A/N: Ok, everyone, I just want to say thank you so much on reviewing Tale of Callathain, Tempest of the Lake… and of course, this rewrite! I'm glad you're all enjoying these updates, and I'm having fun putting them together… and I'm much happier with this rewrite so far…
But seriously, thank you all for your love, your support and your dedication and loyalty! I appreciate it!
P.S. I may consider chronicling Duncan's adventures on the Talyllyn Railway, if I find time. 😊 I love the idea of including them in Thomas and Friends. Meantime, stay tuned and enjoy the update!
Skarloey's eyes glowered at the two quivering engines. "Why did you two take Luke out of the quarry?" He demanded, his voice in a low hiss.
The two engines looked at one another in fear. It was scary enough seeing Skarloey so angry…. But knowing that they made him angry was most certainly the biggest mistake they could ever have made!
And Duke had plenty of anecdotes from when they angered him back on the MSR.
Rusty, Duncan, Owen and Merrick watched, wide eyed and in shock from how quickly this drama was as Skarloey continued his tirade.
"That was extremely irresponsible, idiotic, reckless, foolish, pointless and just downright dangerous of you both consider such a thing." Skarloey said sternly, his volume increasing octaves as he continued his scolding. "Whose idea was it to do such an act?" he asked.
"It...it was my fault, Skarloey." Sir Handel uttered quietly. "I was the one who came up with the idea, and I persuaded Luke to come with me."
"What about Peter Sam?" Skarloey asked, casting the Kerr Stuart Tattoo a steely gaze which made poor Peter Sam wish the ground beneath him would open and swallow him whole.
"He came so we wouldn't get into trouble, and he was the one who insisted on us going back." The blue engine replied, feeling sympathy astir in his boiler on glancing at his brother. Peter Sam looked like a wounded and dejected puppy who wished he wasn't being yelled at right now.
He really wished his brother would stop that. Seeing that look always made him feel ten times worse; especially with the plight they had gotten themselves into.
He watched nervously as the old engine took a few deep breaths in order to allow himself to calm down on hearing this.
"I see. So what happened?" Skarloey inquired, his attention back on Sir Handel again. Sir Handel had no choice but to explain what plans he had concocted in his funnel; and then, taking it in turns between them, the two disgraced engines recounted: their journey to the site of the former Mid Sodor Railway: what they told Luke of their past growing up under Duke's teachings; the story of Smudger's woeful downfall, and how they decided to leave quickly before they got caught.
However, Sir Handel did not mention the gunshot to Skarloey. When Peter Sam made to do so, Sir Handel merely sent him a deathly glare, warning him that they were in enough trouble with their normally benevolent leader for sneaking Luke out and trespassing on abandoned property- the last thing he needed to hear was how they had been shot at- and how the shot almost hit Sir Handel in the face.
Peter Sam was quick to catch on to the wisdom of this omission and kept mum. After all, if Skarloey did find out about the gunshot, he would be shouting at the guilty pair so loudly he'd put the gelignite in the quarry to shame.
By the end of their explanation, the two engines felt very ashamed of themselves for what they did – despite the fact it was mainly Sir Handel's fault, for suggesting they go out in the first place. They also felt guilty that they were keeping a secret- a huge one at that- hidden from him and the other engines.
"We're sorry Skarloey," They chorused, contrition apparent in their tone, "We won't ever do it again."
"Yeah," Added Sir Handel. "Luke's safety is way more important."
"Good," Said Skarloey, firmly. "Now please be careful in future, okay? Luke is relying on us to keep his existence a secret from the Island."
They agreed.
"We forgive you," he added, his tone softening a fraction. "We just don't you two or Luke getting hurt, okay? Just… try to keep out of trouble, will you?"
"Will do!" They peeped, feeling a bit better and relieved to finally get the lecture over with. So, with that understanding established, Skarloey sent them away.
"Twmffats," Muttered Rheneas, watching their friends heading off to do their work.
"Rheneas!" Exclaimed Skarloey in shock. "Whatever's gotten into you, boyo?"
"Well, that was on them, Skarloey. They committed it, they earned it." His brother replied nonchalantly. Skarloey could imagine Rheneas would have shrugged too, if he had the physical capacity to do so.
"Hm, you have a point, Gallant Old Engine," he murmured, "but still, that's really no way for an engine of such wise years as yourself to talk. Wherever did you manage to spruce up your Welsh?"
"Why, when I was getting repaired with Dolgoch, of course! He and I were in each other's company for the approximation of a decade."
"When I next see Talyllyn, I must ask him why he hasn't kept Dolgoch in order; and allowed him to lead our other little brother astray," he said, finally quirking a smile in Rheneas's direction.
"Ha, ha," muttered Rheneas semi-sarcastically, but he couldn't hide the inevitable soft chuckle.
...
Meanwhile, Luke saw dark clouds gathering above the mountain peaks, and began bubbling with excitement at the realisation. "Mr. Heron, Mr. Wilson, it's going to snow again!"
"Looks like it, old boy." His driver replied, patting his engine's buffer affectionately. "It's certainly been quite dramatic since we first got here, eh, Rich?"
"Aye," Agreed Richard, sardonically.
Luke just watched his condensed breath flutter out of the tunnel, like steam from his funnel. He loved that. He also loved feeling the cold snow between his wheels.
However, Luke had also been thinking about Smudger's story, and of the tragic figure it concerned. After he had gotten over the spooked feeling of imagining him as a sinister figure, the little Irish engine had wondered if Smudger was still alive… and if so, if he ever regretted what he did, and longed for a second chance; a chance to be free from a prison of guilt and remorse.
"What's wrong, Luke?" His driver asked. "You've suddenly gone quiet."
"Yeah- you okay, little buddy?" Asked Richard in concern.
"I don't know," His engine replied, looking back towards his cab, before once more gazing out of the tunnel mouth. "I've been thinking." He continued, thoughtfully.
"What about?" Geoffrey asked inquisitively, his hand gently rubbing his friend's buffer supportively.
"Do you think everyone deserves a second chance?" Luke asked his driver and fireman, quite seriously.
The two men exchanged worried glances with one another, before Geoffrey answered, reassuringly. "Well, yes, if they can show they're rightfully sorry and are willing to learn from their mistake, but also let go of the past and move on. Why do you ask?"
The two friends had just assumed Luke was questioning his conscience again, from a philosophical standpoint; when his next sentence surprised them both.
"I was just...no, that's silly. Peter Sam and Sir Handel will think I've gone nuts..." the little engine muttered.
"Luke..."
"Alright. I was thinking about Smudger."
"What about Smudger?" Was all he asked, but Luke was ready with an answer.
"Okay, so, Sir Handel told me that Smudger was turned into a generator for behaving horribly and not doing as he was told- as well as being reckless and causing accidents, right?" Luke reminded them.
"Yes..."
"So what if I went to see Smudger and talked to him?" Luke asked hopefully. Geoffrey froze a moment. He knew his engine to be a sweet and innocent soul, but even he hadn't expected this. He wondered if something hit Luke that night on the Sodor and Midland Railway.
It probably had.
"I don't know, Luke. He'll have disintegrated by now." Richard told him bluntly, before Geoffrey could answer. Luke gasped in shock and horror at the response.
"Rich, shush!" Geoffrey ordered.
"What?"
Luke was quick to zone out of their argument and stared sadly out of the tunnel. He thought about Smudger, and of how his reckless actions had cost him his freedom and ability to move. He felt that only if he could see this engine for himself, then perhaps, he could finally find someone to say, 'me too.' directly to his face.
Only, why had he been so frightened by him the night before?
How had he failed to realise that he and Smudger had both done things they were ashamed of, and had been eternally locked into metaphorical prisons of remorse and suffering?
...
That cold Christmas afternoon, it was Peter Sam who had to explain to a heartbroken green tank engine that they were going back to the Skarloey Railway for the New Year.
"We're really sorry, Luke. If we could, we'd bring you back to celebrate with us." Peter Sam said sadly.
"It's okay. I'll still have Owen and Merrick to talk to." He replied.
However, it was this conversation that gave Luke an idea; which he needed to undertake himself, as none of his friends could understand the rawest, deepest depths of guilt that was currently churning in his smokebox.
He needed to find a way to restore peace.
...
Shortly afterwards, after the other engines said their goodbyes and gone home, Luke decided to retire early. Owen and Merrick knew he was lonely and broken-hearted, and though they did their best to be kind to him, he didn't perk up, leaving them worried.
But as Luke settled down and closed his eyes, he saw a strange glow. It looked like a candle. A voice, as soft as silk, called out, "Luke...Luke..."
Try as he might, the little green engine soon found himself going forwards very slowly, heading for the light. And, ahead of him was a glowing female figure, who was holding a candle.
"Who are you?" Asked Luke in amazement.
"I'm Melissa," Announced the ghost. "And I'm here to help you on your journey."
What journey?" He asked.
She didn't say anything, but only clapped her hands. In response, Luke's wheels began whirring and he found himself puffing along out of the quarry past his slumbering friends, and down into a line of total darkness. He could only see trees around him, and hear strange noises. Then, he stopped again. He found himself back on the Sodor Midland Railway, standing outside the old shed where his ancient cousin used to sleep in his youth – now overgrown and ruined.
"He waits for you, Luke." Melissa told him. "He needs a friend. More importantly, he needs you..."
'Hello, is somebody there?'
Luke tried to answer back, but he found himself unable to speak.
'save me...'
...
Luke awoke with a startled gasp; feeling the winter sunshine stir him; though it was still very cold. He emerged sleepily from the tunnel, feeling glad for the warmth in his firebox.
"Hello, Luke!" Owen called warmly, as Luke puffed out of the tunnel with a yawn and a blast of his whistle.
"Morning, Owen!" Luke chuffed in response.
"Morning? Oh no, Luke, it's two o' clock!"
"Is it?" The little engine asked in surprise.
"Yes, but I don't blame you. It was hailstones this morning, and most of the night n- it's preposterous!"
"I'm sorry to hear that, Owen. Are you alright?" Luke asked him.
Owen chuckled fondly in response; the little engine's compassion was almost saint like in nature. It was just a pity he was stuck with endless guilt. "I'm fine, Luke." He replied breezily. "Merrick of course slept through it last night and this morning."
"He sleeps through a lot of things." Luke noted.
"Yes, well, that's Merrick for you. He means well, yet he's as dozy as a cat in sunshine." The two looked over at the sleeping- and snoring- crane, and they both chuckled.
"So, seeing as we're the only ones here, what do you propose we do for Christmas?" Owen asked.
This question caught Luke off guard completely.
"Pardon?"
"Well, we could do something small this Christmas, seeing as we can't join the others. It's a shame, really- I imagine it'd be a lot of fun." Owen mused.
"Yes..." Luke sighed wistfully.
"Well, seeing as you're from Ireland, what do you do for Christmas?" Owen suggested. He didn't know much about Ireland, and he hoped Luke could teach him something new.
"Um, a few things, but I'm not sure if we could manage one."
Owen glanced over at Luke. "Are you sure?" He asked teasingly.
Luke pouted.
"Well, I guess I'll teach you how to say 'Merry Christmas' in Irish," He suggested.
"A capital idea, young Luke! I like your thinking!" Owen boomed.
"Very well then. It's 'Nollaig Shona Duit'."
"Okay. Nole...Nola...Nullige Shorna Date."
"Nope!" Luke answered. He couldn't help but smile at Owen's attempts to speak his home tongue. "It's pronounced 'null-ig hun-a dit'."
"Null-ig hun-a dit." Owen copied, putting emphasis on each syllable in order to ensure he got the pronunciation correct. It wasn't easy!
"See? It's not that hard to learn Irish!" Luke called. "An-mhaith!"
"Aw, not more Irish to learn Luke!" Owen groaned.
"Relax Owen! I'm just saying well done!" His friend laughed.
"Oh, well thanks little friend!"
"You're welcome." Luke replied, before trailing into silence. Even from the other side of the quarry, Owen could see that his dear friend had a look of concentration on his face, as if he was thinking of something important.
"A penny for your thoughts?" the incline engine asked casually, hoping his concern didn't shine through in his tone, as he had no intention of scaring Luke off.
Luke suddenly blinked and looked up at Owen. "Pardon?" He inquired politely; which indicated he had been so lost in thought he hadn't heard him.
Owen repeated himself, which made Luke sigh in response. "The truth is, Owen, I've been in a weird mood since Peter Sam, Sir Handel and I went to the Sodor Midland Railway."
"How come?" Asked his companion curiously.
"Well, while we were there, Sir Handel told me a story about an engine, whose name was Smudger, and he constantly derailed and was rude and disrespectful to other engines and figures of authority… and he was punished by being turned into a generator."
"I think that's barbaric." Owen muttered. "If this quarry ran on power generated by an engine, I wouldn't move my platforms."
"I know you wouldn't," Smiled Luke. "But the point is, since Sir Handel told me that story, I've been feeling uneasy about staying here and going unpunished. I'd rather stay here and keep quiet, but I... I just wish my guilt would be easier to live with."
The massive incline machine felt his heart break. He could plainly see that, deep down, poor Luke was still suffering.
"The one thing that bothers me when I'm sick, sad or lonely is that engine," Luke continued. He was surprised to realise that he had never admitted how he felt about the yellow engine's untimely demise. The other engines knew what had happened, but they didn't like talking about it unless Luke himself brought it up, He was both grateful and mad about it, and that made him feel guilty for being mad, and he wished he would stop feeling so guilty all the time.
"I just wish I... hadn't done what I did, or at the very least was able to say sorry to him for what I did," He continued, his voice shaking dangerously. "He had a job to do on Sodor, and he had a reason to be here. So did I, but the both of us lost it on that...that day. Why him? It should have been me. I'm responsible for this, so send me to the scrapyards..."
"Luke stop!" Owen gasped, not wishing to hear another word of death, or pain, or suffering, pass the lips of his best friend. He wanted desperately to take away the pain; but he didn't know how he could do that.
How could a sweet, innocent engine like Luke wish a violent death upon himself?
He wanted to cry; and it felt like he would cry, too.
"Luke, that sort of thinking wouldn't do you any good." His driver said sympathetically, wiping away Luke's tears.
Geoffrey and Richard hovered round their beloved engine like sympathetic hens; whilst Owen watched from his mountain perch.
What could he do?
