He's My Brother

by Heimchen

Can an engine be too smart for their own good? That's just one of the concerns the people who handle and care for the locos in Sir Topham Hatt's big new roundhouse in Knapford have about their latest acquisition. An EU drama set in the CGI Thomasverse.

5. Weekend At Ulfstead

HE'S MY BROTHER

Chapter Five - Weekend At Ulfstead

Lammergeier had arrived on Sodor towards the end of the summer and hadn't officially been put to work until that transitional time of the year when children and students of all ages were returning to school. It made for a natural lull in the tourist trade and it wasn't until the new routines of life were re-established before it picked up again. Visitors who showed up towards the fall, especially on the cruise ships catering to them, tended to be affluent older folk, who were done with their responsibilities and obligations cleaning up after the War and who were simply grateful to still be alive and well enough to travel. They often had specific interests in mind and one of them was to re-experience happy memories of travelling the rails via steam locomotive through pretty countryside untouched by the ravages of battle. Sodor Island, of course, was tailor-made for such interests. And its ever increasing population of rare and exotic engines was earning it quite the reputation amongst railfans everywhere.

Thus it was that the first early fall port visit by a number of cruise ships turned out to be a big one, with every excursion train being pulled by engines from Sir Topham Hatt's foreign fleet booked solid. The ships were coming in on a weekend, too, which promised plenty of additional Mainland traffic and cause to put on a full display of static locos as well. For the first time, Lammergeier would be asked to show himself off to the crowds along with Hurricane and Guy, and he was incredibly excited about it. He was most enthused by the thought of finally seeing Stephenson's Rocket, or Stephen as he was locally known, the engine who was the father of them all, in some ways, and who was revered by nearly all living locos. The most amazing part of it, Lammergeier thought, was that not only was Stephen said to be in great shape and have all his wits still about him, but that he was still active enough to run his own little tours about the grounds of Ulfstead and beyond. It gave an engine great hope to realize that one could be well over a century old and yet still have what it took to be able to work and make oneself useful.

All the engines selected for static display and which were needed to pull excursion trains were always given the afternoon off the day before so they could be properly primped and polished. In the Knapford shed, only Henry, Hurricane and Francois had jobs that Friday morning before the big weekend, and the latter two came in early, before lunch. That left Lammergeier anxiously waiting for the lone holdout…Henry's arrival. Henry normally didn't take part in any tourist activities and the 48 expected that his crew would put Henry away quickly and then come tend to him and start getting him prettied up.

At last, just when Lammergeier's nerves seemed about to snap, the big green Black Five lookalike showed up. Henry was still dripping water; evidently he'd just been washed at the washdown just up the rails a bit and had likely been fully fueled and watered as well for the following day's work. It was a good habit for a crew to have, Lammergeier knew and one he appreciated when it benefited himself, but surely the Doyons could have put it off just this once! He was tired of waiting and wanted to get started on his preparations, even though there wasn't a single other human around at the moment doing anything of the sort…the rest of them were no doubt still too busy off stuffing themselves full of their own version of fuel and water, he thought, rather nastily. Henry got onto the turntable, spun about, and backed slowly into his berth next to Adler, halting while still partway out. It was a lovely day, unseasonably warm, and his crew knew that Henry enjoyed being out in the sunshine when it was nice. Adler and Hurricane greeted him kindly. The best Lammergeier could muster up was an irritable look.

Denise and Pierre hopped down out of Henry's cab and Denise walked by the two German engines on her way to get a couple of wash buckets, a hopeful sign. But instead of starting with Lammergeier, she went back to Henry, climbed up, and began cleaning his face. Pierre also got up with his own bucketful of stuff and started polishing Henry's paintwork, using heavy gloves to handle the still-hot metal surfaces. Lammergeier watched with disbelief. They were attending to Henry using the same lengthy end-of-the-day routine they always used. It didn't seem to matter one bit to them that he—Lammergeier—had a very special day coming up and that he needed to look his absolute best.

Lammergeier began to fret in his impatience. Why was his crew spending so much time on Henry? It wasn't as if he were going on display himself the next day! Who cared if he was polished up or if his white running board was free of footprints? Who would even see that the next morning when he did his Kipper run anyway…the fish? And Denise…she was just the worst sometimes the way she dawdled around and wasted time when she did Henry's face, rubbing and drying it with a towel after she'd washed him, then going over it all over again with a piece of chamois, and then she'd just stand there for a while, murmuring to him and rubbing his forehead some more. The waiting finally became annoying enough that he complained to Adler about it, keeping his voice down low enough that the woman probably wouldn't overhear him, but then again, so what if she did?

"Why do they have to fuss over that engine so much?" he muttered. "They're always fussing over him! It's so unseemly."

Adler rolled his eyes. For such an intelligent loco, his brother could say the stupidest things sometimes.

"They do it because Henry likes it," he replied. He looked over at Lammergeier. The other 48's expression was utterly blank. Sighing, and on the off chance that he really was that clueless, Adler added, "Henry's sensitive and a little nervous. Pierre and Denise like to give him lots of extra attention because it helps him feel secure and loved."

"Loved!"

He spat the word out like a curse. Even worse, he looked on the verge of blowing up again. Bewildered and alarmed, Adler averted his eyes. He could not think of a single thing he'd just said which could provoke such a violent reaction and the last thing he wanted was for any of the other engines to see them fighting; Justin and Francois had already become noticeably cooler towards Lammergeier as of late and it all had to do with his brother's blasted unfriendliness towards humans. Now, here he was seemingly angry with Henry, of all engines, and the relationship he had with his crew. It was just unfathomable.

Adler hoped that by refusing to engage with him further that Lammergeier would get over his latest imagined outrage without making himself look like a total fool and it seemed to work. The next time Adler dared glance at him, his brother no longer appeared furious, only sullen. Sullen, in this case, was good. Lammergeier didn't talk much when he was feeling sullen. And the others in the shed, mercifully, hadn't noticed his sudden flare-up.

And yet, when the Doyons finished up with Henry mere minutes later and came over to him, Lammergeier was all smiles again. "Finally!" he said, but it was a cheerful, normal sort of exclamation, the kind any locomotive waiting their turn for attention might make. Adler fumed, more than a little fed up. No matter how much he loved his sibling and tried to be patient with him, Lammergeier's explosive moodiness was starting to get old.

Philip suddenly showed up. Philip was a little diesel boxcab who'd become one of the foreign fleet's most avid cheerleaders and who was always happy to come over and help out when the engines were prepping for their show days or excursions and needed some shunting done. He was a great fan of Justin in particular, even though the Canadian loco had given Philip a terrible, though unintended fright during their first meeting, and had sometimes slept in the new roundhouse with all the Canadians back when they'd first taken up residence.

"Hellooo!" he cried cheerfully at the waiting engines as a whole, stopping just short of the turntable. "Here I am! Anyone ready to go yet?"

"Lammergeier's ready," Denise called back. "He's going up to Ulfstead tomorrow for the first time."

"All right!"

Philip, already more excited for Lammergeier's sake than the 48 himself seemed to be, got himself properly aligned to scoot forward and couple up, then maneuvered the big new German engine over into the washdown area attached to the western side of the roundhouse. This was just one of the nice perks the new building was equipped with. There was always hot and cold water available to keep the engines sparkling clean now, even in the midst of winter, and all the cleaning supplies one could possibly want. Philip's driver, who was just as enthusiastic and hyper as his engine, hopped out as soon as they'd gotten Lammergeier into position and grabbed up one of the long-handled exterior wash brushes to help out. He chattered to the Doyons almost nonstop as they all worked together, backed up from time to time by encouraging comments hurled over by Philip himself.

More crews started showing up to get their engines ready. Then Mister Ray drove up, his van packed full of eager trainees. The washdown area soon became something of a conveyer belt with locos coming and going as quickly as the little boxcab could shunt them. The initial soaping and rinse was just the start of it for most of them. Once their gleaming exteriors had dried, they needed to be rubbed down to a high gloss, their faces carefully cleaned until their alloy surfaces almost glowed, their whistles, lamps, nameplates and any decorative metallic banding polished until they sparkled in the sunshine. After that the running boards would need to be mopped clean all over again and their edges and all the buffers, wheels and rods and the cabs and tenders or bunkers would receive their share of attention. The work was hard, but with so many people pitching in all at once and with so much good-natured joshing going back and forth from all involved, humans and engines alike, it went fast, and the mood in the yard soon became quite festive.

Right around tea time, Sir Topham Hatt showed up with a couple of assistants carrying boxfuls of pastries and small sandwiches plus a cartonful of bottled sodas especially for the trainees. Everyone took a break to make use of the roundhouse's other welcome perk, a spacious working service area and lounge attached to its other end with a nice outdoor patio in front of it which the crews as a whole had added on their own. A small kitchen indoors provided plenty of hot water for tea and cocoa and even the coffee the foreign oddballs liked to drink, and everyone was soon set enjoying a beverage and a couple of goodies from the offerings the Fat Controller had so kindly brought over at his own expense.

Sir Topham's tea time visits, which had become something of a habit for him before any big weekend outings for his foreign fleet, were not entirely altruistic, of course. The excursion trains and other tourist ventures had become important money makers for the railway. Dropping in allowed him the opportunity to check his peoples' work firsthand, look over his engines and their condition, and judge the mood and fitness of the employees who crewed them. He also liked seeing how the young apprentices were coming along and enjoyed spoiling them a bit. Sir Topham was never officious about his evaluations and tried to disguise his intent with plenty of friendly socializing, but did carry them out nonetheless. So far, he hadn't been disappointed once.

When he looked at his lineup of engines this time, Sir Topham Hatt made a point of wishing Lammergeier well.

"So! Off to visit Ulfstead for the first time, Lambchop. Looking forward to it?"

"Oh, ja, Sir Topham Hatt, sir! I am gut mit castles."

"Heh heh, I suppose you are, coming from Europe. You'll be seeing some really splendid new engines up there too, new to you, I mean."

"Ja, ze Rocket!"

"That's right. Sir Robert's pride and joy." He turned slightly to address his other 48. "And you, Adi, just about ready to put on your colours, are you? You'll keep an eye on your brother this weekend to make sure he does well, I hope."

"Of course, sir. I vill vatch him like a hawk."

"Ah, a hawk, yes, heh. An eagle watching like a hawk, good one. Well, I'll leave you be. Both of you look very good, as usual. "

The two German engines thanked their owner. Adler shot his sibling a look as soon as Sir Topham moved on. He'd found it impossible to tell whether Lammergeier's enthusiasm had just been sincere or falsified to ingratiate himself and that in itself was incredibly disheartening to Adler.

The sun began its slow dive towards the horizon and the late afternoon light turned golden. Mister Ray sent his trainees off to get Adler's decorations from a storeroom, always the last task completed before the engines' preparations were deemed done for the day. Long streamers reflective of the Island's colours were first attached to his railings, with a big rosette on each post. Next, the blank studs were pulled from the platform-like extension of his running board over the two leading axels and sturdy short posts were screwed in, then an artfully constructed metal sign proclaiming WELCOME TO SODOR was affixed in the same place where Adler had once carried the Olympic rings. Lastly came the two voluminous flags, secured in their slightly angled holders and placed to stream past the engine's face on either side. It was the first time Lammergeier had seen his brother 'done up' to take his excursion train and he watched the entire process with keen envy throughout. He wished he could take Adler's train too, but apparently the coaches and brake coach involved were owned by someone who lived over on the Mainland and they insisted on meeting and approving any engine allowed to pull them, which sounded crazy to him, but that was how it was.

Their prep-time was done. Philip surged into action once more and carefully shunted the steam engines fully back into their berths, one by one, where they'd be safe from any surprise inclement weather and encouraged to get a good night's sleep. Any humans still left began to do the same…drift off to rest. Soon, even Philip was gone, and with him went the last of the daylight. The gleaming engines left behind in the Knapford roundhouse began to nod off…

Lammergeier's eyes suddenly popped wide open. He could see the sun halfway through its dive beneath the horizon again, but how could that be? He'd just watched it set all the way out of sight! Then he felt movement inside his cab, the door to his firebox being opened. Dawn already? Really? But yes, now that he looked more closely, that new sun was definitely rising. And it had suddenly switched position from one side of the yard to the other...duh! Lammergeier felt pleased with himself. He'd been convinced that he wouldn't sleep a wink, but instead he'd slept as soundly as a brain-dead freighter.

Denise came about in front of him, checking his two lamps as part of her usual walkabout. She smiled at him, but said nothing, and Lammergeier followed suit; some of the other engines, including Adler, were still asleep. He could hear a little movement going on over in Hurricane's berth too and soon glimpsed one of the tank engine's crew doing his own walkabout. Almost time for the two of them—and Guy as well—to go, he thought with satisfaction. Denise had told him the day before that he and the other engines meant for display would be setting out together for Ulfstead shortly after dawn and it looked as though they were right on schedule.

As soon as the trio was out on the lines and they no longer had to remain so quiet, however, Lammergeier was confronted with a nasty surprise. It wasn't his usual fireman Pierre in his cab tending to his fire after all, it was his engineer, that sneaky Christophe person. No wonder 'Pierre' had seemed so light on his feet! If Lammergeier hadn't been so distracted by his anticipation and excitement, he would have clued in at once.

"Where's Pierre?" he demanded in French, interrupting his crew's conversation.

There was a pause. "Well, howdy do to you too," Denise finally said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Pierre's off driving Henry," Christophe added. Since Lammergeier couldn't see them, he felt perfectly safe in wearing a big grin as he spoke and almost laughed aloud at the engine's obvious consternation. "I volunteered to help keep an eye on you," he went on, "so don't even think about misbehaving today. No matter what you do, I'll be right here, watching. So…watch it."

Now Denise was having a hard time not laughing and she didn't feel in the least bit sorry for Lammergeier. She thought he deserved to be threatened for breaking into their conversation so rudely. Lammergeier didn't say another word for the remainder of the trip up to Ulfstead and it was just as well. He was undoubtedly sulking, his usual go-to behaviour when things weren't to his liking.

Lammergeier was indeed in a sour snit, but snapped out of it the instant he glimpsed the first castle turret looming over the magnificent pale bluff the tracks were gradually ascending. There was even a part of the castle which appeared to have been built into the bank itself…wonderful! Then there was a last steep curve and the tracks straightened out and the ground leveled, and the three engines arrived at Ulfstead station, with the estate grounds and the castle proper spread out before them.

How open and expansive it all was and what beautiful views! And the station was larger than Lammergeier expected, with multiple platforms and numerous through tracks and sidings. A five-berth roundhouse with even more connecting tracks had recently been added to one side to both house the new engines the owner of the estate, Sir Robert Norramby, had bought and to serve as an interesting railway exhibit on its own. Some of the new shed's residents were already lined up at one of the platforms and Hurricane, who was leading the Knapford engines, called to them excitedly as they pulled in at the next platform over. They were Hurricane's former colleagues, Lammergeier knew, from the Mainland industrial site where they'd all worked together for a time before being phased out and replaced by more diesel engines. It was an incredible stroke of luck for all of them that they'd found new owners and homes where they could still occasionally see one another and remain friends.

Lammergeier looked them over while his driver jockeyed him into his own final position between Hurricane and Guy. He could tell at a glance why they'd been bought by someone who ran a railway museum; two of them were the weirdest-looking engines he'd ever seen and the third had some kind of messed-up multiple funnel thing going on plus which he appeared crazy. Friendly, though. He was the first one to call over to Lammergeier and welcome him.

"Any friend of Adi's is a friend of ours," he concluded merrily, "and I should hope that you're friends, given that you're brothers, yes? Ha. Ha ha!"

"Okay," Lammergeier replied. Yup, nuts for sure. He wasn't too sure about the one in the middle, the one called Lexi, either. She was an even worse chatterbox than Philip and her cab-forward design was just plain odd. He had no idea of what the smallest engine at the front of their lineup was supposed to be. From his position all he could really make out were a bunch of giant cogs bracketing something low-slung that shook a lot.

Denise and Christophe, who'd set his brakes and damped his fire in the meantime, hopped down out of his cab. Christophe went back to speak to Guy and his crew for a bit while Denise went forward to see how her own engine was making out.

"Well? Happy so far?" the woman asked him, speaking German to help set him at ease.

"I'm fine. What is that strange little loco over there?"

"You mean Theo? He's a traction engine. Have you ever seen one before?"

"No. We didn't use— Oh!"

Denise, surprised by his surprise, tried to see what Lammergeier was suddenly staring at. It didn't take long to spot what had caught his eye. Stephen—the Rocket—was pulling up to the platform at the other side of the station with his colourful string of open coaches. The 48 appeared mesmerized by the sight of him.

"Ah. Our Stephen," she said. "Over a hundred and twenty-five years old and still full of himself. Pretty impressive, isn't he?"

"Yes," Lammergeier breathed, his admiration for once utterly honest. Denise gave him an approving pat.

"I suspect he'll be kept far too busy to do any visiting with us this weekend," she said. "But sometime next week we can always come back up and I'll introduce you, if you like. He's really nice."

"I would like that." He watched as another small engine, also with several open coaches, pulled in behind the Rocket. The new loco was even more bizarre-looking than Theo, the new winner in the oddities department. Denise saw Lammergeier's expression turn sceptical and confused, and chuckled.

"That's Glynn," she told him before he could ask. "He's a vertical boiler engine. He actually used to work on our railway years ago until his design was phased out."

"Vertical… Why vertical?"

Denise shrugged. "Just an early design variant. I guess they worked quite well, but didn't offer any real improvements over Stephen's design. So that's why you look like Stephen's big cousin and not Glynn's."

"Thank goodness!" Lammergeier exclaimed, saying it with such prissy vehemence that Denise couldn't help grinning.

The sun was well up by now and the unseasonable warmth was holding on. Although the estate wasn't open to the public yet, a lot of people were already present and helping to set up numerous booths and additional displays. Some of them, the ones wearing distinctive yellow vests, came over to the two display platforms. These were the volunteers from the Friends Of Steam club, who were always happy to assist with managing the engines on exhibit for no other reason than because they loved being around steam locomotives and relished the opportunity to actually befriend one. Lammergeier, the new guy, proved to be quite the draw. His brother Adler was one of the volunteers' favourites and everyone present knew about how Lammergeier had been saved from a French scrapyard and already felt kindly towards him because of it.

As for Lammergeier, he looked at the volunteers a little askance at first, but wound up basking in their admiration once Denise stepped in and catered to his language preference a little bit. The language issue was one of the reasons she and Christophe had decided to remain with him themselves for the time being, then take breaks in turn once he proved reliable. Engines could be funny when it came to how they interacted with strangers in public. Some were naturals at schmoozing with humans and putting them at ease. Others were awkward or came off as unintentionally intimidating or were rattled by noisy crowds in general. Lammergeier's crew was already sure he'd be fine with crowds and commotion…not so sure about the level of his friendliness or inclination to socialize. The way he'd behaved with the volunteers boded well, though. He was certainly in a good mood, and the more he looked about, the more comfortable and jovial he seemed to become.

The very first visitors began to show up. These were invariably local people, who'd driven up to the castle grounds to get in as early as possible and beat the crowds. Some went over to the castle itself to see the new exhibits. Others headed for the platform where Stephen and Glynn were waiting to take people on a short rail tour of the entire estate. And the die-hard railfans, they made a beeline for the platforms where the display engines were waiting, eager to get up close and personal with the machines that fueled and haunted their dreams and sometimes served as items to be ticked off on a checklist.

Lammergeier again came in for his share of attention. The railfans were like the volunteers; almost all of them knew of Lammergeier's rescue and that he was a rare 48 and related to Adler. They spoke more to Denise than they did to the engine himself, which he began to find boring, and Lammergeier in a good mood and bored was a dangerous combination. To amuse himself, he began announcing some of the visitors, speaking just loudly enough to warn Denise of their approach. Some of the announcements he used weren't exactly polite. Denise tried her best to ignore his less-than-helpful efforts. The little rush of enthusiasts keen to have a look at him was almost over anyway.

"Hier kommt 'ne Olle mit 'ne Haube," Lammergeier suddenly muttered. This time Denise scowled at him. He was slipping into his Berlin dialect, always a bad sign; Denise could barely understand him and Adler when the two German engines really got into it together and spoke Berlinisch. And he was right. A plump woman who'd been looking at Hurricane was starting to toddle their way. She had an actual toddler attached to her via a death grip on his hand and had an older baby tucked under her other arm like a loaf of bread, and was indeed wearing a bizarre sort of bonnet or maybe it was a head scarf with a bunch of fake blossoms stuck to it, just as Lammergeier had said.

"She looks like a flower garden," he added cheerfully, still in his fractured Berlin German. "Or a landscaping project."

Denise's mouth started to twitch. The woman with the kids was wearing an ample dress that did look rather flowery. Lammergeier eyed her vegetative excess with wicked delight.

"Two hills and a sunken garden…"

"Shut up!" Denise hissed at him. "You don't even know what you're saying." Then the woman was there, too close for Denise to risk being overheard trying to chew out her engine any longer. The woman stopped by Lammergeier's buffer beam and regarded him with vapid eyes.

"Oh look, Tommy!" she exclaimed, yanking on the little boy's hand. "Isn't that a pretty train? He's so red." Then the new roundhouse just a short distance away caught her attention. "Oh, and look! There's a train house. See it? That's where the trains live."

Lammergeier said, "Lady, you don't have all your cups in the cabinet, do you?"

Denise couldn't take it any longer. Struggling mightily to keep a straight face, she fled back to Christophe, who was hanging out by Lammergeier's cab.

"He's making rude comments about the visitors," she pleaded with him, not needing to specify who 'he' was.

"So? Tell him to stop."

"I can't! He's speaking that awful Berlinisch. I can't help laughing."

"Oh man, some disciplinarian you are," Christophe scoffed, although he was on the verge of laughing himself. "Okay, say no more. Stay here and I'll give it a shot for a while."

Even though he knew it was mean, Christophe couldn't help snickering a bit as he went forward to take up the gauntlet in his friend's place. He knew from his own past experience how difficult it was to keep an engine in line once said engine's bad behaviour started making you laugh, even the slightest bit.

As expected, Lammergeier frowned as soon as he saw him. "Where's Denise?" he asked in French.

"We switched positions. She'll be minding your cab for a while," Christophe answered.

He turned his back and knew without looking that Lammergeier was scowling at him. And while Christophe couldn't realistically stop him from continuing to mutter away to himself in German if he wanted to, he guessed that Lammergeier wouldn't get much pleasure out of it anymore now that there was no one about who could understand him. The engine's French, though excellent, likely wasn't on the idiomatic level required to be cracking smart jokes either, so hopefully he'd reconsider and cool it.

Sure enough, that was exactly what happened. With his naughtiness stymied, Lammergeier went silent and he stayed silent, confining himself to the odd heavy sigh to show how much he was suffering. Christophe ignored him.

Lammergeier perked up again, however, once he heard a familiar whistle and saw James pull in at the main platform with several coaches, the first of numerous local runs slated to come up to Ulfstead during the weekend. He knew that James didn't care for him or Adler either, if only because the bright red portions of their liveries rivalled the smaller loco's own red coat, and the 48 was in a mood to torment him about it. Alas, James had stopped too far forward on his platform and didn't even seem to notice Lammergeier, or if he did, was pretending not to. Very disappointing… But there was nothing much to be done about it.

A bunch of kids suddenly came running up to him, screaming in their excitement. "Lambchop! Hi, Lambchop!" they shouted at him and bounced up and down, giggling. Lammergeier regarded them with alarm. Who were these little hellions and why were they yelling his name?

Christophe swung into tour guide mode immediately. "Hello, kids!" he said cheerfully. "Come to welcome our new boy to Sodor, have you?"

They shrieked again, in the affirmative.

"Well, you'll have to forgive him if he doesn't say much back to you. His English isn't very good yet, you see. And he can be a bit shy. It's his first time up here."

Lammergeier was outraged. Shy!

"I speak!" he interrupted. "Hallo! Pleez to meet you."

The children giggled again, this time at his accent. Several adults came up, presumably the parents of the hell-brood, and they were amused too.

"What a handsome engine!" one of the mums exclaimed. "You can really see he's related to Adi, can't you?" she said to Christophe.

"Yes, ma'am. A true pair of brothers. Not identical, but very similar."

"I think I saw this one going past the animal park the other day," said one of the men. "Bringing a load of slate to Brendam? Does that sound about right?"

"If it was in the afternoon, then it was probably him," said Christophe. "He's excellent at moving heavy goods. A real hard worker." He made a show of patting the edge of Lammergeier's running board. "Aren't you, Lambchop?"

"Ja. I pull hard."

"Well, I'm glad you found your way to Sodor," said the woman who'd called him handsome. "I hope you like it here."

"Zank you."

The little group dispersed and moved on to visit with Hurricane, the kids making a point of yelling their good byes to 'Lambchop' before they did so. Christophe looked curiously at his locomotive. He'd started off strong with a little sly prodding, then his enthusiasm had seemed to fizzle out, although he'd remained polite and said the right words (as best he could). It was odd… The visitors had been exceptionally nice. Most male engines Christophe knew would've been over the moon given the 'handsome' comment alone. But Lammergeier hadn't even smiled and had in the end treated the exchange as though it were a duty instead of as a pleasurable opportunity to socialize with the people he served in a relaxed setting. Christophe pondered the situation. Obviously no engine could be permitted to insult or harass the visitors who came to see them, but he also wanted Lammergeier to enjoy himself today and not come away thinking that being put on display was an onerous task to be avoided at all costs.

Hurricane's boisterous laugh floated back at that point, interrupting the little engineer's train of thought. (Sorry.) Now there was a loco who loved his display days and he'd come from something of the same officious background as had the two 48s. Hurricane had warmed instantly to the notion that he could have more than just a pragmatic, unemotional relationship with a human once he'd come to Sodor and was now friendly and welcoming to everybody and adored his crew, who were so fond of him in turn that they sometimes wound down at the end of their workday by staying with him while they had a last cup of tea and played a game of checkers. The two men would always play on a folding table which they'd bring out along with a couple of chairs and set up on the track in front of Hurricane's berth, too, so he could follow along; this never failed to fascinate the big tank engine. All the locos in the foreign shed had similar warm feelings for their special humans and for people in general…all except for moody Lammergeier.

There was a bit of a lull in the foot traffic, now that the folks who'd gotten off the local and who'd wanted to see Lammergeier first had already come through. Christophe decided to try appealing to the loco's ego.

"Do you know how it is that those kids came up already yelling your name?" he asked, using French again to further encourage him.

Lammergeier shifted his eyes to glance sideways at the man. He looked bored.

"Someone told them my name."

"They likely read about you in the Sodor Times. They had quite the spread about this weekend's activities at Ulfstead and you were mentioned specifically as being set to make your debut as an exhibit. They even had a photo of you."

That caught his attention. "Did they?" he said. "Was it a good one?"

"Why not see for yourself? Would you like to see the article, Lammergeier?"

"Yes. Yes, I would!"

"Alrighty then. Sit tight for a minute and I'll go find it for you."

He trotted off, gleeful that Lammergeier had taken the bait. En route, he stopped by Denise, warned her that he'd be leaving for a bit and for her to watch their engine and not let him curse out the visitors too badly, then hurried on before she could ask any questions. The Sodor Times was a popular newspaper and it didn't take Christophe long to snag a copy of the latest issue at one of the kiosks being set up. He brought it back and prevailed upon his colleague once more.

"Here," he said, thrusting the paper into her hands. "Do me a huge favour and climb up on Lammergeier and show him the article they wrote about this weekend that has his picture in it. Oh, and read it to him if he wants. I don't think his English is good enough yet for him to read it himself."

"What? Right now?" she protested. "I can't be climbing around on him now!"

"Why not? There's no rule against it. I can manage on my own. Besides, the visitors'll love it. An engine reading the newspaper…very human, no?"

"Ugh. You two… Is he at least behaving himself? I haven't heard you yelling at him yet."

"He's been good. Think of this as a reward. Pleeaaazze, Denise? I'd hop up myself, but he likes you better. And you can translate for him if he gets stuck on a word."

"Cripes. Okay, gimme a boost."

She got onto Lammergeier's running board by grabbing hold of his foremost railing post while Christophe gave her a leg-over. The engine was glad to see her and studied his own photo avidly and followed along when Denise began reading the article aloud to him. He looked happy and intrigued as he absorbed the words, exactly as a loco on public display ought to look.

Christophe looked around. As he'd hoped and expected, a lot of the visitors close by had noticed that the red and black German engine appeared to be reading a newspaper being held in front of his face by one of his crew and they were getting a big kick out of it. A small crowd began to gather. Many of them took snapshots. Even better, Christophe could see a man with a much more elaborate, professional-looking camera slung about his neck sidling their way. He knew it was one of the Island's official photo-journalists, no doubt on the hunt for some good early human interest stuff, and sure enough, the man soon began angling for the perfect shot of the woman and her locomotive, reading the paper together. Once satisfied, he exchanged his camera for a little notebook and came over to Christophe.

"Hi," the photo-journalist said. "This is very cute, the two of them. That's Missus…Doyon up there, yes? Denise Doyon?"

"That's right. She's Lambchop's official driver right now and her husband, Pierre, is his fireman. I'm just filling in for Pierre for the weekend."

"Ah. I was going to ask." He paused to scribble a few lines in his notebook. "You're still working at the steamworks, normally, the engineer for the foreign engines, aren't you?"

"I am. I supervised Lambchop's restoration."

The man paused again to look Lammergeier over, long and hard.

"You must have done something right," he concluded. "He looks wonderful. Nice fellow?"

"I think he is. And of course, as you can see, he's very intelligent. The only reason Denise is reading to him at all is because he's still working on his English. He's already fluent in French in addition to German."

"So he'll soon be trilingual. Huh." The man's gaze grew admiring. "Puts a lot of us to shame, really."

"It's more than I'm capable of. I'm only bilingual," said Christophe. "Some of these engines are truly remarkable."

"Yes," the photo-journalist agreed thoughtfully. "Well, thank you for your time. I think one of the shots I got may well wind up in the Sodor Times. I made sure that their masthead was visible."

Christophe laughed. "I think you're right, then. Pretty irresistible for an editor, I'd say."

"That's what I'm hoping," the man said, and off he went.

Christophe felt great. He'd just gotten Lammergeier some very positive press and the engine was making everyone who was looking at him smile…with a little help from a certain human friend. This was exactly the sort of start to Lammergeier's side job as a tourist engine Christophe wanted to see.

The long wailing whistle of a big approaching locomotive drifted up from the tracks leading up to the estate's station. A minute later, Connor, one of the Mainland express engines, pulled in. His coaches were packed full and the folks who poured out added to the number of visitors already present significantly; it was shaping up to be a very busy day indeed. Lammergeier, who'd just finished with the newspaper article, stared over at the streamlined American engine with great interest. He'd seen Connor before, but only from a distance. Denise, who was still up on the 48's running board, stretched an arm out over the junction of the top of his facial plate and smokebox and leaned against the side of his face in a friendly fashion.

"What is he, exactly, that loco who just came in?" Lammergeier asked her.

"Connor? He's a Hudson, from a railway on the Eastern coast of the United States. Not to be confused with our Francois, who's a Royal Hudson. Like his streamlining?"

"I'm not sure… He does look fast."

"Oh, he's fast all right. Faster than you and faster even than Gordon, I believe, although I doubt Gordon would ever admit it." She rubbed the top of Lammergeier's face absently. "But that's all he does, Conner…he moves passengers. He's not as versatile as you are."

Her favour for Christophe done, Denise gave Lammergeier one last pat and got set to hop down. "Well, I've got to get back to doing touristy things," she said. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

The engine looked surprised. "Can't you stay up here with me?"

"No. Now, are you going to behave or not? Because if you're going to start insulting people again, I'm staying back by your cab."

"I won't insult anyone," he promised, and then—yes, he was that shameless—gave her one of his winks. Denise got down before he could see her blushing. Maybe he didn't care if anyone saw what he'd just done, but she did, and for some reason was embarrassed about it.

And of course one of the people who HAD seen was the one who helped her get back over on the platform again. "So. You and Lammergeier made up, did you?" Christophe asked, smirking. "Engagement back on, is it? Lovers' spat over?"

"I swear I'm going to punch you right in the head," Denise growled. "But yes, I think he'll be okay now."

"Good. Give me a wave if you need help," said Christophe, and left her to continue monitoring Lammergeier's interactions with the visitors again.

The low wails of two additional engines approaching from below began echoing about the Ulfstead grounds. Both Lammergeier and his crew perked up this time. These whistles they knew…the first excursion trains, pulled by Justin and Francois, were coming in. Although both had taken slightly different routes since picking up their tour groups from the cruise ships earlier that morning, the two trains were slated to visit Ulfstead at the same time and often came in within a few minutes of each other. Today it was Francois in the lead and his crew chose the left-hand platforms as their stopping point while Justin took the through track on the main display platform. The passengers piled out gleefully, already enthused by the scenic drive up to the estate. As soon as everyone had disembarked and it was safe to do so, Francois and Justin moved their trains into the sidings in the center of the station yard, a bit of nimble maneuvering which many of the new visitors watched with great interest. The coaches would be safe there plus it freed up the through tracks again for other traffic. It also allowed for the two excursion engines to be uncoupled so they could take up their places to become temporary short-term exhibits themselves.

Francois again took the lead as the two Canadian engines settled in at the other side of the Knapford engines' platform. The five of them made for quite the colourful group, given that the two newcomers plus Guy were all painted up in the same two-tone scheme as was Lammergeier, except that they were black below paired with a truly gorgeous tone the colour of a deep blue sea, accented with bold red stripes and a little gold or white. Hurricane's red-brown livery, by contrast, was of a more prosaic design, but it glowed like a chestnut freshly fallen from its shell, and its red-banded accents gave him a deluxe, made-to-order appearance with an appeal all its own.

Justin, who fancied himself the unofficial leader of the Knapford gang, had his concerns about Lammergeier and made a point of speaking to him first.

"Hey, Lambchop. How you doin' over there?"

"I am fine," the other engine answered. Actually, he was a little annoyed at being singled out. It was obvious to him that Justin thought he might be in trouble or causing trouble. Lammergeier gazed over at the sidings where the trains had been parked, in part to admire them but also to make it clear that he wasn't interested in talking any further. They were certainly beautiful coaches, six of them in total plus the two brake coaches, and all of them painted to match the Canadians' liveries. The tours they took part in had become so popular that there was talk of buying yet another train's worth of coaches of similar make, in which case even Guy would be pressed into service to pull them, even though he was nothing of a passenger locomotive—his specialty was heavy goods and snowplowing. It wasn't fair, thought Lammergeier. He was the one who ought to be pulling luxury trains, not that…that lunk of a freighter!

Justin, meanwhile, put off by Lammergeier's reaction, sought confirmation from his friend Denise. They still knew each other well enough that all Justin had to do was look at her and let his expression speak.

"He really is fine," she called before strolling over to reassure Justin further and talk with his disembarking crew. She watched the two men walk off to take a break after exchanging a bit of chitchat, feeling rather envious. Justin was one of those engines who was so good with people and so trustworthy that he could always be left on his own no matter how big the crowds became. All he ever needed help with was for someone to watch his cab and keep the nutjobs from trying to climb aboard and play choo-choo driver. Denise stroked the tall loco's beautifully streamlined front while they had a brief, fond conversation, then she went forward and greeted Francois' own departing crew before giving the Royal Hudson his own share of attention. Like Justin, Francois was another personable, trustworthy one and totally safe to leave on his own. It made Denise sick sometimes to think that the two of them had come so close to being scrapped back in Canada. There were far too many good engines being deemed obsolete and losing their lives nowadays.

Happy and refreshed by having spent a few minutes with her old favourites, Denise returned to her self-imposed station by Lammergeier's leading axels. The 48 was still staring at the trains brought in by the Canadians and totally ignoring the visitors who were looking up at him. Typical.

But it was by no means all bad, though. Denise and Christophe both enjoyed talking to the visitors, especially the avid enthusiasts, and it became especially fun when the visitors were foreign tourists and they'd all scout around searching for that one language they might have in common. Train-love was pretty universal and easily communicated. If Lammergeier didn't feel like socializing, well, his two human minders would socialize for him. He was only hurting himself by missing out, and as long as he let people look at him without putting them off with sour or intimidating expressions or belittling comments, he was fulfilling his obligations as an exhibition locomotive, strictly speaking. And of course the Friends Of Steam folks were always there, happy to guard Lammergeier's cab while one or the other of his crew took a break for whatever reason. The rest of the morning thus passed rather cheerfully, and it was fun to watch Justin and Francois later on reconnect with their trains and then gather up their respective flocks before departing again with long wails of their whistles and great whooshes of steam. Unlike Lammergeier, the two Canadian engines and their crews knew exactly how to please the crowds and they liked doing so.

The lunch hour came and went. Another local train and then the Mainland express again arrived to disgorge their human loads and the numbers of people present swelled again. The beautiful weather held, almost cloudless and as warm as a midsummer day, with just a hint of crispness evident in the fitful breeze. Almost everyone was smiling and seemed happy to be enjoying the estate's great natural beauties and its viewpoints and the castle and its exhibits. And of course they loved all the splendid engines on site.

Round about midafternoon, Lammergeier finally heard the one thing he'd actually been listening for all day, the low imperious whistling cry of his brother announcing his approach to Ulfstead. Adler soon glided in at Lammergeier's own platform as smoothly as a pennant ship, flying all his banners, looking so wonderful that his arrival prompted a ripple of applause from everyone standing nearby. Unlike the coaches making up the Canadians' trains, the three coaches and brake coach being pulled by Adler were considerably shorter, short enough that all four plus their engine could fit neatly at the display platform. And they were coaches who were definitely worthy of being exhibited—they were alive, for starters, a fairly rare thing in of itself. They'd also been created to serve as their owner's, the famous late American railroad tycoon Mister EP Beauchamp's, private transportation, and were thus of ornate and lavish make and about as close to royalty as it got in the United States when it came to rolling stock. The Beauchamp coaches loved being out and about and meeting new passengers and they loved being pulled by such a courtly, good-looking engine such as Adler, and he loved pulling them in turn. It was, as they say, a win-win situation, and the passengers lucky enough to be aboard thought it was a pretty darn sweet arrangement too.

Adler rolled his eyes, trying to see his sibling even as he was being settled in at the front of the platform. "Lammergeier? Doing all right over there, brother?"

The other 48 being addressed just felt ticked off all over again. Why was everyone acting as though they expected him to mess up? He knew how to comport himself, thank you very much!

"I'm doing fine," he called back, his tone rather peevish. He looked over Adler's coaches. They matched their engine's paint scheme perfectly, the thick white trim line separating their scarlet and black carried all the way through to the end of the brake coach. Lammergeier sighed, feeling more envious than ever. "You look good, Adler. Really good. Better even than the old days. A lot more colourful. I like it."

"Thanks. I like it too. Just so you know, most of my passengers today are from Europe."

Lammergeier said nothing more. He knew Adler's last words had been something of a warning to him and he didn't appreciate it. To make it worse, he felt his driver's hand on the edge of his foremost running board and she added, "Yeah, so no smart remarks from you, please, in whatever language. You'll never get to pull those coaches if they think you're ill-mannered."

Now that was just uncalled for, Lammergeier thought. He'd just been trying to have a little fun earlier on before that killjoy of an engineer had stepped in! Well, if his old fuddy-duddy brother and his crew wanted it formal, then he'd give them formal. It was all he'd ever known back in Germany anyway, where passenger engines in particular were meant to be seen and not heard, warning bells and whistles aside.

Adler's fireman got out and joined the brakeman—two brakemen, actually—in tending to the coaches' doors, opening them and offering assistance if such was required as the passengers began to disembark. Lammergeier looked them over closely and listened in to their happy chatter as they took in their new venue and began drifting closer. Swiss, Austrian and French, the 48 thought, and some of the Austrians had to be from Vienna—their soft, lilting dialect was unmistakable. How odd to hear so many familiar sorts of voices from his days of running the rails in Europe here on this very British island set far away from the Continent. And with Adler sitting idle at the same platform just across from him, all done up as he'd been when they were promoting events…well, it seemed as though time had just slipped backward for both of them.

The new visitors were kind and well-informed. They referred to him by his real name and even his build number and expressed their pleasure at seeing him so well restored and in full working order again; evidently, the tour had included a dose of locomotive history. Lammergeier felt especially smug when he overheard both Denise and Christophe explaining that he was the more accurate of the two 48s, the only one who still had all his original parts from buffer to buffer whereas Adler had a modified tender. He wished that they'd also mention that he was the faster engine, but alas, they did not.

Adler and his coaches remained at Ulfstead for several hours. Lammergeier never did get the chance to speak much with his brother. They were too far apart, relative to one another, and there were simply too many people about. Instead, he had to settle for watching Denise go over and chat with Adler awhile, then she hobnobbed with Erich and Dieter Dornwith, the two men who crewed Adler, and after that she even visited with the two brakemen. It wasn't until he looked closely at the brakemen that Lammergeier suddenly realized that they were the trainee instructor, Mister Ray, and one of the youngsters, the short, blond-haired boy called John or Joe or something like that, all done up in proper uniforms, and that realization for some inane reason annoyed him. He was even more annoyed when he saw Denise laugh and give the boy a hug before walking off and out of his field of vision along with Adler's crew, and this time he had good reason to feel ticked because he had to put up with Christophe tending to him during her absence. Denise and the Dornwiths didn't come back, in fact, until shortly before Adler was due to leave. By then most of his tour group had already returned to the display platforms and it took little time after that to get everybody aboard again and settled in, and the opportunity for any sort of proper farewell between the brothers was lost. Adler soon chuffed off with a great blast from his whistle amidst a huge cloud of brilliant white steam. The thick tendrils of mist curling up about his black wheels and being set aswirl by the flapping flags made for a wonderful and memorable departing sight, but Lammergeier was still sorry that he hadn't be able to say good bye as he'd wanted to.

The remainder of the day wore on. Lammergeier continued to behave himself, but never did pay much attention to the visitors milling around. He spent far more time watching Stephen and Glynn come and go and staring off at the other engines on the premises and several times responded to a question put to him directly with a blank stare, as if he couldn't understand a word. Denise felt bad for the people he ignored and followed Christophe's lead in sometimes intervening for Lammergeier with such comments as "his English isn't very good yet, I'm afraid" (true) or "he's not much used to crowds yet and is feeling a little shy" (totally false) or even "I think he's too overwhelmed and distracted by all the excitement to talk much today…it's his first time here, you know" (quasi-true). But then came the supper-time lull when the numbers of people about dwindled and Denise found out exactly how much attention he'd really been paying.

"That young woman and the man who stopped and looked at me about half an hour ago," Lammergeier suddenly spoke up as soon as they found themselves alone for a spell, the term 'alone' being relative. "They mentioned Wagner. What did they mean by what they said?"

Now Denise was the one drawing a blank.

"Er…could you be more specific? A lot of people have been stopping to look at you."

"It was the woman who said I looked like something out of a Wagnerian dream. What did she mean by that?"

Denise paused, feeling more than a little annoyed. And here he'd been pretending at times that he couldn't understand a word of English! Still, it was a legitimate question.

"Okay. First, do you know who Wagner is?" she asked him.

"Of course. A composer who is popular in my homeland. He wrote the Ring Cycle."

"Yes," she replied, pleased by the depth of his knowledge. "Well, those operas he wrote, some of which make up that Cycle, tend to feature very specific types of characters."

"You mean archetypes?"

"Right," she affirmed, and paused again, her pleasure now mixed with honest surprise. Where had Lammergeier even heard of such a thing? How bright was he, anyway? "That woman," she continued on, "was probably thinking of the hero archetype when she said you looked like something out of a Wagnerian dream. Your facial features do appear rather…Teutonic. Ideally Teutonic."

Lammergeier paused himself at that point to reflect upon her words for a few moments. "Like the idealized depictions of male humans on the propaganda posters I saw," he finally concluded, and Denise felt the hair lift up on the nape of her neck, not from any sort of fright or apprehension, but because she suddenly got the 'spooky' comment Christophe had once made about the quality of Lammergeier's intellect. Engines weren't supposed to be capable of genuine abstract thinking and deductive reasoning. It wasn't intended to be a part of their makeup because not a one of them needed such abilities to do their jobs.

Lammergeier abruptly smiled. "Is this why you people think I'm handsome? Because I appear…idealized?" he asked, and Denise could swear that his words were tinged with a hint of coyness, something else that should have been beyond him. She struggled briefly with what her loco had just revealed, unsure of how to answer him.

"Um. Yeah," she replied at last. "I guess."

"Our faces reflect the expectations of our builders, I think," Lammergeier mused aloud, and mercifully went silent.

Although her own face had remained composed, inside, Denise was now a seething ball of excitement. 'reflect the expectations of our builders'…I have to remember that! she thought wildly. She wished Christophe was still present so she could run back and relate the conversation she'd just had before she forgot any of it, but he was off having dinner and one of the Friends Of Steam volunteers was manning his position in the meantime. She made do by committing the most important lines of dialog to memory instead.

Another last flush of visitors off another local train pulled by Edward got things moving again for a while. Although barely past supper time, it was already almost time for the sun to set. Many of the new people had come to watch the fireworks scheduled to go off as soon as it became dark and strolled quickly about in the waning light, visiting with some of the display engines while they were still able to even see them. The artifacts museum inside the castle was also still open and would remain so until the fireworks display was over, but of course that part of the estate was better lit; it could wait. Denise was pleased to see Lammergeier take more interest in his visitors as twilight began closing in. He even said a few words to them now and then. Probably fishing for more compliments, his driver thought, grinning to herself. He'd probably be insufferable on a whole new level now that she'd pretty much confirmed that a lot of humans found him good-looking.

The last visitor to the display engine platforms was ushered off and the Friends Of Steam volunteers on duty closed the ramps off for the night with temporary barricades. The forecast for the night was for clear skies and the display engines would be left outside. They'd be guarded, though, just in case; some of the volunteers were already setting up with folding chairs, blankets, and other comforts, getting ready to enjoy the fireworks along with everyone else. Christophe, who'd returned again right after Edward showed up, looked over at Denise and gave her a thumbs up and made a gesture of wiping sweat from his brow. The woman expressed her own silent, non-eavesdroppable assessment by pointing at Lammergeier, rolling her eyes, and see-sawing her held-out hand to indicate so-so. In other words, not too bad for their first show day out with a difficult engine. They'd both known worse.

"Well, I'm off to visit with Guy," Christophe said aloud after that. "We going home after the fireworks with the volunteers or with the local?"

"The volunteers. They've got a couple of cars going straight to Knapford."

"Sounds good. Meet me at their stand in case we get separated in the crowd."

"Will do," Denise agreed, and watched her friend walk back to the Canadian engine at the end of the platform. She knew that Guy was Christophe's favourite and that he was always looking for opportunities to spend time with the husky Northern. Her gaze went to Lammergeier. He was already looking at her, his glass-hard eyes glittering with reflected light in the near-dark.

"Want some company up there?"

His lopsided smirk was all the invitation she needed. It was too risky to try just jumping over onto him on her own. She took the safer route of climbing down onto the track and slipping the loop of tough cloth she always kept crumpled up in her pocket over the coupling hook on his buffer beam and using it as a stirrup to hoist herself up. The first scintillating explosion burst in the air high over Ulfstead castle as she settled herself by Lammergeier's face just as she had earlier in the day, when the two of them had watched Connor. This time it was the fireworks display which absorbed them. And while Denise never knew what the engine thought of it all, for her it became one of the best memories she had of her time spent with him…just the opportunity to stand peaceably for once, enjoying the mild evening, the long streaks and sparkling lights arcing across the heavens reflecting in the mirror gloss over the loco's boiler, the appreciative oohing and applause of the crowd… Lammergeier could be a pain, but he did have his moments. This was one of them.

The locomotives who were being left outside went on to have a peaceful, uneventful night once the visitors were cleared away later that evening. Lammergeier again slept very well and woke up shortly after dawn to a brisk conversation already underway between Hurricane and his experimental engine friends, with Guy tossing in the occasional, almost indecipherable comment in his fractured English. It was the first time the display engines really felt free to chat amongst themselves, given that only a few bleary-eyed Friends Of Steam people were to be seen yet anywhere near the station, and Lammergeier soon found himself engaged in a lively dialogue with Lexi. Unfortunately for the 48, it was almost entirely one-sided. Lexi evidently liked the strong, silent type when it came to male engines and was perfectly happy to ramble on all by herself as long as Lammergeier contributed the odd "okay" or "ja". At least it gave him plenty of time to just look at her, and now that he'd become used to her odd configuration, he had to admit to himself that she was quite pretty and beautifully coloured. A volunteer she liked distracted her in turn after a while, much to his relief, and Lammergeier watched the human down an entire cup of steaming tea before Lexi wore out towards the end of her new conversation. He was pretty sure that the man hadn't said a single word, either, but the man didn't seem to mind. Maybe he thought that the cab-forward engine was pretty too.

Lammergeier began watching for his crew to arrive. Denise had told him the day before that she and Christophe would be coming back shortly after dawn and partaking in a complimentary breakfast being offered up in the castle courtyard to any volunteers or duty personnel. The sun was by now rising fast and Lammergeier hoped that this meant that his crew was already present and would soon come over to him. He was tired of having to listen to English and only interact in English and wanted Denise to come and speak German with him—he knew she would indulge him that way. His vigil so absorbed him that he almost missed the appearance of one of the most important human figures on the whole of the Island. It was only thanks to the experimental engines on the next platform over raising their voices in sudden, cheerful greeting that alerted him that their own owner, Sir Robert Norramby, the Earl of Sodor, had finally found the time to pay them a visit.

"Oh, look at you. Aren't you all beautiful. Aren't you lovely!" his effusive voice exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, floating over from behind his engines' obscuring forms. "And so many splendid comments and compliments from our visitors all day yesterday. Whatever you're doing, do please keep it up," he told them.

Lammergeier caught glimpses of the man as he walked down the line, chatting on a more personal level with one of his locomotives after the other. He became especially vocal with Merlin, the engine with three funnels, and to Lammergeier's hearing, they sounded exactly alike, both plummy and more than a little crazy. Still, this was a VIP, as humans went, and the 48 put forth his best effort to be welcoming when Sir Robert eventually came over to look at him and the other Knapford engines.

"And here's our Lambchop in person at last," he enthused. "I've so been looking forward to meeting you! And thank you for lending us your presence this weekend. It's quite the story to have found you and Adi both and reunite you on our little island…really tugs at the old heartstrings."

"Zank you, Sir Robert Norramby, sir. I am pleez to meet you also. Und zank you for vanting me hier. Iz an honour."

"Oh, you are very, very welcome. And I confess I asked Sir Topham to let you come to please the enthusiasts first and foremost. A chance to get up close with a truly authentic example of a very rare class…how often does that happen? Even your brother was modified before he came to us. And our good Hurricane here, and even our Stephen, who's needed his fair share of replacement repairs over the years, alas. But you, you're still exactly as you were fresh off your build, aren't you? That's quite spectacular, considering you came through the thick of a World War…really superb original engineering, I'd say, not to mention a generous dose of luck!"

Lammergeier felt a rare sensation of real pride seep through him, rare in the sense that it was a human's words instigating it. This Sir Robert person might sound a bit whacky and look like a picture book illustration of minor royalty of the rustic aristocrat variety, but he did seem to have a genuine appreciation for good, well-made locomotives and understand something of what made them valuable; he wasn't just a casual collector accumulating engines for collecting's sake. And he did want to share his engines and give them a decent life and a chance to be useful beyond serving as exhibits…Lammergeier had to give him credit for that too. A lot of people owning someone like the Rocket would have simply put him on permanent display as a means of protecting and preserving him. The fact that any locomotive with an ounce of spirit to them would far rather take their chances and accept the risks of doing actual jobs on a working railway over just sitting there and doing nothing whatsoever wouldn't even occur or matter to them.

When the Earl finally moved on, Lammergeier again found himself experiencing something rare, the wish that he could have socialized with a human—and a stranger at that!—just a little while longer…

His own crew arrived only minutes later; in fact, they ran into Sir Robert en route and the three talked for a bit before parting again. Denise and Christophe both seemed happy to see Lammergeier and to find out that he'd met the Earl all on his lonesome and spoken very nicely to him, as per the Earl's own account.

"There's hope for you yet," Denise quipped, while Christophe did a quick walkabout and checked Lammergeier's cab to make sure all was well. It wasn't long before the other crews, Guy's and Hurricane's, showed up too, along with a gaggle of volunteers, and the second half of Ulfstead's big fall exhibition weekend got underway.

Even the meteorological gods sent their blessings that day, for the wonderful weather held, although it proved a touch more blustery and fair-weather cumulus began to pop up by the time the Canadian excursion trains had come and gone. Lammergeier continued to behave himself, although he still spent far too much time looking anywhere but at his visitors, but his crew enjoyed speaking for him and about him so much that it really didn't matter in the end; he looked splendid either way, mute or chatty, and there were plenty of other locos on display who were happy to oblige anyone wanting to converse with an engine. He did well enough that Denise and Christophe decided to entrust him with the volunteers while they both went off to lunch together and came back to find that he'd done nothing worse than gaze serenely off into the distance while ignoring a couple of questions, and that had been easily excused by the language issue. In short, Lammergeier was a hit, but more in spite of himself rather than due to anything he contributed beyond his good looks. Still, it was enough to earn him an early thumbs-up for any display work he might do in the future.

After lunch, a couple of the fair-weather clouds drifting dreamily along on the breeze seemed to sit up and take notice and began packing on the cumulo-pounds. One eventually fizzled out and dissipated. The other grew at an alarming rate and developed its own white swelling turrets and towers, a great, seething heap of convective activity straining towards the heavens, its base growing black and fuzzy, threatening rain. It sailed straight towards the Ulfstead castle grounds and people began edging closer to any available cover and watched the incipient storm uneasily. All the crews and volunteers tending to the display engines also eyed the cloud and got set to bolt into their respective machines' cabs at the first sign of a raindrop.

The cloud went by, directly overhead. A collective, relieved sigh arose in its wake. It continued to billow upward, its individual elements merging together, its upper parts becoming more angry and dark. Then a gleaming white cap appeared to push out of its top, haloed by a hazy brim, just before a flash of light and a deafening rumble announced its transition into a rare, isolated, full-fledged thunderstorm.

The crowds' sigh turned into happy shouts and applause as the thunderhead, now moving safely away, put on its own fireworks display, igniting internally at intervals with the occasional fork of lightning emerging to stab across its boiling exterior. Not a single bolt reached the surface of the earth. The only thing that did was a clearly defined rain shaft, drenching everything within a narrow corridor as the storm drifted slowly along. Impressive sight though it was, such late-season thunderstorms typically didn't last long and it only took a matter of minutes before it had spent itself and began to dissipate in turn.

Adler's distant and distinct whistle drowned out the last little peal of thunder the storm had to offer. A minute more and he whistled again as he rounded the last bend before Ulfstead station and then chuffed slowly next to the same platform he'd used the day before. His flags this time were too sodden to even flap and the engine and his train were dripping wet, but Adler was all smiles nonetheless and he laughed as he came to a stop in a cloud of wheeshing steam.

"Hallo!" he called over to his friends. "Did you get rained on here?"

"No!" Hurricane called back. "It passed right overhead and we thought for sure it would let loose any second. Then as soon as it went by, it turned into a thunderstorm. I guess it got you instead, huh?"

"Yes! Ve drove straight into it and out again. Quite exciting. Like being in a brief vaterfall. I could hear my passengers cheering!"

"Ha ha! Bet they wouldn't have cheered if you had open coaches!"

"No, zat is very true." Adler tried hard to catch a glimpse of his brother further back and switched back to German to speak to him. "Lammergeier? You still with us? Still all right over there?"

"Still fine, Adler. You might want to worry instead about how to better avoid storms in the future."

"Couldn't be helped and no harm done," Adler insisted. "I have a surprise for you onboard today."

"What? Some of our people?"

"You'll see…"

The same two brakemen from the day before plus Adler's fireman, Dieter, again got out and opened up the coaches. Lammergeier watched, not sure of what to expect. Then he noticed something unusual, a man in civilian dress and not a uniform, climbing carefully down out of Adler's cab. The driver, Erich, followed him, also moving with care; he had a stiff knee with limited motion which made him limp a little, although it didn't hurt. The civilian man seemed a little gimpy too. He was using a cane, yet stood tall and erect, an older, elegant-looking gentleman with a shock of snow-white hair, beautifully dressed. Erich waved his hand at Denise, beckoning her, and she hurried over to the pair at once.

Erich said something and the woman and the older gentleman shook hands. Was this the surprise, the man in the cab? It had to be, Lammergeier thought. The other people getting off Adler's train looked like the usual assortment of upper-class tourists, nothing outstanding about them in any way, and the only way one of them would even be allowed to ride in a working engine's cab was if he or she were somehow affiliated with the railway industry or related to someone who was.

The three humans came over to him. Denise and Erich were smiling and the old gentleman was positively beaming, and now that he'd come closer, Lammergeier could see that the stranger had an uncommonly imperious and intelligent mien about him. It made him suddenly wary. He waited for the humans to make the next move.

"Lammergeier, you're not going to believe this," Denise said, speaking in German, "but this gentleman here knows you, although he's quite certain you don't know him. This is Mister Ewald Moderhack. He used to work as your Controller, in Berlin."

"That's right," the old gentleman said, taking the lead. "Hello, Lammergeier. I was your Controller when you and the other 48s first began working the rails and throughout much of the War. I was the one who assigned you and Habicht to the Berlin-Prague-Vienna run."

"Oh," the engine said faintly. He was at a loss, unsure of how to respond. "I am…surprised," he added, the only thing he could think of to say at the moment.

"Not as surprised as I am," the old Controller said. "Until yesterday, I thought Adler was the only 48 still remaining. I was quite overjoyed when they began handing out our excursion train itineraries aboard the ship and I discovered that you were listed among the engines that were expected to be on display here at Ulfstead. Mister Dornwirth here has been telling me your story. I am so, so happy for you, my boy. It is so good to see you in such fine condition and I understand that you've been reunited with your brother and are stabled together again, is this right?"

"Uh. Correct."

"That's wonderful."

"It is wonderful," Denise reiterated, stepping in. She could see that Lammergeier was overcome and thought it was about time that something threw him for a loop. "They're right next to each other in their roundhouse, sir, side by side. They're a great sight together and our own Controller is very proud to have them as part of his railway. He loves that they're so rare and even more so that they're such good, hard workers."

"Yes, I never had a bit of trouble with any of the 48s…very reliable. All you had to do was tell them what you wanted of them and they'd do it. A shame they only made three of them…" Mister Moderhack paused, smiling, then looked at Denise. "But you're something of a rarity yourself, my dear," he continued on. "You're the very first female engine driver I've ever met, and if you're driving one of our 48s, then I can only assume that you're a good one. Have you managed to inspire any other young ladies yet?"

Denise smiled broadly, well pleased by the man's kind remarks. "I think I have, sir," she replied. "I know a couple of girls, sisters, that intend to apply to our railway's apprentice programme. The only reason they haven't yet is because one of them's still a year too young and they want to apply together. There's also an older local girl I know going for her engineering degree, who's decided to specialize in locomotive design and hopefully come back to work in our steamworks eventually."

"Excellent," Mister Moderhack said. "I wouldn't mind seeing something of the same take place at home, but my country is…in a state of flux right now, I fear. Not the best time to be introducing additional change or new ideas…"

He went silent and stood ruminating while Denise and Erich waited patiently. They could only imagine the kinds of memories the old Controller had to sort through, some pleasant enough, hopefully, but there had be many more he'd just as soon forget. Sure enough, his eyes soon went to Lammergeier again, fixating on the locomotive's lovely red and black livery, the bold white horizontal trim line…all the colours of an older Germany. Painted on the engine who was innocent…

The sight of the living machine whom he'd thought lost forever only a day ago brought him comfort anew and gave voice to his thoughts. "You have no idea how pleased I am to see these two safe and in such a good place," he mused, faltering now and then. "They were such a beautiful sight when pulling into the stations wearing their Olympic regalia, one of the few good, pure memories I have of my time spent working in Berlin under Hitler's rule. The three of them were never meant to be war machines. They were built to showcase our locomotive engineers' expertise at the time and to promote sport and culture. That one over there, Adler, I remember riding his train down to Bayreuth for the Ring festival…that's all they were made for, the 48s, to make people happy…"

His voice trailed off and for a minute the old Controller continued to stand there, immersed in reminiscence as he gazed at Lammergeier with wistful eyes. Then he seemed to come out of it.

"Well! Enough of that," he said. "I must go and look at Stephenson's Rocket now. Seeing him is one of the reasons I took this tour."

"Would you like me to accompany you, Mister Moderhack?" Erich offered. "I could make sure you get a ride behind him, if you like, and maybe get a close look at his cab and controls."

"Yes, thank you, I would like that," the old gentleman said, and off the two of them went, both of them limping a little, but still game and spirited. Denise looked after them fondly.

"That was nice…" she remarked. She glanced up at Lammergeier. "You're being rather quiet. Thinking about the old days?"

"Yes," her engine confessed. He drew a deep breath. Meeting his former Controller had sparked more than memories; he felt torn by all sorts of emotions, some of which he didn't want to experience at all. He kept an eye on the two men as they made their way over to Stephen's platform and watched their eventual meeting with the feisty old engine and how both were allowed to step up into his cab for a while and afterwards were ushered into the favoured front seats in Stephen's first coach. Railway people were a close-knit bunch, no matter what country they hailed from, it seemed.

Lammergeier's introspective mood lasted throughout the span of Adler's tour visit. He didn't even care that he never got the chance to say much to his brother and made little effort to interact with anybody. Just before Adler was due to leave, Mister Moderhack came back with Adler's driver and stopped briefly to make his farewells to the woman still standing by Lammergeier's front axels.

"Goodbye, Missus Doyon," he said formally, shaking hands with her again. "It has been a great pleasure to meet you and your locomotive. The two of you were welcome, delightful surprises and I may well see you again next year."

"That sounds lovely and thank you, sir. I'm already looking forward to it. Will you be coming back via another cruise?"

Mister Moderhack smiled. "Nooo, it'll be something a bit more ambitious, I hope. A quick boat ride across the Channel to England, yes, but after that I should like to travel by rail. I've always wanted to ride behind The Flying Scotsman and with a little luck, I'll be able to make a connection in London."

"Oh gosh, yes! And he runs right over onto Sodor to Vicarstown sometimes nowadays!"

"Exactly. Perhaps you'll even be the one to come pick me up. Or our good Mister Dornwirth here."

"Either of us would be honoured to drive for you, sir," Erich said for both himself and his colleague. "And please don't hesitate to let us know that you're coming. I'm sure our own Controller, Sir Topham Hatt, would love to host you."

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind…"

The old Controller lastly turned to Lammergeier, placed a hand on the edge of his running board, and regarded him for a long, long moment.

"Remember your heritage, be a good boy, and serve these people well," he told the engine. "You've been given a second chance and a tremendous opportunity here. Don't waste it."

"Yes, sir," Lammergeier muttered, averting his eyes. Denise raised an eyebrow. What a strange response. She'd never seen him so subdued. The two men walked away, over to Adler, and he wouldn't even watch them go, just kept staring down at his own buffers, his expression solemn. She wound up wondering whether someone like Mister Moderhack mightn't have severely reprimanded Lammergeier in the past and if that was the reason he seemed so affected by the man's parting words.

Adler left in the midst of another beautiful cloud of steam, his flags, now dried, rippling and flowing again. Lammergeier remained quiet for the remainder of the day. Christophe and Denise both figured that he had a lot to think about and they were quite correct, but not for the reasons they might have imagined. Activities wrapped up earlier than they had the day before and the Knapford engines were fired up and allowed to leave right around suppertime. They returned to their shed in the same order in which they'd last left, Hurricane in the lead, the other two trailing.

Justin and Francois had already finished with their trains and gotten back just before the others arrived. That left only Adler and Henry unaccounted for. Lammergeier began watching for his brother as soon as he was settled in his berth. He wanted to compare notes with him about his weekend experiences and badly wanted to talk about the old Controller's visit, which had left him vaguely disturbed.

The two missing engines suddenly appeared, with Henry in the lead. Both were quickly backed into place in turn and their crews stepped out. For a few minutes, the lot of them, all the humans who crewed the two German engines and Henry and Hurricane, loitered around together right in front of their locos, trading greetings and chat and suggestions about how to best wrap up their evening. Lammergeier, irritated by their cheerful chatter and inclination to linger, was tempted to roll forward and bump a couple of them to make them hurry it up. He wanted them all gone and out of sight and earshot before he spoke to Adler. Finally, the humans seemed to come to some sort of decision and began to drift away en masse. Lammergeier sniffed with disgust, still irritated, and turned his attention to his brother.

To his shock, he found him in motion, moving forward towards the turntable still angled for his berth, even though they were all supposed to be finished for the night. Adler chuffed over the platform slowly and turned onto one of the connecting lines; as soon as he had, Lammergeier got a brief, clear look into his cab and was shocked anew to see Denise at his controls. But this was crazy! What possible business could she have taking Adler off on her own? She wasn't even his regular driver anymore. She just filled in on the odd occasion along with Pierre when the Dornwirths were off and unavailable. Lammergeier looked wildly about. Not a single other engine seemed to notice what was happening or to care that his brother was being effectively hijacked.

His apprehension and confusion finally erupted in the form of a querulous outburst directed at his shed-mates at large. "Vere ist my brother and zat human goink?' he demanded.

There was a long silence. The other locos looked surprised. Several of them glanced at one another. Then Henry exclaimed, "Don't you know?"

Lammergeier was feeling far too anxious to bother choosing his words. "If I know, I don't ask, do I?" he snapped back angrily, a retort which prompted an immediate chill to descend upon the roundhouse. Hurricane glared at him.

"Hey-y-y…" the big tank engine admonished in a low growl.

The Canadian trio just looked disappointed.

"Adi and Denise are going off for some private time," Justin finally said in a heavy tone. "The two of them became good friends back when she was his driver. They still like to talk sometimes."

"Your brother loves zhat woman," Francois added. "She is his confidante as well as his friend. Zey will be back after ze sun sets."

Their helpfulness exhausted, the three blue and black locos fell back to chatting softly amongst themselves in French. Even Henry was starting to look annoyed and Hurricane still looked furious. But Lammergeier saw and heard none of it. He was trying to come to terms with what he'd just been told about Adler. Loved her! Oh, he wouldn't be so stupid as that…would he? And why would he need to confide in any human at all? Adler had him, his own brother!

None of his shed-mates said another word to him for the remainder of the evening. Lammergeier didn't care. He was on tenterhooks as he waited for Adler to return, his machine mind roiling with one crazy imagined explanation for his brother's behaviour after another. He was still waiting and thinking his fevered thoughts when the sun set and while the other engines began drifting off to sleep shortly afterwards.

At last, once it was fully dark, Lammergeier heard the weak slow chuff of an engine moving with very little pressure left in its boiler. Adler's indistinct silhouette soon appeared, heading for the turntable. He backed into his berth bit by bit, his steam almost spent, and halted with relief. Lammergeier, his eyes already closed in pretended slumber, listened intently. He heard a few clicks and a soft thump, then a scuffling sound in front of Adler a moment later—Denise, no doubt, scrambling up between his buffers. Lammergeier cracked an eyelid. Yes, there she was. He could just make out her dark form standing next to Adler's lighter face, her own face very close to his, the both of them speaking very softly together so as not to disturb anyone. Lammergeier strained his hearing to its utmost, desperate to overhear anything at all, but it wasn't until the very end of their brief conversation that he suddenly made out the following unmistakable heartfelt exchange:

"Ich liebe dich, meine kleine Lokfuehrerin."

"Ich liebe dich auch, mein stolzer Adler."

"Tschuess…"

"Tschu'…"

Their farewells made, the little human slipped back down over Adler's buffer beam and vanished off into the night. Lammergeier heard his brother sigh, the deep, soughing sound he typically uttered when done for the day and happy and content. Shortly afterwards, his breathing likewise deepened and he fell asleep.

Lammergeier, by contrast, remained awake for over an hour, far too hyped up and trembling with repressed emotion to even consider sleep.

to be continued...