Chapter 4: Percy sends Phillip to Gordon in the middle
After his trial in kangaroo court - even though there weren't any kangaroos - and a caucus race, Gordon puffed down the dirt path in peace. He thought that when he grew big, he would require rails again. Gordon did feel more secure on rails, but he did not deny that it would be troublesome to need them when he's somewhere that didn't have tracks.
"As long as I don't knock over, I think I'll be fine." Gordon mumbled to himself. Or was he talking to himself? Gordon had a feeling that someone was watching him shrink bit by bit as he travelled. His first instinct was to chuff as quickly as possible to lose them but that would be a waste of water. Instead, Gordon went slowly and listened carefully for anyone. He heard faint rustles in the flora and soon, voices that spoke in a familiar, scottish dialect.
"Tis yer fault ye scared th' rabbit away." "Na! Tis yer fault! Cause of ye, we have nae company!"
"Donald and Douglas?" whispered Gordon. "They've seen the rabbit? Perhaps they could direct me to him."
Gordon passed through the bushes and saw the scottish twins arguing. They were in engine form, to Gordon's relief. What was different about them was that, despite being like Gordon, they were well versed in moving about in this way.
"Excuse me, do you know which way the rabbit went?" Gordon asked.
Surprised but somewhat pleased, the twins stopped their argument with innocent looks on their faces.
"What rabbit? Na rabbit here," The twins replied in perfect synchronisation, "Who are you?"
At last, Gordon had found residents who referred to him as 'Who', not 'What'.
"My name is Gordon. You two were talking about the rabbit that passed by. You were just arguing about it seconds ago."
"Why ye ask?" The twins pondered.
"Well, I'm chasing after the rabbit because I have to talk to him about something. He rushed by while I needed a nap and woke me up, so I have to find him in order to complain for an apology."
"Ah'm Tweedle-Donald." "An' Ah'm Tweedle-Douglas. An' na, we have nae seen the wee rabbit." "Or was it a big one Douglas?" "Aye, we dinnae know."
Their answer left Gordon puzzled and annoyed. For certain, they knew about the rabbit who went by in a hurry.
"Fine then," Gordon huffed, "I'll try to find him myself. Sorry for bothering you two."
"Wait! We know where it went. We know about it." confessed Tweedle-Donald. "If ye stay for a little while, we'll tell ye which path it went along." added Tweedle-Douglas.
"I guess I could stay," agreed Gordon, "But I'm not the kind of engine who gets obsessed with a tree the moment I see it. I prefer sophisticated entertainment." 'Unlike Henry.' He mentally added.
"Well then, how aboot a brawl?" "A fight!" The twins were bashing against each other and Gordon questioned how in the world does that did not hurt. Gordon was a strong engine, but due to his situation he decided to preserve his energy for whatever was awaiting him in the near future.
"Why don't we just talk about serious things to pass the time? Like gentlemen."
The twins were interested in being 'gentlemen', as if it was some plaything.
"How aboot a poem?" Tweedle-Douglas suggested. " 'The Toad and the Olive tree'. An interesting tale." said Tweedle-Donald.
"Alright then." agreed Gordon.
The twins took turns with each verse.
"The stars all sparkled and twinkled,
Their light upon the moor,
Puck and friends would enjoy,
To dance and sing but what for?
They cheered and sang the tale of,
The characters of the lore,
The sun and moon, day and night,
Though the sun never learned,
Once the sun asked the moon,
'Why should we have turns?'
So the moon simply said,
'So creatures won't wither or burn.'
The lake in the moor barely waved
The moor wearily wuthered,
There was an olive tree,
Because there were no others,
There was a toad,
And it was never bothered,
The Toad and the Olive Tree,
Were very close indeed,
Ever since the Toad was 'Tadpole',
And the Olive tree was 'Olive seed'.
And companions, no matter what,
Was what they both agreed,
The Olive tree obligated to bore,
Poor Toad with tales of bravery,
'I came through storms and thunder,
I'm a very brave tree, see?'
'Yes, Mr Olive Tree, I see.'
Toad responds politely,
Then one day, a creature,
Alligator came to the moor,
"Name's Gator, it's nice to meet you,
Olive Tree's stories always left me in awe,
Toad, would you like to visit me in the lake,
I too have tales galore,"
Toad, was interested,
In Gator but Toad does mind,
Even though Olive tree's quite boastful,
Toad shouldn't leave him behind,
'Cause if he did, the promise,
Would be broken, were he not kind,
Now when you hear the 'wuthering',
It's the Olive Tree of the moor,
'If only I was humble.' he moaned,
Olive Tree withered with grief but what for?
For the Toad visited the Gator,
And didn't come back anymore!"
"The end!" Announced the twins.
"That was quite an interesting poem," Gordon admitted.
"Which character did ye like the best?" asked Tweedle-Donald.
"I think I like the Toad the best. Even though he left the Olive tree, he did feel sorry about it."
"But he still left the Olive tree all sad an' lonely." Tweedle-Douglas interrupted, making Gordon changing his mind.
"In that case, I like the Olive tree the best," Gordon hastily claimed, "He did learn his lesson to be humble at the end, and he did care about the Toad."
"But tis was his own pride that got him into the mess." added Tweedle-Donald.
"Alright, I like the Gator the best then. He was friendly after all."
"But he's the reason why the Toad left the Olive tree." Both twins contradicted.
Gordon was left puzzled.
"Fine then! I like them all equally. No more, no less. You two make them sound so contrary!"
"Contrary?" "Yes. Like in the nursery rhyme, 'Mistress Mary Quite Contrary'."
The two twin engines were interested in one blink.
"Missus Mary? Never heard that poem." "Aye Tweedle-Donald. Could ye care to tell us that poem?"
"Mistress Mary," corrected Gordon, "And sure, it's a short poem."
The blue engine drew in a breath before reciting the nursery rhyme which he has heard from the little children at the stations for years.
'Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.'
"The word 'contrary' makes Miss Mary sound like lovely lady."
"Common mistake," Gordon explained, "'Contrary' means that the person is very disagreeable or stubborn. So the true context is, Mistress Mary is very stubborn of how she grows her garden and doesn't like it when people tell her advice on how she should grow it."
The twins were in awe of this piece of new knowledge. Not that Gordon minded.
"So, which way did the rabbit go?" Tweedle-Donald and Tweedle-Douglas both stopped talking of the word 'Contrary'.
"We can say that the wee rabbit went down this path with the marigolds." The two Scottish engines directed to said path, bound with bright, yellow flora.
"Thank you-" The twins had disappeared, leaving Gordon no choice but to follow the yellow flowered road.
"What an odd pair." Gordon mumbled. "What's more odd that I'm roughly Thomas' size! Oh the indignity…"
Soon enough, the path of marigolds stopped in front of what seemed to be a massive cottage, if it wasn't called a mansion.
"It has a height of one Cranky and a half!" Gordon exclaimed, still proud of his makeshift measuring unit. This had brought the attention of a certain rushed rabbit.
"Oh dear! Oh my! I'm so behind on time!" Gordon had finally found Percy, bunny ears and all.
"Well, well, well. Here's the engine I want to speak to-" "No time to talk! I need to find my parchment!"
Percy rushed into what Gordon believed was his cottage. All sorts of fabrics and little bits and bobs were flung out of the door. One ridiculously large sheet of green silk trapped Gordon, taking away his sight. When Percy had puffed out of the cottage, he took the sheet off Gordon. Gordon was more than confused since Percy was an engine like himself, having only buffers to pull the silk off.
"Oh dear, I don't have time to put this away! Could you do it please?" "What? But I-" "Thank you so much! Put it back in the highest room and in the cupboard!"
Percy shunted Gordon into the cottage before rushing out again. To Gordon's disdain, he would have to pull the door to get out; he only knew how to push.
"I might as well put this away, since I'm stuck in this one and a half Cranky tall 'cottage'." Gordon planned. The not-so-big-but-not-tiny blue engine chuffed onwards for what seemed like hours - even though it was about fifteen minutes, for Gordon exaggerated again - until he came upon the last room.
"How am I meant to reach the stairs?" Gordon pondered. There were two glass doors ajar and they lead to what seemed like a balcony in between two windows, decorated with curtains that had a floral pattern of roses and thorns. He came onto the balcony and was stunned by his current height above the ground. A Cranky and a half, to be exact.
"I didn't even come across any stairs or even a ramp!" Gordon exclaimed, "This is such a bizarre place indeed! I've been shrinking and growing, rained on a bird, thrown to win a race and made another bird dive head-first into the ground and now this!" Gordon did not find the poem exchange with the twins strange enough to fit on his list.
"I suppose I'll just leave this here." Gordon fumbled with the silk that was dragged along on his tender. He bumped into a dresser which had a jug of water on top of it, and the pitcher conveniently fell on top of his boiler. It filled it up completely with water.
Gordon felt his body shrinking and growing in an abnormal way, but he wasn't too big yet.
"Oh no, not again…" He groaned. Gordon burst inside the cottage, breaking on what was supposed to be the second floor. His tender crushed the back garden - if there was one - but fortunately, his face did not pop out of the wall, unlike his buffers. Two windows allowed Gordon to see the commotion outside.
Strangely, Percy was nowhere to be seen considering the destruction of his cottage. However, he did see human figures gaping at him or rather at what abomination that caused this sight before them. Seven of them, to be exact. Gordon squinted his eyes and recognised them by colour and the way they interacted.
The men were dressed in lower-class outfits - by Gordon's definition of lower-class - and wore respective colours and tags displaying their names.
"Would you look at that?" said the carpenter with the tag 'Rheneas', "There's something hiding in that cottage!"
"Ye 'n' yer silly imagination." grumbled the one labelled 'Duncan'.
"He's right, it's staring at us through those two windows!" argued Rheneas' companion, 'Rusty'. "You always have to complain, don't you Duncan?" "Why, I ought to-" "Gentlemen, let's not fight. We can all agree there's something in that cottage. The real question is if it's safe or not." 'Skarloey' interrupted.
"Agreed." 'Sir Handel' remarked in a nonchalant manner.
"It could be friendly," muttered 'Peter Sam', "Anyways, has anyone seen Luke?"
As if on cue, their fellow carpenter (whom Gordon presumed to be Luke) rushed onto the scene, out of breath.
"Sorry guys, I got caught up with something," puffed Luke, "I ran into this little guy getting stuck in a tree."
Gordon was not intimidated or amused by them. "What is this? 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'?"
"We'll never be able to do one rehearsal of 'Pyramus and Thisbe' at this rate!" Duncan complained.
"Correction, 'Pyramus and Thisbe' from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'." Gordon stated. "Might as well be as confusing as 'Much Ado About Nothing'."
Gordon's knowledge of Shakespeare's works came partially from conversations he would overhear at stations. There were a few productions, but obviously Gordon was not able to see them. A Shakespearean actor had often explained the plots of the plays to his mother, who did not understand them. Specifically, the playwright's wording. That was imprinted into Gordon's mind instead of the old lady's.
What Luke ran into appeared to be a small Diesel engine no higher than the fence in front.
"Phillip?" Gordon whispered. Phillip seemed to be more energetic than usual, and that was saying something. Like the Scottish twins Gordon met previously, Phillip was more experienced of movement without tracks.
"Ooh! Is that smoke from that weird chimney?"
Gordon had no idea how Phillip would mistake his funnel for a chimney and the steam clouds for smoke. Then again, this is Phillip.
The group of carpenters had decided to start rehearsing anyway, without supervising the hyperactive Phillip. As Gordon had predicted, there was a carpenter playing 'Pyramus', 'Thisbe', 'Wall', 'Moonshine', 'Lion' and so on. Everytime they mispronounced 'Ninus' tomb' for 'Ninny's tomb', Gordon kept muttering to correct them and groaned at their poor use of iambic pentameter.
Unaware to the Skarloey carpenters and Gordon, Phillip had somehow got onto the roof with debris above the hole Gordon's funnel created. The funnel did not peek through the hole, but Gordon's sudden transformation had been enough to break part of the roof.
"I wonder what will happen if I push all the broken tiles and dust into there?" pondered Phillip. He had pushed all the debris into Gordon's funnel with a naive smile.
The gigantic blue engine spluttered at the invasive feeling of the debris in his pipes and smokebox. The curious diesel above moved closer to observe through the hole in the roof. Poor Gordon felt the need to sneeze, and worried that the whole cottage would collapse on him.
After numerous attempts to contain it, Gordon sneezed. Stronger than Henry had when he taught those mischievous boys a lesson by sneezing soot on them, the sneeze carried the debris and Phillip up into the air.
"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" screeched Phillip. By Gordon's logic, Phillip should've fallen down... but it seemed that Gordon had blasted him out of the atmosphere! This had caught the attention of the Skarloey carpenters, shocked faces plastered on each of them.
"Poor Phillip." Gordon whispered as if it were an apology. He doubted that the poor thing had even thought about writing a will, unlike Gordon, who had hastily created his during his flight in the caucus race. Gordon made a mental note to develop on the will at a later date.
"Well, that does it! The creature in that house is evil! It blew that innocent young'un into the bloody sky!" Duncan cried.
"By the looks of it, we'll have to make a sensible plan." Skarloey decided. 'At least one of them is reasonable.' Gordon thought. "We'll smoke the beast out!"
'What?!' Gordon mentally screeched.
The Skarloey Carpenters all agreed on covering the hole with some of the useable debris and using Gordon's 'smoke' against him. The gigantic 'beast' engine didn't even notice the hole being completed in such a short time frame: they had it done in under a minute.
Plumes of polluted steam poured out of any cracks in the cottage, as well as the windows that were Gordon's only vision. The dust particles that were carried around by the steam made Gordon splutter and wheeze once more. The Carpenters were far away from the cottage in a safe distance to take cover.
This time when Gordon sneezed, the cottage walls and the roof flew away like the frightened critters fleeing nearby, leaving the engine back to his smaller-than-a-toy-engine size.
He saw the frame of the entrance door, with said door missing due to his sneeze and grumpily ignored the Skarloey carpenters celebrating his 'defeat'. With slight satisfaction but discomfort - Gordon absolutely loathed the feeling of dust and debris in his system, which should be well cleared - chuffed out the door and into the long grass.
"Oh the indignity. Now Henry can actually justify why he feels so horrible when he was a sickly engine, since the whistles and taking my express wasn't enough for karma." Gordon moaned.
Author's Note:
To Sydney T. Boyle:
I actually had planned to do a spin-off of this fanfic based on 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz' months ago (Based on the famous 1939 adaption) but with a very different cast and I probably won't work on it until 'Gordon in Wonderland' is completed. So far, I only had just sorted out the cast and I'm mainly focusing on this fanfic. As much as I like to hear your suggestions, do note that I also have limited time to write as I also have to manage my life outside the fandom.
...
Do feel free to leave any constructive criticism! (You can see how I slowly gave up on the Scottish accent in Donald and Douglas' dialogue.)