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Description
Old age does a great deal of things to engines. They tell stories to many of the younger engines and the people who were not around for many of their escapades. Some were exciting. Some were full of heart. And some, were heartbreaking...

But all his years of experience could not prepare Edward for what he was about to see as he was coming down with a goods train to Crock's scrapyard.

"What the..." he gasped as tears began to well up in his eyes. It couldn't be real, could it?

"Edward," said a soft voice. The blue engine glanced over to see a familiar maroon radical tank engine.

"Adam..." Edward gulped. "You... you're..."

"It's not just me," sighed Adam. Edward felt his breath catch in his smokebox when he saw three more shapes - a tank engine from Peckett and Sons, and two box tanks.

"Colin, Roger, Clive..." his voice began to shake. "You four were..."

"It's over old friend," sobbed Clive. "That Arthur Spencer forced the Fat Director's hand."

"W-we got to stop this!" cried Edward. "I'm sure we can save you. The Fat Director saved Neil-"

"There's nothing we can do, Edward," sighed Colin. "You and the others are going to have to manage without us."

"But-"

"No buts, Edward," said Roger. "Who'd want us now? We're just worth a pile of scrap metal. We're too old."

"Engines say I'm old but I don't care!" retorted Edward. "And you lot are just as useful now as you were then. And Emily's still running."

"You're much younger than us, Edward," sighed Adam. "And as for Emily, she's the only engine running the Norramby branchline. She got lucky in that regard."

"Besides, that Arthur Spencer is no good," added Colin. "If you try to save us, we'll just be sent right back here."

"Continue to run the North Western Railway as best you can, Edward," added Roger. "Be a North Western Engine at his best, and please tell the others to do the same."

Edward shut his eyes tightly, trying to picture a railway without the engines who were fundamental to the construction of the basis of the North Western Railway. The thought stung him more than any scrapper's torch that could cut through his metal. But he knew Colin had a point.

"... Alright." he sighed. "We'll do our best to manage. But on behalf of all of us, please know that you'll be forever missed. Roger, Clive, Colin and Adam... may you all find peace, wherever you may be."

The guard blew his whistle, and Edward puffed away, crying all the way back to Wellsworth.

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Sodor the Early/Modern Years, Colin, Adam - wildnorwester

Description
Old age does a great deal of things to engines. They tell stories to many of the younger engines and the people who were not around for many of their escapades. Some were exciting. Some were full of heart. And some, were heartbreaking...

But all his years of experience could not prepare Edward for what he was about to see as he was coming down with a goods train to Crock's scrapyard.

"What the..." he gasped as tears began to well up in his eyes. It couldn't be real, could it?

"Edward," said a soft voice. The blue engine glanced over to see a familiar maroon radical tank engine.

"Adam..." Edward gulped. "You... you're..."

"It's not just me," sighed Adam. Edward felt his breath catch in his smokebox when he saw three more shapes - a tank engine from Peckett and Sons, and two box tanks.

"Colin, Roger, Clive..." his voice began to shake. "You four were..."

"It's over old friend," sobbed Clive. "That Arthur Spencer forced the Fat Director's hand."

"W-we got to stop this!" cried Edward. "I'm sure we can save you. The Fat Director saved Neil-"

"There's nothing we can do, Edward," sighed Colin. "You and the others are going to have to manage without us."

"But-"

"No buts, Edward," said Roger. "Who'd want us now? We're just worth a pile of scrap metal. We're too old."

"Engines say I'm old but I don't care!" retorted Edward. "And you lot are just as useful now as you were then. And Emily's still running."

"You're much younger than us, Edward," sighed Adam. "And as for Emily, she's the only engine running the Norramby branchline. She got lucky in that regard."

"Besides, that Arthur Spencer is no good," added Colin. "If you try to save us, we'll just be sent right back here."

"Continue to run the North Western Railway as best you can, Edward," added Roger. "Be a North Western Engine at his best, and please tell the others to do the same."

Edward shut his eyes tightly, trying to picture a railway without the engines who were fundamental to the construction of the basis of the North Western Railway. The thought stung him more than any scrapper's torch that could cut through his metal. But he knew Colin had a point.

"... Alright." he sighed. "We'll do our best to manage. But on behalf of all of us, please know that you'll be forever missed. Roger, Clive, Colin and Adam... may you all find peace, wherever you may be."

The guard blew his whistle, and Edward puffed away, crying all the way back to Wellsworth.

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Sodor the Early/Modern Years, Colin, Adam - wildnorwester