Thanks to RosieAngelina and all others for reviewing, favouriting and ALL THAT FUN STUFF.
And cue the theme!
...
Hey, so I may have accidentally picked up your phone to check to see if that money was coming, turns out, there's some merchandise for you?
Ah, good. For a tram, I presume?
Yeah. What's he got to do with this?
Well, he's in the next episode.
Smashing.
...
Far up in the mountains, where most engines rarely go unless they have to, there is a whole untapped section of the Island. There are places where rails can run and there are precious places that are filled with riches.
But there is one line here. And on that line...is Toby.
Toby is a tram engine. He has cowcatchers (For when he has to become Tobyman, beater of cows) side-plates (For when he wants to look cool) and doesn't look like a steam engine at all. This casual racism aside, he was actually quite a decent engine, even if he had become somewhat of a mad engine with only himself and a single coach to properly talk to. Recently he had taken to wearing a sun hat on his head. Even in winter.
He takes trucks from farms and villages to the main line. When he did this, he was almost never seen by the other engines. This was something that Toby obssessed over to a rather ridiculous degree. But then he had more than enough time. But he was cheerful to everyone he meets. Even the axe-murderers.
He has a coach named Henrietta, who has seen better days. Such as when dinosaurs walked the Earth. She didn't have a face, which was even more puzzling to Toby, as he clearly heard her talking to him. But whenever he talked to her, he got odd looks from many of the workmen.
"Henrietta." He said one day. "Are you just a voice in my head?"
"...What would you like me to answer that with? Because if I say yes, then you'll think I'm lying, and if I say no, you'll ignore me. It's just not fair!" she moaned. "Others get a face, but I don't!" She grumbled a lot, mainly because she remembered when she used to be full, and nine trucks used to rattle behind her.
Toby shrugged as he took the bend, and rang his bell. The Fisherman screamed and fell in the water. Frowning, Toby sighed. This world he lived in was a odd one.
Now there were only three or four trucks, for the farms and factories sent their goods mostly by lorry. Toby was therefore not a big fan of lorries, for they often mocked him. He dealt with mockery the same way he dealt with everything else bad. He repressed it. He is always careful that he doesn't lose his temper and accidentally kill someone.
That had actually been a thought that had gone through his head. Really, Toby could have been a excellent serial killer. The cars, buses and lorries often have unrelated accidents, but Toby prefers to think of it as karma coming down on their heads. Toby hasn't had one for years, not since his driver helped him get through his shed-wetting phase.
The buses are crowded, and Henrietta is empty. Not figuratively, literally. Toby tends to have to console her a lot of nights.
...
"Look, it'll be fine!"
"You said that two years ago."
"Well-"
"And five years before that."
"Uh-"
"And when we first arrived."
"...It'll be fine! We always muddle through! I mean, look at us, look at how well we handle what we've got! Passengers that do show up are always happy, and the trucks never give us that much trouble!"
"Those bloody buses!"
"Come on, Henrietta, there's no cause for concern!"
"...There's something else, Toby. I saw a engine today."
"Wha- Why didn't you say-"
"Because he scared me. A black tank engine rolled up to the station while you were off venting into that shed-"
"The bus cut me off!"
"-and started asking me questions about how long we've been here, how often we get passengers and so on. And then he smiled at me. It was horrible."
"There there, m'dear. I'll be there to help."
"Don't you m'dear me! ...Goodnight."
"Goodnight!"
...
The next morning, both of them woke up bright and early and they arrived at the station of Lower Arlesburgh. There was a lady and a stout gentleman standing there with two children. The Stout Gentleman was apparently taking a right earful from the woman.
"-YOU SAID WE WOULDN'T BE ANYWHERE NEAR ANY BLOODY RAILWAYS! HERE WE ARE, STUCK UP THE MOUNTAIN WITH OUR CAR BLOODY BROKE DOWN!"
"Steady on Sybil!" The Stout Gentleman raised his hands, terrified that the woman may rip off his clothes and bite his ribs out. "It's not my fault Bertie went boom right at the moment we stopped." The two children looked bored, and Toby looked from side to side to see if there was anyway to leave. Of course, he was the Fat Controller, but Toby didn't know that yet.
"YOU AND THAT TRAMP OF YOURS-"
"NOW JUST A MINUTE! WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A NICE HOLIDAY WITH OUR GRANDCHILDREN BEFORE WE SEPARATE, SO-" The Fat Controller paused mid rant, as he smoothed out his casual wear of blue jacket, green shirt and relaxing sunhat.
"Come on grandpa!" cried the children. Stephen and Bridget Hatt were the grandchildren of Sir Topham, and were currently aware that their grandfather was beginning to look like a balloon pricked by a pin cushion. "Look at this engine!"
Toby swelled with pride.
"That's a tram engine, Stephen!" said Sir Topham, pleased to be able to one up his soon to be ex-wife. "He's probably very rare!"
"Is it electric?" asked Bridget, bluntly.
Toby's pride deflated. "PAH!" He snapped, never usually this rude, but being compared to electric engines was a bit like being compared to a unicorn.
"Sssh, sssh!" hissed her brother. "You've offended him!" Toby warmed to Stephen immediately, for despite his differences, he was still a engine who had some pride left in being one of the last of his kind.
"But trams are electric! Aren't they?"
"They are mostly. But this is a steam tram!" Lady Sybil Hatt, a haughty woman with the ability to make Topham feel very small very quickly, harumphed.
"May we go in it please?!" whined both children. Sybil glared at him. Topham faltered, then rallied. If he didn't stand up now-
"STOP! THAT! TRAIN!" The guard jumped a foot in the air. Topham smiled. "Well see, now there's some benefits to doing what I do."
"Shut up, Topham." growled Sybil, as they clambered on.
...
"Hooray!" chanted Henrietta. "I've got people inside me!" She waited for the snarky comeback from Toby, who was never one to pass up a oppurtunity to make fun of her double entendre. But Toby was still literally steaming.
"ELECTRIC, indeed! ELECTRIC, indeed!" He fumed. He felt very hurt, and no matter how much Henrietta cosetted and even mocked him, he didn't snap out of until he reached the station again.
The children got off, ran forward and thanked him profusely, and Toby couldn't help but grin and thank them back. Sybil snorted and turned towards the car haughtily. Sir Topham walked up.
"What's your name?" he asked curiously.
"Toby sir."
"Thanks Toby. Nice ride." Toby's eyes whirled. "Okay, okay, don't go OTT."
"Thank you sir!" said Toby, feeling much better.
...
As they traveled the rails one last time that day, Toby was enthusiastic once more. "This gentleman!" he told Henrietta. "Knows how to treat a engine!"
"Yes! Massage their egos." Both laughed as they passed the windmill. They looked around for the blue engine who supposedly passed this windmill quite a bit, but there was no sign of him.
"See, I told you things would be looking up!"
"Yes Toby, but one day..."
"Yes?"
"One day they won't. What will we do then?"
Toby did not answer.
For the next fortnight, the children came to seem Toby. Sometimes they rode with the guard, who was so tired that he usually fell asleep and left the Fat Controller and his grandchildren to handle the van. And sometimes, they sat in empty trucks, where they would sing songs. Songs that would make your ears burn. Hatt was not entirely convinced that Sybil hadn't taught the kids that to make him feel awkward and explain to his children personally why they were like this. But Toby was adoring it.
On the last day of all, they were invited into the cab. Even as the kids messed about, Toby was enjoying himself. So when they reached the station, he was suddenly jolted back to reality.
All of them were sorry when they had to go away. The Fat Controller's guards were there to escort Lady Sybil off to her new home, and to the tabloid journalists there waiting her life story. As she left, Toby began to very quietly cry.
The Fat Controller and his family thanked the driver, fireman and Toby very much. At last, Toby rang his bell forlornly. "Come again soon" he cried weakly.
"We will! We will!" cried the children as Toby drove off with Henrietta. They waved until Toby was out of sight.
The tram engine stayed silent throughout the day.
...
"Toby?"
"..."
"Toby please answer me."
"...What?"
"Are you okay?"
"...Look, what I'm about to say will come across as rude, but I genuinely don't mean it."
"Okay."
"I...It's not easy, m'dear, being up here on my own. Even if the company is one of the best, sometimes I like having other friends. They were nice. I liked them. It made me feel like the old days again. Like I could talk to someone who I haven't been talking to for years."
"I get it. You need other engines."
"I do. But where are we going to get them from?"
...
Months passed.
Toby had fewer and fewer trains. And one by one, even his trucks were removed. Fewer passengers bothered to show up. Even less than the few they had. And all the while Henrietta was disturbed by that smile, brittle but like a limpet, clinging to Toby's face despite the fact that everything was slowly, grinding to a halt.
"Our last day." said his driver sadly one morning. "The manager says we must close tomorrow." He climbed into the cab, along with his fireman.
"Toby?" Henrietta asked in concern. "Toby please say something."
The look of crushed defeat transformed quickly into that smile. "Show must go on." Toby said in the most brokenly cheerful voice ever.
That day, everyone wanted the chance of a last ride. The passengers joked and sang, but Toby and his driver wished they wouldn't. He rang his bell one last time, and slowly started.
Every old place they saw, Toby saw fading away, like mist was covering over it. He saw what remained of his line vanish, as if seeing it for the very last time. His smile stayed on, but Henrietta could see how heart-breaking this was for Toby.
"Goodbye Toby." said the passengers. "We are sorry your line is closing down."
"So am I." said Toby, staring dead ahead. "But then you didn't come before, when we needed you." The passengers shifted uncomfortably. Toby clicked his tongue. "Henrietta...take care. Find someone else. Be the best coach to them as you were to me. And thank you, m'dear. Thank you so...so very much."
"Toby, wait! I don't want to go without you! I WON'T GO!"
Toby drove off quickly before he broke down completely. He made it around the bend and let out a anguished wail that shook the very valley. The passengers stared at each other, and then at their feet. Slowly, they moved away.
Henrietta stared after Toby. "I'll wait." She whispered. "I'll wait for you."
...
"Nobody wants me." Toby thought aloud. The driver and fireman looked sadly at him, then closed the door, and left for the very last time. Toby stood there for a bit, and then went unhappily to sleep.
Engines can sleep forever, if they so wish.
But Toby didn't get that chance.
The next morning, the shed door was flung open and his driver danced in waving a piece of paper. Toby started. "Wha-"
"TOBY!" shouted the driver in delight. "WAKE UP AND LISTEN TO THIS! It's a letter from the Stout Gentleman!"
Toby felt his face fill with a smile so strong that a ox would have been jealous. Toby listened and...
Well. I dare not say more, or it will spoil the next story.