HARDENED FROST
Written by Zack Wanzer and Rachel Ravens
Set during series 19
Whenever the snow became too thick in wintertime, Donald and Douglas were often called in to clear it away from the tracks.
"Let's see how lang it wull tak' us tae clear th' snaw this time, Douggie," grinned Donald.
"Hae ye bin keepin' track as tae how lang that takes?" joked Douglas.
"Mibbie a wee bit," chuckled Donald as they were coupled to the van and were given the all clear. "C'moan."
The twins headed off to clear the tracks. They did well for the first couple of miles, laughing as they charged some of the smaller drifts, but unfortunately for the twins, they came to a red signal where Spencer was also waiting.
"Och, that's juist peachy," muttered Donald as he and Douglas came to a stop alongside the streamlined silver engine.
"Wha is it, Donnie?"
"Spencer…"
"Well, look what the snowstorm dropped in," Spencer scoffed. "Did you two happen to leave your train behind besides that van?"
"Nothin' lik' that!" snapped Donald. "We need this van tae carry th' workmen in while we're clearing snaw."
"And so it takes two engines to manage one van?"
"Ainlie if yin o' us wur tae git stuck," insisted Douglas. "Besides, ye often juist tow aroond yin coach. Tis lik' takin' a mallat tae crack open a peanut."
Donald laughed at his twin's remark.
"I've taken up to three coaches whenever I come here," argued Spencer. "Besides, we all have snowplows ourselves, and we can handle things just fine without you two spending time away from your goods work."
"Och, sae you'd rather dae it then?" asked Donald innocently. This time, Douglas laughed at Donald's remark.
"The very idea!" groaned Spencer; by this point, Henry had gone past on the middle track with his train. "I wouldn't be able to do half of it, anyway; I'm too heavy for branch lines."
"Juist a thought," said Douglas as the signals clunked down. He and Donald soon departed to continue clearing the tracks.
"Much o' th' mainland gets snaw," sighed Donald. "You'd think he'd appreciate engines clearing th' tracks."
"Ah git th' feeling he's ne'er grateful fur ony sort o' assistance," Douglas replied as they got ready to charge another drift.
Later that day, Spencer was waiting for the Duke and Duchess of Boxford to finish talking with Sir Robert Norramby, the Earl of Sodor; they were discussing potential plans for a get together on Christmas for a celebration.
"This year," the Earl was saying, "I was thinking we should get a massive Christmas tree so that everyone can contribute a couple of ornaments for it."
"That sounds lovely," smiled the Duchess. "Oh, I remember when I was a little girl and would help my sister and parents with our Christmas tree every year."
"I too have fond memories of doing that when I was little," agreed the Duke.
"Sounds like a grand plan to me," smiled Millie as she puffed in. "Ah, bonjour, Spencer. Enjoying ze snow?"
"Not with a certain pair of engines slacking off on their normal duties," grunted Spencer.
"You mean Dennis and Fred?" asked Millie. "I remember her trying to back out of taking ze weedkiller tanker a few months ago… "
"I was referring to those twins, Donald and Douglas," retorted Spencer. "Wasting everyone's time by clearing snow for the other engines when they should be out on their normal goods duties! Even hiring them as a personal escort would do little for them."
"I haven't seen too much of ze twins, but from what I've been told, Donald and Douglas work very hard, especially during winter!" cried Millie. "You should be more thankful for zem, constantly volunteering to clear ze tracks of snow. I also hear not many of you tolerate snow that much."
"That's because it's trouble for us, especially for important jobs," sniffed Spencer. "It doesn't surprise me that you little engines have it worse than us big engines."
"At least we are willing to try our best despite zese circumstances," huffed Millie. "We can't help our size, but we do know zat passengers and goods customers rely heavily on us."
Spencer rolled his eyes as the Duke and Duchess came back to their coach. The guard blew the whistle and Spencer began to puff away.
"Sounds like someone's not into ze Christmas spirit," muttered Millie.
However, Spencer had barely reached the castle drawbridge when he began to leak steam.
"Spencer!" cried the Duke in shock. "What's going on?"
"My safety valve," coughed Spencer. "I think I was pushing on too hard over Gordon's hill."
"The snow tends to do that," sighed the Duchess. "We're going to need help here…"
But Spencer wasn't the only engine with a problem; Donald and Douglas had just cleared another section of lines, but when both engines blew their whistles, one of them didn't sound like it should.
"Douggie, ye kin stoap whistling noo," called Donald.
"Uh... actually, Ah cannae," sighed Douglas. "Ah think mah whistle's jammed!"
Quickly, some workmen had arrived to address the problem. One of them climbed up the ladder and swung a hammer at Douglas' whistle, silencing it, but also breaking it in the process.
"Losh sakes," groaned Douglas. "We wur gaun sae weel."
When Sir Topham Hatt received the news, he looked very concerned when addressing the Scottish twins.
"We're expecting a big snowstorm tonight," he said, "and the last thing we needed was one of you out of commission."
"Ah'm very sorry, surr…"
"You've nothing to apologize for, Douglas. A broken whistle could've happened to any engine. But who am I going to send to help Donald while you have your whistle replaced?"
Just then, Sir Topham Hatt and the twins heard another whistle and Emily puffed in with Martha, Julian and Gladys.
"Could I help, sir?" she asked. "I used to work in Scotland myself."
"Hmm…" Sir Topham Hatt pondered for a moment. "Donald, do you agree with the arrangement?"
"Aye, surr," replied the Caledonian engine. "Ah think we'll dae weel th'gither."
"Excellent," smiled Sir Topham Hatt. "Thank you, Emily; I'll arrange for another engine to look after your trains."
It wasn't too long before Douglas was shunted into the Steamworks by Oliver.
"Get better soon, Douglas," said the autotank. "I'll check on you on my next passenger run to Crovan's Gate."
"Ah shan't be 'ere lang," chuckled Douglas. "Juist need mah whistle replaced is all. Loue ye."
"Love you too, Douglas," smiled Oliver as he puffed away.
Douglas could then see that he wasn't alone; he saw Spencer a couple of tracks away from him, looking very sorry for himself.
"Whit happened tae ye?" asked Douglas, surprised to see Spencer like this.
"Burst safety valve," the streamlined engine explained.
"Mah whistle jammed 'n' broke whin a workman stopped th' noise," Douglas sighed.
"Let's hope the workmen didn't get deaf ears while hearing that," Spencer grunted.
"A jammed whistle cannot be helped, Spencer," said Victor. "Though even if you two do get fixed within the next few hours, I don't think you'll be going anywhere until the snowstorm clears."
"Och, Ah wis hoping tae see Oliver while oor evening runs," groaned Douglas.
"Evening runs?" asked Spencer.
"Whin th' post train gets very busy, especially aroond Christmas, Oliver helps oot Percy 'n' Thomas," Douglas explained. "Ah dae th' midnight goods run." The Scottish engine chuckled before continuing. "In fact, th' midnight goods run is how we first met, whin Ah found Oliver 'n' Toad trying tae escape th' cutter's torch."
"Yes, he's mentioned that story a lot," sighed Spencer. "He always gets wistful when he gets to the bit when you show up."
Douglas couldn't help but blush when he heard that. "Ah widnae hae bin able tae dae ony o' that if nae fur Donald," he said quietly. "He is th' best twin Ah cuid ask fur." He then chuckled again. "Though, thare wis yin time whaur Ah wis baith grateful 'n' upset wi' him at th' same time."
"Really?" asked Spencer. "What did he do?"
"Weel…"
Past
It had been a couple of days since Donald and Douglas had been formally purchased for the North Western Railway. Snow was still quite heavy the day after Boxing Day, and the twins were being coupled up to a van with their snowplows fitted.
"I'm glad you're both here to stay," smiled Duck as he shunted some coaches for Gordon's express. "I guess that your little gamble worked like a charm, Donald."
"Gamble?" gasped Douglas. "Whit gamble?"
"Dook!" cried Donald.
"What's going on here?" asked Gordon. "Donald, Duck, do you know something the rest of us don't?"
"Ah, well…" Duck didn't know how to respond to that.
"Ah crashed intae th' signal kist deliberately," sighed Donald.
"What?!" gasped Gordon.
"Donald, o' a' th' hings A've heard, that's by far th' maist ridiculous thing ye'v ever dane!" snapped Douglas. "Why wid ye dae that?"
"And why would you agree to this, Duck?" asked Gordon. "And lie to Sir Topham Hatt by covering it up."
Donald and Duck exchanged a look; both giving heavy sighs.
"Sir Topham Hatt got a call from your former controller, Douglas," Duck explained. "He explicitly mentioned the differences between the two of you by your voices. That was when I realized that you were the stowaway and under the threat of… well…" He paused before continuing, "I was trying to find you before Donald so we could buy you more time, but I found Donald first, and…"
"…that wis whin Ah hud tae tak' action," finished Donald. "Desperate times call fur desperate measures."
"Ye did that... fur me?" Douglas said quietly. He gave a small smile, and Gordon too looked impressed.
"If that's not brotherly love, I don't know what is," the big blue engine said. He quickly went to buffer up to his coaches and Duck went off to get some more for Henry, leaving the twins alone.
"Juist promise me yin thing," said Douglas.
"Whit's that?" asked Donald.
"Dinnae ye scare me lik' that again!"
Present
"Your brother really cares about you to pull a gamble like that," said Spencer in amazement. "But, there's one thing I don't understand; did Sir Topham Hatt ever find this out?"
"Aye," confirmed the Scottish engine. "Bit considering whit we'd gaen thro' back then, he felt lik' he wis th' main cause o' th' problem."
"You and Donald were really lucky to have so many engines concerned for you," Spencer said quietly.
"Something whilk ye didnae ken whin Hiro wis trapped in his siding, fae whit Emily told us," retorted Douglas.
"I know perfectly well what it's like to be unwanted, Douglas!" retorted Spencer.
"Nae surprising, given whit ye did-"
"I meant being sent for scrap!" Douglas was taken aback by Spencer's sudden outburst. Seeing that the Caledonian engine didn't have anything to say in response, the streamlined engine continued. "I used to run express trains on the London and North Eastern Railway, like Gordon. Though… of course, you know the fate of steam engines in that dark point in time."
"Aye, Ah do…"
"Well… here's my own story during those darkest hours."
Past
"Spencer, ol' boy," sighed his driver. "I… have some news."
"What is it, driver? Are we to take some important people to London?"
"No, it's nothing like that, I'm afraid. We've been relegated from express passenger duties."
"Relegated?!" Spencer couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I'm sorry, Spencer," said his driver. "We have a fast goods train to take."
Spencer was not happy about his current situation. He glared angrily as a large green diesel passed by pulling an express passenger, wishing that it was him instead.
"Horrible, ugly things," snarled Spencer. "I can't believe that those Deltics took over my siblings' job. We're supposed to be the pride of the London and North Eastern, but now, look at me! Relegated to a common goods engine!"
"Better get used to it," said a J50 tank engine by the name of Kessie. "I'd honestly take what we're given. It's better than… other options."
"Other options?" asked Spencer.
The tank engine's eyes seemed haunted. "Some of my siblings… they're no longer in service. Some of them have even been taken to bits…"
Spencer would soon find out what Kessie was talking about. One day, during the heavy snowy days of winter, he was taking a goods train with his snowplow, but unfortunately, the trucks had some ideas.
"This engine doesn't treat us with respect," said one.
"He acts like he's the king of the rails," agreed another. "It's disgraceful, that's what it is!"
"Let's pay him out," suggested a third.
Spencer soon started to come to a hill. The heavy snow he plowed through didn't make his journey easy, and now it seemed like he was using every bit of strength he had to go up the hill.
"Goods trains," he grunted. "I deserve my express services back! And on top of it all, I have to plow through all this snow!" He had to puff harder and harder, which made sparks fly from his funnel and he panted when he started to crest the top. Unfortunately, he was puffing so hard and wasn't focused on what he was doing. The guard didn't focus either, and didn't have time to pin the brakes when the streamlined engine and his train started to go down.
"On, on, on!" screamed the trucks as they surged against the streamlined engine.
"What's happening?!" cried Spencer. "Slow down!"
"Your brother went faster than this to break the speed record," chuckled one of the trucks.
"We thought you were the pride of the London and North Eastern!" taunted another.
"Not when I'm pulling you horrid things!" snapped Spencer; the icy rails did nothing to help his situation in the slightest. "Stop this at once!"
Spencer didn't realize he was heading straight for a siding with no buffers. They were due to be replaced, but the workmen were currently on a lunch break. No matter how hard he braked, Spencer could not slow down enough to prevent the inevitable…
CRASH!
"Ouch…" groaned Spencer. "This will take a while to repair me…"
But Spencer would be proven wrong again. After he had been lifted back onto the rails again, he was surprised to find that he was not headed for the works.
"No, no, no, no, no!" he cried. "Anything but that!"
"It's where you belong, you clumsy teapot!" snapped the diesel who had been sent to his rescue. "Serves you right for not wanting to do the work that was asked of you."
Spencer looked around him fearfully. All around him, he could see rusty old engines in varying states of disrepair. Some looked as if they were in mostly good shape, while others looked to be lost causes. But one thing that appeared to be common amongst them was a feeling of a mixture of despair and resentment. Despair that they would likely never run again after years of faithful service, and resentment towards the diesels that had been brought in to replace them.
"I don't want to die…" sobbed an N2 numbered 1014. "What did we do to deserve such a fate?"
"Only the Great Railway knows," sighed a well tank numbered 1842. "Diesels are nothing but trouble!"
"You speak the truth there," added another N2, her number being 1735.
"They designed me to accelerate up to the speeds an electric engine can get up to and go," grunted another engine, number 21.
"We used to work at a nice harbor with our brothers and sisters," said a Great Eastern tram. "But alas… that cannot be anymore."
Many more cries came from the scrapyard, echoing in Spencer's mind.
"Will any of us get out of here?" he asked quietly.
Days passed, and more steam engines came to the lonely scrapyard, each crying out in despair and anger. But one day, some people came towards two of the engines, the tram engines.
"Can't we save both of them?" asked a young boy to his mother.
"If it were a dream, I'd save them all," admitted the mother. "But we have to be realistic, Stephen. We can only afford one of the tram engines."
"Take Flora!" said the male tram boldly. Both Stephen and his mother looked at him with surprise, as did Flora, the other tram engine.
"H-Holden…" she stammered.
"You want to reunite with Molly, Toby and Hannah, don't you?" he replied. "Besides, you're in better condition than me. I'll be watching you from the Great Railway, dear sister."
From where he sat, Spencer watched as Flora was purchased and then sent off to wherever Stephen and his mother took her.
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and during that time, Spencer watched as several other engines were bought off for preservation. Some engines went alone while others would go off either in pairs or as part of a group. Others were less fortunate and were broken up on the spot. Spencer himself grew more rust patches during that time and he began to lose hope on being saved until one day, a very important looking gentleman came along with his wife.
"Those poor dears…" the woman said quietly. "Why were they taken out of service?"
"Progress, I'm afraid," said her husband. "That's what those in the railway board claim."
"Well, let's change one of their fates." The woman's voice was edged with determination as she ventured further into the scrapyard. Some of the engines looked surprised to see such well dressed figures in such a dusty and gloomy location.
"Who's that?" whispered one of them.
"I might've heard from the workmen that it's the Duke and Duchess of Boxford," said another.
"What would such noble people be doing in a place like this?" asked Spencer to himself. Eventually, after a bit of looking around, the noble couple came across the rusty streamlined engine.
"I say!" gasped the Duke. "Is that one of Gresley's A4s?"
"Th-that I am, y-your grace," stammered Spencer, surprised at being addressed. "We used to be among the finest express engines of the London and North Eastern, but then we were reduced to slower passenger trains and goods when diesels took over." He had a mental image of the very same Deltic he encountered when speaking with Kessie, and the thought alone brought resentment to his voice as he said "when diesels took over."
"I remember seeing engines like you on express runs a lot," said the Duchess. "It would be nice to ride with an engine with that grace and speed."
"And with some repairs and new paint," said the Duke, "we can make that happen. How about it?"
For the first time in months, Spencer had a smile on his face. Not the biggest of smiles, but still a smile nonetheless.
"I'd like that. Oh, where are my manners?" gasped the silver engine. "My real name is Silver Bullet, but everyone calls me Spencer."
"Well then, Spencer," said the Duchess, "let's get you to your new home."
Several months later, Spencer came out of a workshop fully restored to his former glory. On the track next to him were three coaches.
"Are they for me, your grace?"
"They are indeed, Spencer," said the Duke. "Are you ready for your first run with us?"
"A bit nervous, your grace," admitted Spencer as the Duke and Duchess boarded one of the coaches, "but I'll do my best."
He backed onto the coaches and was coupled up. Then, for the first time in months, he set off for his first run with coaches as a preserved engine.
"I guess things really do get better," he said with a smile.
Present
"…but although I was grateful for being given this second chance," said Spencer, "I never forgot my experience in that forsaken scrapyard, but I never told anyone about what I saw or heard there."
Douglas stared in shock at the silver engine, as did Victor and Kevin, who were listening in on the story. For the longest time, although they had rarely interacted during his visits to Sodor, Douglas only saw Spencer as a competitive showoff who would get into races with Gordon just to prove he was superior to his cousin and didn't care about anyone else. But knowing what he did now, he understood that Spencer was partly using his pride to mask his insecure self.
"Yer treatment o' Hiro wis inexcusable," said Douglas, "bit... if thir's yin thing Ah ken, is that haein a near death experience haes lang time effects oan an engine."
"I know it was inexcusable," sighed Spencer, "and I've been trying to improve my attitude towards other engines."
"Ah did hear Thomas mention that ye wur improving," said Douglas. "Ye taking th' Deputy Minister back tae th' mainland lest year is a step in th' richt direction."
"Thank you, Douglas," smiled Spencer weakly. "I just hope the snowstorm is able to clear before Christmas so we can help the others."
Meanwhile, at Tidmouth sheds, Emily was the last to return home after a long day of clearing the snow with Donald.
"Just in time," she gasped as she felt harsh gusts of wind on her boiler. "It looks like it's going to get worse."
"Emily!" gasped Thomas. "I was getting worried about you. Are you okay?"
"I am, thank you for asking," said Emily as she backed into her berth. "Clearing the tracks is hard work, and I can see why Donald and Douglas often volunteer to do it for us."
"Sounds like that effort will have to start again after this snowstorm clears," said Henry. "I'm just glad we've all got here safely."
"It's going to be impossible to get through that snowstorm with our evening trains, Edward," sighed Gordon.
"Not to mention the post runs," added Percy. "Oh, those poor families who were hoping to send out Christmas gifts to their loved ones…"
"We'll have to work double time after the storm clears tomorrow, Percy," said Thomas determinedly. "We'll definitely need Oliver's help, and maybe Duck and Julie too."
Back on the Little Western, Duck, Donald and Oliver shared similar sentiments.
"Well, there goes my chance at the post run tonight," muttered Oliver. "I was hoping to see if Douglas was alright."
"I just hope he and Spencer aren't going to get into a massive argument," sighed Duck.
"If that silver snob says anythin' that upsets Douggie," said Donald, "Ah will gie that Spencer whit fur!"
"Considering what Spencer almost did to Hiro, I just hope and pray he doesn't say the wrong thing," grunted Oliver.
The next day, the snowstorm had lifted, but the tracks were covered in a thick blanket of snow. Once again, Donald and Emily were coupled up to the van.
"Tis okay if yi'll waant tae dae yer normal joabs, Emily," said Donald.
"Well, with BoCo and Derek still not back yet," said Emily, "Edward has enough on his footplate. Plus, I think James may argue with you about doing this the whole time."
Donald chuckled, feeling content with that response. At least Emily was helping to save everyone a bunch of headaches. Once both engines were ready, they set off to help clear the main line.
The duo eventually got to Crovan's Gate, where they were very happy to see a familiar face.
"Douggie!" cried Donald. "Ye'r back!"
"Guid tae see ye, Donnie. Hullo, Emily," smiled the younger twin. "Ah kin tak' it fae 'ere."
"That's good, Douglas," panted Emily. "I'm not used to doing this." She was uncoupled and headed over to the water column while Douglas buffered up to the van; his snowplow was already fitted to his front.
"Yon Spencer didnae gie ye ony grief, did he?" asked Donald.
"Surprisingly, nae." Douglas quickly explained what he had learned to his twin and Emily and both gasped in shock.
"And I thought I had a horrifying experience at a scrapyard," exclaimed Emily.
"I guess we all have near scrap experiences in common now," said Spencer, having been fitted with his snowplow. His safety valve had just been fixed up as well.
"Tis a scary experience," sighed Donald. "Na engine deserves tae gang thro' that."
"And… thinking back to my accident from years ago helped me realize something else too," said Spencer. "Your plowing through the snow is very important to the railway's operations."
The twins - mostly Donald - stared in surprise at those words, unsure of how to reply at first.
"Er... thank ye," said Donald. "We're very proud o' whit we dae tae keep th' railway running."
"You two keep up the good work," said Spencer. "I'll see you around." The twins gave cheerful smiles as Spencer puffed away.
"Weel, Douggie, th' sooner we git gaun, th' sooner ye kin see Oliver again," chuckled Donald.
"Whit ur we waiting fur?" said Douglas, and with a blast of his new whistle, the twins set off to continue clearing the snow for other engines.
The twins and Spencer may still be at odds sometimes, but the trio all now have a newfound respect towards each other, and have been known to have friendly discussions. They even stood by each other at the Christmas celebration that year. Though I'm afraid to say a certain other engine wasn't in the Christmas spirit in the slightest. But that, I think you'll find, you already know how that story went…
THE END
Author's Comments
An unexpected surprise coming from the joint pen of me and Rachel; a new original story featuring Spencer and the Scottish twins! I've always had this idea about writing out a sequel to Look for the Light, as well as wondering what it'd be like if Donald and Douglas were to ever interact with Spencer. And now, this close to Christmas, I got the chance to write about it. Giving Spencer a backstory as to why he is was also an interesting challenge - he starts off thinking of himself as one of the greatest locomotives ever built (and to be fair, the A4s were phenomenally reliable), but then dieselization comes around and he takes badly to this change until his accident, leaving him in a scrapyard for several months. Once he's purchased by the Duke of Boxford's father and restored to working order, Spencer becomes arrogant again, but it's because he doesn't want others to know about the trauma he endured at the scrapyard, and it was when he wanted to get Hiro sent off for scrap that he actually realized he'd gone too far. That being said, he still has shades of arrogance, but it's more out of habit than to put others down. We also included a flashback sequence shortly following the events of Never Be Alone, which is something that Rachel and I both wondered how Douglas found out about Donald intentionally crashing to save his life. And as a side note, I seem to have this thing with unique character combinations that not many people seem interested in exploring, and this story could be added to that pile.
Next time, I'll be posting the final story for the year - New Wheels for Sidney!