twenty years ago

Back in the older days, Falcon was a relatively new engine, and his driver, Bright Mac, was relatively inexperienced. They made up for it in work ethic, however, and the manager was pleased.

"Falcon, Bright Mac," he said, "I am highly impressed with your work so far. Now, you two must learn the hardest bit of the line. We call it the Mountain Road."

"Thank you sir!" Falcon replied.

"So, tomorrow, you shall join Duke on a passenger train after you have been repainted, and he shall explain everything," the manager said, and walked away. Falcon's face fell.

The next morning, Cheerilee and Bright Mac shook hands formally. "Good mornin', Miss Cheerilee," Bright Mac said to her.

"That's a bit formal," Cheerilee replied. "I'm fine with just Cheerilee. Nice to meet you, Bright Mac."

"Eeyup."

Meanwhile, Duke was talking to Falcon. "The mountain road is steep and dangerous," he said. "You stay back and I'll lead."

"No, I'll lead!" Falcon insisted. "How on Earth can I learn the route if you're lumbering ahead and blocking the view?"

Duke sighed. "Suit yourself," he said. "But never mind the view, look at the track."



A few hours later, Duke and Falcon set off up the line. Falcon seemed to be distracted by the mountain scenery

"Look at the track, never mind the view," Duke said. "Look at the track, never mind the view."

Falcon snorted. "Fusspot, fuddy duddy, fusspot, fuddy duddy."

Speed continued to drop, and Falcon became impatient. "Hurry up!" he said, "Don't dawdle!"

"There's plenty of time," Duke reminded him. "There's no need to hurry up."

They then went into a tunnel. Falcon had never liked tunnels, and this one was the worst as it was long and curved. But at last the end loomed. "We're through!" Bright Mac cheered as Falcon cleared the tunnel portal at the other end. But things soon got worse.

One second, Falcon was one the rails. The next, the track gave way and Falcon lurched to one side. Within seconds, he was hanging at a precarious angle over the ravine. Duke held him back as best he could.

"Stop shaking!" he said. "I can't hold you if you shake!"

Falcon did his best to stop shaking. Cheerilee worked fast to secure Falcon in place, and secured cables and chains between the two engines. Then suddenly, a loud wheeshing noise was let off from the safety valve of Duke.

Cheerilee threw open the water tank cover and gasped. "Water!" she cried. "We need water or else Duke will blow up!"

Luckily, there was a workman's cottage nearby. Everybody got to work passing jugs, saucepans, kettles, anything that could hold water to fill Duke's tanks until it was completely full. It was filled up successfully, and disaster was averted. During that time, Duke had built up enough steam pressure to move Falcon back onto the rails, through the passengers helped of course, and they soon continued on their way. Although they arrived late at the end of the line, the passengers didn't mind.

"Your Duke," they said, "is a hero. He held on like a bulldog and wouldn't let go!"

Falcon drew up on the other side. "I'm thankful too," he said. "There's no telling where'd I be now if you hadn't saved me and Bright Mac, especially after I'd been so rude to you!"

Duke smiled. "Oh well," he said. "You'd just had a new coat of paint. It would have been a terrible shame if you'd rolled down the mountainside and spoiled it!"

At this, both engines began laughing.





Sweet Apple Acres, present day

"And so," Pear Butter finished, "Falcon learned the importance of not bein' impatient, and always enjoyin' every moment of life. Ah hope it's a lesson you three have learned too."

Apple Bloom nodded. "Yes ma. Thanks fer the story. Ah needed that Ah guess."

"Thanks for the story, and the food." Scootaloo nodded as she cleared her plate.

Pear smiled, and got up. "Well, Ah need ta get back ta work now. But Ah'll tell ya another one tonight, and that one does have a happy endin'."
> You Can't Win
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now night time again, and the Crusaders gathered in the basement for bed once more. They were sad. Tomorrow was a school day, and that meant going and learning things, which could be pretty hard on them as it was sometimes stuff they weren't even interested in. As they settled in their sleeping bags and got ready to nod off, Pear came down into the room and sat down on the nearby chair.

"Evenin', ma," Apple Bloom yawned, as she looked up at her mother. "Ya here for the story?"

"Yes indeed," Pear Butter replied. "But Ah can hardly tell it if y'all ain't awake, see?"

The tiredness in the eyes of Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle vanished in an instant. "Please, do tell us!" they said in unison, which was mildly creepy.

Pear smiled, and relaxed in the chair. "Here is another story about Duke..."





Arlesburgh depot, 20 years ago...

Cheerilee sat on a chair doing some maintenance work on Duke. The season up to that point had been very busy. A lot of people came to see the mountains year after year, and of course see Duke, but they also had large numbers of new customers on the railway. It was a miracle that only three engines could handle the trains, but handle it they did.

Duke was especially stubborn in that regard. Even if he felt ill, he would always take his train up the line every morning, and stop wherever they wanted on the line. Today, however, Duke had been steaming badly and was running poorly. Cheerilee had just finished mucking out his smokebox and cleaning his tubes when suddenly Stuart appeared.

"Hello grandpuff!" he called. "Are you short of puff?"

"Nothing of the sort," Duke grunted back. "This is routine maintenance, similar to that which Buttercup does on you."

"We've just finished cleaning the tubes out and the firebox is clear of ash," Cheerilee told him.

Stuart looked sad. "You know," he said, "we need to look after you in case you break down."

Duke snorted. "Pah! That'll be the day!" And with Cheerilee back at his controls, he puffed away up the line.

Stuart, on the other hand, looked confused. "Why is he referencing Buddy Holly?"

"He may not be," Buttercup told him. "That's also a quote from The Searchers. But the Buddy Holly song's a good one though. Ah must learn it on guitar, Bright would love that." Her face went red when she thought of him, as she was more than a little taken with him.



Duke didn't stay angry for long. He was smiling as he rolled along the line with his train. It was a splendid evening, and the weather was wonderful and warm. "Couldn't be better, couldn't be better!" he exclaimed. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course!" Cheerilee replied, as she looked about before adjusting the controls. "Just remember to keep your eye on the track-"

"Never mind the view."

It wasn't long before the line started to climb into the hills, and Duke began to have problems. "I should have plenty of steam, so what in the world is wrong?" he asked. Anybody looking could have told you what was wrong. His valves were leaking steam, his wheels were slipping badly on the grade, and he got slower and slower until he was barely doing a crawl. Cheerilee hit the blower to try and speed the train up, but it did little good. Duke rolled slowly and pathetically into the station at the top of the hill, and sighed.

Cheerilee got out to examine Duke, whilst the passengers watched on, worried at whether they would make the boat or not. After a few minutes, Cheerilee turned around to explain what was going on.

"Duke," she said, "has leaking valves and some weeping tubes. As a result, we may be a bit late to the harbour station. Don't worry, you'll still make your boat, but two other engines will come to assist the train to the station."

Not long after, Stuart and Falcon arrived. Bright Mac coupled Falcon to the front of the train, so that Duke was now the second vehicle in the train. Buttercup, on the other hand, coupled Stuart to the rear. All the while the green saddle tank was chortling like a traction engine.

"Oh dear," Falcon said sadly. "Poor old Grandpuff, broken down like this."

"Peep peep! That'll be the day!" Stuart teased. "And indeed it is the day!"

Buttercup smiled. "Ya say yer gonna leave, well ya know that's a lie."

"Cause that'll be the day when Ah die!" Bright Mac finished.

"Are you ready?" called Falcon.

"Ready!" Stuart replied. "Let's go! Let's go!"

And so, the cavalcade set off down the line for the harbour station. Duke rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I am never hearing the end of this, am I?" he asked his driver as he looked at the rails (which took some doing given an engine was coupled in front of him).

"They mean no harm," Cheerilee said. "They're only teasing. Besides, I've got a plan to pay them back."

At the next station, the train was split up. Falcon and Bright Mac took the passengers to the boat, and Stuart was run around the front of the train to assist Duke back to the depot. "Poor old you, broken down!" Stuart said, as he pulled away. "Poor old engine! Poor old engine!"

"All right, all right, don't rub it in," Duke grumbled. He smiled. He had a plan, as Cheerilee had said, and he had plenty of steam left. When they reached the valley, which had superb accoustics, Cheerilee went into action.

"NOW!" she cried, and wound Duke's regulator forward to maximum and opened the regulator to full. Duke lurched forward as smoke and steam shot from his funnel, the noise echoing around the valley. The volume was deafening, and luckily a waiting cameraman captured the entire scene on film, which can be viewed via the link in the author's notes.

When they got back to the depot, everybody was waiting to see them in. "What happened?" asked a boy.

"Well," said his father, "Duke had to assist Stuart as he was short of steam, and propelled the entire train here under his own power!"

Stuart was about to correct him, but upon realising the absurdity of the situation, simply started laughing.

"You can't win!" Duke added, and the entire station sounded to mirth and merriment. Stuart had had a good joke played upon him, and he was gracious in accepting it.
> Sleeping Beauty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Pear finished telling the story of how Duke paid Stuart out, Apple Bloom appeared to be lost in thought. "Is there any trace left of that old line where he lived?" she asked.

"Ah don't think so," Pear replied. "The entire area's gone back to nature now, although some of the original route is now the Arlesdale Railway."

Scootaloo looked over. "That's not far from here!" she said suddenly. "Arlesburgh West is only a few miles away."

Sweetie Belle was thinking too. "Wait," she said. "You mentioned a Cheerilee in one of the stories. Isn't one of our teachers a Cheerilee?"

"Yer right!" Apple Bloom replied. "She teaches us English, as well as overseein' the library. Can't be easy doin' two jobs at once."

"How about we ask her tomorrow?" Scootaloo asked. "She's bound to have something to tell us!"

"Ah'll come in too," Pear Butter told the trio. "Ah'd be interested in lookin' about too. But before then, y'all need ta get off ta bed." She got up out of her chair, and walked up the stairs, shutting off the light as she did so.



The next day at Knapford Secondary School, Cheerilee dismissed her last class before break time. She was quite a bit older now, and was dressed somewhat more formally than she had been in the day, wearing a white formal shirt, a brown vest, a green skirt with a flower pattern on it, and brown boots. "Now I can have a rest," she said.

She was soon proven wrong, as the door flew open, and three freshmen fell on top of each other. "Ya wouldn't mind gettin' off, Scootaloo?" Apple Bloom asked, at the bottom of the pile.

"Why are you asking me? Sweetie Belle's weighing me down?"

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, but I can't move with you on top of me!"

"Ah kinda need ta be able ta breathe down here as well!"

Cheerilee walked over, and helped Sweetie Belle off the pile. Scootaloo soon got to her feet, and Apple Bloom soon followed. "Hello girls!" she said. "How can I help you today?"'

"We want ta know about yer time with Duke!" Apple Bloom asked. "Ma's been tellin' us these stories about you and an engine called Duke. Somethin' about a railway in the hills."

"Good heavens!" Cheerilee replied. "Now that was a long time ago." She glanced up, and suddenly saw Pear standing in the door. "Buttercup?"

"Ah go formally by Pear Butter now," Pear replied. "But it's great ta see ya again. How ya doin'?"

"Oh, same as ever. Teaching, stuff like that."

Scootaloo glanced back. "Now it makes sense why you wanted to come with us!" she said. "You used to work there yourself!"

Pear nodded. "As did Bright. It's how Ah met him, and the rest is history."

Apple Bloom had to bend down and pick her jaw up off the floor in amazement at this piece of news. But Cheerilee soon got to business, rolling out an Ordnance Survey map of the Arlesburgh area. "I never forgot Duke," she said, "and I regret leaving him the way I did. I want to make this right, and make Duke happy again."

She pointed to the map. "This is the Arlesdale Railway," she quickly explained, "which runs from Arlesburgh West to Arlesdale. It follows the old aligment of the Mid Sodor for 10 miles, before swinging off near the site of the old works. The Mid Sodor continued straight for several miles into the hills. So if we go there, we should find him."

"Hooray!" Sweetie Belle cried. "Cumbrian Mountain Crusaders Engine Rescuers!"

Pear looked at her.

"With adult supervision, of course."



Later on, the five of them caught a train on the Arlesdale railway from Arlesburgh West out to Arlesdale. They got off and headed into the hills. Soon enough, they arrived at the site of the old works. "It's changed completely since we were last here!" Cheerilee said. "I don't recognise the place!" And she was right. The area was completely overgrown and covered in shrubs and bushes.

"If you had never looked at a map," Pear observed, "You'd never have guessed there had ever been a railway here."

Scootaloo consulted her list. "There's two engines in the area," she said. "Duke, and Stanley. So, I suggest we split up and go look as two separate teams."

"That sounds like a good idea," Apple Bloom replied. "Ah'll go with Cheerilee ta find Duke, and you two can go with Ma ta find Stanley."

So, they split up and went in separate directions to find their respective engines. They found nothing that day, but vowed to return the next day. And they returned the next day, and the next, and the next. And still they found nothing. But they refused to give up. The search came to an unexpected end on the fifth day. Cheerilee and Apple Bloom scrambled up a bank, having first cleared a muddy ditch, and stopped on top of a hill. They had only paused for a moment when the ground gave way under Apple Bloom's weight, and she fell straight down.

"APPLE BLOOM!" Cheerilee cried.

Apple Bloom fell for a few seconds, before landing on top of something cold and metallic. A few seconds after she had stopped falling, there was a loud coughing noise.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked, grumpily, and clearly annoyed he had been woken from his sleep. "Are you a vandal? Cheerilee says vandals break in and smash things."

It was a voice that Cheerilee would have recognised from miles away. "Duke!" she cried. "Everybody, we've found him! We've found our Sleeping Beauty!"

"I take it you found me quite by accident," Duke grumbled. "It's only natural; I thought nobody was ever going to come and get me out."

"Stuart and Falcon miss ya terribly," Pear said, having scrambled up the hill and dropped in. "They live on a nearby railway now, and want to see ya."

"They did remember," Duke sighed. "Well, the sooner I'm out of this shed the better. Did you find Stanley anywhere?"

"He was stuck under a mound of Earth," Scootaloo answered. "We'll need a crane to lift him out."

"Hopefully he's learned sense," Duke muttered.



A few hours later, Duke was loaded onto a lorry and driven to Crovan's Gate works, where he was repaired, and Cheerilee got him up to date on all that was happening on the Island (as a lot had changed since the 1990s). After he was fixed, he was taken to the Skarloey Railway and lowered onto the rails.

Just then, Sir Handel and Peter Sam arrived. "Who's the new arrival?" asked Peter Sam.

"There's a new engine?" Silverstream asked. "YAY! I love meeting new people!"

"Shhh!" Sir Handel hissed. "You'll wake Grandpuff up!"

Just then, Duke opened his eyes. "Stuart?" he asked. "Falcon? I've missed you two."

"Is this the engine you've been speaking of?" asked Gallus.

"Yes, I am," Duke answered. "And I am quite annoyed that you two woke me up. When I was a younger engine, engines were-"

"Seen and not heard, we know," Peter Sam replied. "Thing is, we're not Stuart and Falcon anymore. I'm Peter Sam, and he's Sir Handel."

"I'll never get used to that," Duke grunted.

"Besides, we can keep you in order now," Sir Handel joked.

"Keep me in order?" Duke laughed. "Be off with you, you impertinent scallywags!" But he knew they were only joking, and as his eyes twinkled for the first time in years, he looked forward to working again alongside his driver, Cheerilee.
> Ghost Train
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was black, dark, cold sky, lit only by the light of the moon that hung over the scene like a ghost. In the distance, an owl howled,  and creepy music played in the background as the scene unfolded before them. And in that moment, an object, coloured completely white, rolled across the bridge in the scene, whistling loudly.

"And every night on the date of the accident, it runs again, as a warning to others; plunging into the gap, shrieking like a lost soul!"





"Percy, what the Trevithick are you talking about?" Thomas asked his friend, as they sat there in the quarry. Work had run long, and some shipments still needed to be moved in order for them to be ready the next day. To pass the time, they had started telling scary stories, and Percy had contributed his entry.

"The ghost train, of course!" Percy replied. "Pinkie Pie says she saw it last night!"

"Where?" asked Thomas.

"And when?" added Toby

"She wouldn't say. Ooh, it makes my wheels wobble to think about it!"

Twilight sighed. "I wouldn't take all of what Pinkie says completely seriously. Besides, if there was a ghost train on the island I'm pretty certain I'd have come across it in my research of Sodor."

"And I think you're just silly!" said Thomas. "I wouldn't be scared of a potentially nonexisant ghost train." And he set off into the night.

Moments later, Pinkie arrived, random as ever.

"Thomas didn't believe in the ghost you told me about," Percy said to her.

Pinkie laughed. "Neither did I, silly! That ghost only exists on television!" Then her face went extra serious. "Though if there was a ghost train around here, I would know exactly what to do!"

"Namely?" Flash asked.

"Laugh at it, of course!"

Toby sighed. "Pinkie, you are so random."



That evening, Percy and Pinkie set off down Thomas' branch line back towards Knapford. Although it was dark, and the land was clouded in fog, Percy knew exactly where he was, having run this line many times during his working career on Sodor.

An old windmill suddenly loomed out of the distance. "Cole's Farm Crossing!" Pinkie called. "We're nearly home!"

Percy liked running at night. The rails hummed as he liked them, and the signal lights shone green in front of him as he passed them. There was no traffic coming the other way, so he could run through them without a care in the world. Unfortunately, a load of lime was spilled onto the track, on a cart that had fallen apart whilst it was being towed. The farmer had gone to get help, but the signalman had not been alerted, and Percy barelled straight into the cart, crushing it under his wheels. Lime flew upwards, up up and up into the air, and fell back down upon Percy, who was covered from smokebox to rear coupling in the stuff. He was, thankfully, undamaged, and ran quickly to the next signal box to alert the signalman to what had happened.

Toby was waiting there. "What happened?" Flash asked Pinkie.

"Well, this farmer for some reason towed a cart of lime at night that broke and he went off and abandoned it and didn't tell the signalman so we crashed into it and BOOM we got covered in the stuff and ran here to tell you now!"

"I wish I hadn't asked."

Meanwhile, the signalman came out to greet them. "I'll see to it the line is closed until the mess is cleared," he said, with a smile. But you'd better clean Percy, or else people will think he's a ghost!"

Percy smiled. "Let's make Thomas and Twilight think I'm a ghost! It'll teach Thomas for calling me silly, and it is Halloween after all."

"I'll help," said Toby. "Thomas is a bit big for his wheels at the moment." He and Flash set off for the shed at Knapford, where Thomas was being prepped by Twilight for the early morning run. Toby burst into the shed in a state of shock. "Thomas, Twilight, Pinkie and Perky- no, I mean Pinkie and Percy have had an accident!"

"Poor engine," said Thomas, not completely listening to what was being said. "Bother! I'll be late, then."

"They've cleared the line for you, but there's something worse!"

"I can back Toby up, I saw it too," Flash hastily added.

"Well?" Thomas asked. "Out with it. Twilight and I cannot wait all evening."

"I saw something. It looked like Percy's ghost! It said it was coming here to warn us!"

"Was there any sign of Pinkie Pie?" Twilight asked, concerned.

"Huh," Thomas sighed. "I don't believe in ghosts. Stay here Toby, and I'll protect you."



A few minutes later, a sound came that caused Twilight's blood to run cold.

A lonesome whistle echoed outside the shed.

"Peep, peep, peep. Peep, peep, pipeep! Let me in! Let me in!" said a spooky disembodied voice.

"Is it that Shadow guy again?" Flash asked. "Because I sincerely hope it isn't."

Pinkie suddenly teleported into the room, in a panic. "DON'T LET THE GHOST IN!"

Twilight jumped onto Thomas' footplate whilst Toby bravely spoke up. "No, you ghost. Not by the smoke of my chimney chin chin!"

The voice paused. "THEN I'LL CHUFF, AND I'LL PUFF, AND I'LL BREAK YOUR DOOR IN!"

Just then, the door began to creep open as something pushed against it. Pinkie stood in the door.

"Pinkie, what are you doing?" Twilight called, having gone white with fear and shaking. "RUN!"

"Good Heavens!" Thomas cried. "Look at the time, it's getting late. I must find Annie and Clarabel!" And he sped off without another word.



It was morning when they got back. Toby smiled. "Where have you been?"

"Ah, well," said Thomas, "I knew that you'd be sad about Percy and that you'd need some time to yourself, and on top of that I was working the first train of the day. So, I chose to sleep in the carriage shed so I could get coupled up very quickly indeed."

Suddenly, the ominous whistle sounded through the yard again.

"Aaaagh!" Twilight cried. "Not again!"

"Oh!" Thomas cried suddenly. "I can't stop, I must see a coach about a train!" And he suddenly sped off without another word.

Percy, to whom the ominous whistle belonged, smiled, as he was enjoying himself greatly. He had heard everything, and Pinkie was chortling on his footplate as he came to a stop.

"Well," said Percy. "What was that all about?

Toby smiled. "Anybody would think," he said, "that Thomas and Twilight had just seen a ghost!"

"Silly!" Pinkie smiled. "They should have just... 'giggled at the ghostie'!"

And the two engines and their drivers had a good laugh about it.
> Woolly Bear
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the height of summer, the grass on the lineside grows long and wavy, and becomes a danger to passing trains and people. So, the gangers cut the grass back and pile it into large bales so it can dry in the sun. Then, Percy comes by to pick ot up. The men load the bales into his trucks, and Percy takes the loads onwards to Ffarquhar. Toby will then take them for the final leg of their journey, to the farmers who live in the hills beyond Ffarquhar, so they can feed their livestock to get them through the autumn and winter.

"WHEEEEEEESH!" Percy whistled as he rolled into the yard, with Thomas looking forward and seemingly a bit annoyed.

"SHEEEEEEEEEW!" Pinkie added, laughing as they came to a stop.

"Gyaaaah!" Twilight cried, still a little spooked by those sounds. "Pinkie, I asked you to stop doing that!"

"Don't worry, Thomas, it's only me," Percy smiled.

"You needn't whistle in a silly way," Thomas snorted. "Your face is ugly enough to frighten anybody, I'll wager. Why, you're-"

"Ugly indeed?" Percy asked indignantly. "I'm-"

"A green caterpillar with red stripes!" Thomas finished. "And you crawl like one too."

"Is is somebody's birthday?" Pinkie asked.

"It will be somewhere in the world," Twilight answered.

"Who's been late every afternoon this week?" Thomas asked Percy. "Oh wait, you."

"It's the hay!" Percy explained. "It takes time to load and is hard to transport."

"Well, maybe you could say 'hay there' to those farmers and tell them to speed up!" Thomas snapped. "Besides, time's time, and Sir Toppham Hatt is relying on us to keep it. In this uncertain world, we must retain traffic by any means neccessary, and we can't do that if we're constantly running behind timetable because you want to roll in the hay. Goodbye!"

Percy looked furious. "Green caterpillar with red stripes?" he asked. "No I don't!"



As he journeyed to the harbour, he and Pinkie spoke for a bit. "You don't think I'm ugly, do you?" Percy asked Pinkie.

"Of course not, Percy!" Pinkie smiled. "You're a well proportioned saddle tank engine, and besides Thomas looks like a blue box!"

"Yeah!" Percy laughed. "Saddle tanks over side tanks any day! Besides, I'm never THAT late. If I am, it's only by a few minutes. And why should Thomas care? He can always catch up the lost time later on."

Even so, he and Pinkie decided to start back to Ffarquhar early, in order to ensure they were on time. But then came trouble. As Percy backed into the harbour, a crate of treacle was being moved by a crane. Then, the chains holding the crate in place snapped, and the crate of treacle fell onto Percy.

"MY PAINT!" Percy cried.

Pinkie, on the other hand, did her best to supress a chortle, and went off to grab a rag to clean the mess off. "This new treacle colour combined with green is quite interesting. I must try it on a cake!"

Percy did look like a cake, and he was still sticky when he set off back for the end of the line. The wind blew fiercely, and it was throwing the piled hay all over the place, throwing it high into the air and blowing it about with impunity. The line began to climb fiercely, and Percy struggled onwards through the poor weather. Unfortunately, the hay was wet, and had been reduced to a sticky mess on the track. Percy would constantly slide to a standstill on the gradient, and would spin furiously in place for several minutes. He would need to stop before he could start again a few minutes later, as the line needed to be cleared of hay first. Although Pinkie's randomness and ability to teleport for no obvious reason helped in that regard.

At the other end of the line, the passengers stood annoyed, and checked their watches in frustration. Twilight was nervous that they had failed to get off on time, and Thomas was annoyed. "Ten minutes late!" he said. "What is this, Northern rail? I did warn him about the importance of getting off on time and-"

"He's here!" called Twilight, whose look of concern had changed to one of one of amusement. Everybody began laughing at him, for Percy was absolutely covered in hay that was glued to his saddle tank by the treacle.

"Sorry I'm late!" Percy called. "The line was bad, and I did set off early!"

"Well, look what's crawled out of the hay," Thomas snorted.

"What's wrong?" asked Percy, who was unaware of what had happened to his paintwork.

"Well," Thomas said, "talk about hairy caterpillars. As annoyed as I am at being late, it was worth it to just see you."

Twilight went over to Pinkie. "You'll need some high pressure water, and I'd suggest doing some research into the plaster like qualities of treacle."

"OK!" Pinkie replied. "I might even make a treacle tart with it!"



Percy rolled slowly back to the shed, completely unaware of how completely ridiculous he looked. When he got back to the shed, Pinkie vanished, and went and grabbed a mirror so Percy could see how ridiculous he looked.

Percy gasped. "Well, bust my buffers, no wonder they all laughed. I look ridiculous, like a woolly bear. Please do clean me off before anybody else sees it!"

But it was no good, as Thomas and Twilight had already told Toby and Flash, and they were already on their way to the shed. As Pinkie was pulling the hay off of Percy, the two other engines made jokes about wolly green bear caterpillars, and other creatures that crawl about in the hay. Similarly, Twilight and Flash had a long and animated discussion about how to make an improved treacle tart, and maybe have a topping that vaguely resembles hay as an added bonus.

Percy, of course, did not think they were funny at all, and merely though they were being very silly. He planned to pay them out, but that's another story.
> Mavis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mavis is a diesel engine who works for the Ffarquhar Quarry company. She is a British Railways Class 04 diesel, with six wheels and a long bonnet under which her engine sits. She has her face mounted over the front radiator grill, and a tall cab in which her driver can stand protected from the elements. Her wheels are covered by sideplates, and her front and rear bufferbeams have cowcatchers fitted, giving her a somewhat similar sillhouette to Toby, if viewed through distorted lenses with a broken projector.

Her driver is a young girl, though for long time readers of this series that should hardly come as a surprise. She has pink skin and purple hair, interwoven with white streaks, and a pair of light blue eyes. A small tiara sits on the hair just above her ear, and she has purple earrings. Most days, she wears a black V neck shirt, a yellow long sleeved jacket that looks like it escaped from a glam group from the 1980s, a grey skirt, black cycle shorts underneath them (don't ask why, I have really no idea why), and a pair of yellow boots with black straps on the bottom (inlayed with more of the purple gems), and white heels and boot tops. Her name is Danielle Thompson, but is usually called Diamond Tiara after the object in her hair, and she is the daughter of Filthy Rich, or the driver of BoCo.

Both of them are young, and have their own ideas of how to do things. They would constantly rearrange the trucks, and move them in such a way as to confuse everybody. Not only that, it meant that Toby's trucks would end up in places far away from where he had left them, and this annoyed him greatly.

"Trucks," he said, "should be where you want them, when you want them. That's final!"

"Right," Mavis replied. "It's not as if you can't go and get them anyways."

Toby lost his patience. "I can't be bothered to play hunt the trucks with you nowadays," he snapped. "Take them yourself!"

Flash rolled his eyes. "You'd think kids would listen to the experienced ones, but apparently not."

Diamond Tiara laughed. "Sometimes new ideas are good."

"And sometimes new ideas just leave everything in an even bigger mess than they were before," Toby replied, as he steamed off.



A few days later, at the station where the main line joined the branch, Mavis sat there fuming when James came to a stop nearby. "Hello Mavis!" he said. "How are you today?"

"Toby is always complaining and says I cannot handle trucks!" Mavis replied. "I can, and I intend to prove it."

Rarity smiled. "Darlings, you can always achieve something as long as you put your mind to it and are sensible. And I must say Diamond, your fashion sense is simply dazzling."

"One of the benefits of having the wealthiest man on Sodor as my father," the girl replied, her face flush with pride.

"I once put my mind to getting rid of a diesel that was in our yard," James continued, "and I send him packing."

Mavis was interested in this, but didn't know that James was lying. It was Sir Toppham Hatt who had seen off the diesel, not James, and this was to cause trouble later on.



After the Ffarquhar quarry limits are left, the line runs across a local road, and then dips down into a very steep drop, before rising again to the normal level of track for the rest of the run. This section of track is called 'Discord's Dip', for reasons that will soon become clear apart from the fact that Discord built it. It is hard enough to work in the summer, but in winter it is covered in slush and ice, making it very slippery indeed.

Toby, being older and wiser, always waited before the dip before running into the quarry, as the guard went across and halted the traffic. Then Flash would ease him into the steep grade, using the weight of the trucks to push him down and then up the other side to safety. It is the only safe way to work this stretch of line, and Toby had warned Mavis of this. But Mavis had brushed him off. "I can manage!" she said. "I'm not an old fusspot like you!"

That day, the trucks were silly and tired after a long day at work, and were being noisy. Mavis rolled into the drop, up the other side, and then stopped in front of the crossing. The guard got out to halt the traffic, and Terence rolled to a stop as he saw Mavis positioned on the climb.

"You might want to get the chain out, Big Mac," he said. "We might have a tow to do."

"Eeyup."

The guard waved. "Alright Diamond, bring her over!"

Diamond smirked in the cab. "I love being right. I can stick this one right in Apple Bloom's face!"

Mavis was jubilant too. "That's one in the headlamp for old fusspot Toby!" she exclaimed, and began to move forward. Then stopped. She had stopped in the middle of the dip, and as a result the weight of the trucks held her in place and meant she could not moved. Her wheels spun and her engine roared as she tried to get them moving. "RRRagh! Move, you stupid things!"

Diamond covered the track with sand to try and improve grip, but it was no use, and Mavis just continued so slide helplessly on the hill. "Couldn't we just leave these here and come back for them?" Diamond suggested.

"And block the line? Never. Toby would always use that against me."

Big Mac sighed. "Ah think gettin' this mess cleared and movin' those trucks is more important than scorin' points against one another." He glared at Diamond. "And that's BEFORE	Ah brin' up what ya did ta Apple Bloom."

"What?" Diamond replied. "I only said I though Duck looked like a giant rolling apple!"



Toby sighed when he heard the news. "Well, I warned her," he said. "But she wouldn't listen."

"They're both young, Toby," Flash reminded him. "Besides, the trucks belong to you really. If she's discovered taking them down the line, then we're all in big trouble."

"I supposed we had better help them," Toby sighed, and off they went to the crossing. When they got there, a farmer was bellowing loudly at Mavis.

"I know exactly where to put your trucks!" he boomed. "You diesels are useless and incompetent!"

Diamond was furious. "Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked.

"Some stuck up brat who can't drive an engine to save her life, and only got her job through nepotism?" the farmer replied.

Diamond was shocked. "I'm suing you for slander!"

Toby coughed. "Well Mavis, I thought you could handle trucks without me, but clearly I was mistaken. Oh well, it can't be helped. We'll pull you out."

"Big Mac?" called Flash.

"Yeah?"

"Can you and Terance provide a bit of extra torque?"

"Eeyup!"



Toby was hooked up to Mavis, and Terance was hooked up to Toby. All three engines pulled on the grade as hard as they could. Toby's fire glowed white hot, and Flash began to spread blazing cinders on the track in order to melt the frozen snow. The area sounded to the puffing of a steam tram and the roar of diesel engines, until at last the mess was cleared out and moved.

"I imagine you'll manage now!" Toby smiled, and puffed away into the quarry. Mavis didn't answer, but that evening, she left the trucks and raced back home as fast as she could.
> Toby's Tightrope
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day, Percy and Pinkie came to collect some trucks from Ffarquhar Quarry, to take it down to the main line and to places far away. This was the train the railwaymen called-

OK, we've done that joke to death. As Percy looked around, there was not a soul to be seen, and everything was still covered in a small layer of snow and frost, which made it look like a winter wonderland. Snow, snow, snow, snow, diddle diddle didddle diddle diddle diddle da. At the end of one siding, he saw Mavis sitting there, and a man, whom she recognised as Filthy Rich, who managed the Ffarquhar Quarry Company in addition to his running of a supermarket chain, was berating both her and her driver.

"You have both acted in such a way that it has made our company look foolish," he said. "One of my engines and my own daughter, completely failing to follow the instructions that I gave them. Whatever next?"

"How was I to know-"

"I don't care," Filthy Rich replied. "You two are BOTH on your last warning. Mess up again, and I won't think twice about getting another diesel to replace you. They're ten a penny, after all." He then walked off.

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes as he walked off. "He's all talk and little else. He's fortunate that I was willing to do this job, as nobody else would!"

Percy ventured forward. "Cheer up, you two!" he said. "I'm certain he was just angry, and that he didn't mean all of it."

Mavis sighed. "Toby tattle told to him," she replied, "and he says I have no business going out onto the branch line. Toby's just an utter fusspot!"

Percy looked shocked. "Toby has forgotten more about trucks then you shall ever know," he snorted.

"That's a very bold claim," Diamond replied. "I used to work on a miniature railway, you know."

"Toby and Flash know best," Pinkie told her. "You MUST put the trucks where he tells you to put them, or else chaos will result, and we don't want that."

"I do!" said Discord, suddenly appearing from nowhere before vanishing again.

"If you'll excuse us," said Percy, "we must take these trucks to Knapford, so they can be taken and unloaded, and the cargo sent to places far away." And he rolled off without another word.



Mavis soon found a rather obvious problem with the yard in the quarry. The trackwork was tight and short, and the sidings made moving the trucks about extremely difficult without accidentally leaving the yard limits and thereby going on the branch line. This meant endlessly shuffling backwards and forwards, or marshalling the trucks onto the branch line and then shunting them back into the sidings. Mavis then had a bright idea.

"Diamond," she said, "if we were to use a small part of the branch line, we could save a lot of trouble and marshall long trains very quickly indeed. What do you think?"

Diamond put a hand to her chin. "If we only go as far as the crossing, we will technically still be not on the branch line, as the ownership rights of that bit of track are disputed, and thus terra nullius."

"Terra what?"

"It means no man's land. If we do that, we save a lot of time and money! And father always likes it when we save money."

So that is what they did. They would move the trucks to the first level crossing, and then shunt back into the sidings. As the days went by, the weather changed, and the snow began to melt. With the snow melted and proceedings back to normal, the quarry grew busy again. Some of Mavis' trains were so long that she had to go beyond the level crossing in order for all of the trucks to even fit in the yard! Now for her plan, which she had been planning for some time.

"Hello!" she said to the trucks. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure thing!" said the trucks.

"Can you bump me at the level crossing, so that I go a short way onto the branch line?"

"Sounds good to me!" said one of the trucks. "It's not often we get asked to bump an engine. We'll tell nobody."



Mavis went off to shunt some more trucks,but in the meantime Toby came by and chose to shunt the trucks himself. Flash coupled him up, and off they went down the line. The trucks, being in a mischevious mood, chose to bump Toby anyway.

Toby reached the crossing just as his face became lopsided, and this was their chance. Before Flash could apply the brakes, the trucks all slammed into one another. "ON! ON! ON!"

Toby was sliding helplessly down the line with the trucks screaming and jeering behind him. Flash slammed the brakes on, but it did little good, and Toby's wheels locked in place as he skidded down the line. Before them, a stream had been turned by snowmelt into a raging torrent, which had damaged a bridge quite badly. The rails hung over the thundering water like a tightrope, and Toby skidded towards it helplessly.

"STOP! STOP!" Toby cried, as Flash moved the brakes to the emergency setting to try and get the heavy load to slow down. They got closer and closer to the broken bridge, but they stopped at last... right over the rails suspended of the yawning abyss below them.

"Don't look down, Toby," Flash said. "I'm going to try and back us up to level ground."

Suddenly, a diesel horn echoed from the distance, and there approaching in the distance was Mavis, her engine roaring as she came to a stop. Toby was secured with chains whilst Mavis pulled the trucks away, and then Mavis was moved forward to free Toby. With a hard tug, she pulled him to safety.

"Sorry about those trucks," the diesel said apologetically. "I don't know how you managed to stop them."

"Flash told me all about circus performers who walked on tightropes," Toby replied, "but I hardly fancy it myself."

Later that day, Filthy Rich came by to commend Diamond and Mavis for their bravery. "A fine piece of work!" he proclaimed. "Mavis, the restriction on you accessing the branch line is lifted, and Diamond, I hereby raise your salary."

Toby, Mavis, Flash and Diamond are all now good friends, and work together to help one another on hard days. Mavis has even done a few passenger turns, and everybody thinks she is very useful indeed.
> Credits
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



CAST-IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

Keith Whickam-Gordon, Henry, Edward, the coaches, the station master, Sir Toppham Hatt, the Guard, the Trucks, Jeremiah Jobling, Bertie, Mr Dalby, goods train driver, the policeman, workman 1, Skarloey, Mr Percival, Sir Handel, Harold, J94, Royal Scot, Cricketers, Class 40, Culdee's 1899 driver, Mr Richards, BoCo, Arlesdale foreman, Bert, Willie, S. C. Ruffey
Bill Newton-Bright Mac, yard manager at Tidmouth, Tidmouth signalman, crowd of passengers, the butler, workman 2, City of Truro, the engine inspector, the Spiteful Brakevan, Umpire, the narrow gauge inspector, Devil's Back station master, Snap Shutter
Ashleigh Ball-Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Lyra, Upper Crust
Andrea Libman-Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Valley Glamour, Catherine, Coach pushed by Lord Harry
John Hasler-Thomas, Rheneas, Ernest, the Vicar of Wellsworth
Tara Strong-Twilight Sparkle, Twilight Velvet, Sci-Twi, 'Richard',
Tim Whitnall-Crosby signalman, the foreman, goods train fireman and guard, barber, George, Stepney, Wilfred, Mike, D7101
Robert Rackstraw-James, Toby, Donald, Lord Harry/No.6/Patrick, 1865 Director, Mr Awdry, D199
Tabitha St. Germain-Rarity, schoolboy leader, Mrs Kyndley, the narrow gauge coaches, Mrs Cake, Bon-Bon, Caroline
Teresa Gallagher-Annie and Clarabel, Lady Hatt, Stephen & Bridget Hatt, Mavis
Tim Stourton-Terence, Duncan, 1865 worker, Neil, Rex, Mr Boston
Peter New-Big MacIntosh, Jet Set
Cathy Weseluck-Spike, the three boys, schoolboys
Nigel Pilkington-Percy
Maggie Ollerenshaw-Henrietta
Vincent Tong-Flash Sentry, Sandbar
Michelle Creber-Apple Bloom
Felicia Day-Pear Butter
William Shatner-Grand Pear
Devyn Dalton-Ocellus
Gavin Langelo-Gallus
Lauren Jackon-Silverstream
Steven Kynman-Peter Sam, Duck, Jinty
Matt Hill-Soarin'
Trevor Devall-Fancy Pants, Godred
Kerry Shale-Diesel
Shannon Chan-Kent-Silver Spoon, Smoulder, Lemon Zest
Matt Wilkinson-Rusty, Eric
Joe Mills-Douglas, Oliver, Toad
Andrew Francis-Night Light, Shining Armour
Kathleen Barr-Trixie, mum on Mike's train
Tracy Ann-Oberman-Daisy
Sunni Westbrook-Cozy Glow
Katrina Salisbury-Yona
Brian Drummond-Mr Cake, Filthy Rich
Claire Corlett-Sweetie Belle
Johnathan Pryce-Culdee, angry passenger on Mike's train
Britt Irvin-Sunny Flare
Sharon Alexander-Sour Sweet
Sienna Bohn-Sugarcoat
Owain Yeoman-Alaric
Kelly Sheridan-Indigo Zap
Colin Farrell-lead climber
Liam Neeson-Hurricane
Matt Cowlrick-Rockhoof
Chris Britton-Starswirl
Giles Panton-Flash Magnus, guard in truck
Mike Grady-Sir Robert Norramby, 5th Duke of Sodor
Johnathan Broadbent-Bill and Ben
Brynna Drummond-Babs Seed
Laura Drummond-Sunflower Seed
Nicolas Cage-Edward Mallus
Graham Verchere-Pipsqueak
Richard Ian Cox-Featherweight
Alexandra Carter-Twist
Rufus Jones-Flying Scotsman
Kelly Metzger-Spitfire
Iris Quinn-Abacus Cinch
Madeleine Peters-Scootaloo
Emily Tennant-Mane Allgood
Colin MacFarlane-Bulgy
Maryke Hendrykkse-Gilda
Aneirin Hughes-Duke
Nicole Oliver-Cheerilee
Chantal Strand-Diamond Tiara

A big thank you to all of my readers. I couldn't have done this without any of you.

Thomas and his Friends will return in... Thomas, Twilight, and the Magic Railway!
> Reference image for Skarloey railway
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------