Chapter Text
It was a balmy summer evening when Moominmama and Moominpapa set out from Moominhouse. In Mama’s typical fashion, their traveling basket had been packed to near bursting with gifts and snacks. It swayed heavily at her elbow, tinkling softly whenever jam jars rolled against each other. As the two stepped off the porch, Moominpapa had a sudden thought, bidding Mama to wait outside while he retrieved something from the house. He hobbled back out moments later, clutching the old record player beneath one arm and pressing the other hand to his lower back. Pains from housework lingered more with Papa as of late, and so the two set a leisurely pace as they walked, unoccupied arms linked for the journey.
Moominvalley was quiet beneath the buttery moon. Moominmama and Moominpapa’s figures were pinpricks of white against the valley’s grassy knolls, which rolled beneath them as they travelled. With just the two of them, Moominmama and Moominpapa fell into a familiar exchange of theirs, one where they swapped stories from the past. It was easy conversation, and the kind that could bob and weave as much as it liked without losing its speakers. With so many years between them, they never had want for memories.
The warm air was as soothing as bath water, as if it were cushioning their steps and softening the edges of their vision. In this gentle moment, they were drawn to the best of memories that they had, so many of which featured Moomin at the center. As they entered the forest, Moominmama recalled a time when the gentle flow of Moominvalley had lept beyond its boundaries and followed an unexpected path.
“Can you believe how long its been since Moomin moved out, Papa?”
“I was thinking the very same thing, dear. Almost hard to remember when we first caught on to his plans,” Moominpapa said with a smile.
Moominmama remembered it well. The memory felt especially appropriate for the night, and so the two spoke in gentle tones and hushed laughter, speaking into the darkness their memories of when Moomin first began his work on the cottage.
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The way Moominmama had always seen it, chaos and excitement, sudden whims and desires, adventures and mysteries - all of these were like machinery in the steady clockwork of Moominvalley. Without these peaks one couldn’t really see the calm valleys, and similarly, without Moomin and the other children getting into trouble with a monster for accidentally stealing his treasure, Moominhouse couldn’t have as grand of dinners when the ordeal was sorted out. The children’s activities were an especially accurate monitor of when the tides would move, and Moominmama could often sight a change on the horizon when one of them began to behave differently. And so, when Moomin first started disappearing for long hours, leaving the house often before even Moominpapa was up, and coming home in the gloom of twilight, Moominmama didn’t think much of it. Moomin wasn’t the first of the household to have a secret project; indeed secret projects were a right that both Moominmama and Moominpapa knew must be given. Still, the two couldn’t help but wonder about his activities, and as the days turned into weeks and then into months of Moomin working in the forest, Moominmama and Moominpapa’s curiosity grew. Moomin had approached them both separately to ask their opinions on what stones worked best for walls, how much sunlight certain herbs needed to grow, and the likes, trusting their advice even in his secrecy. These hints at his work seemed too vast to give his parents any indication of what exactly he was up to.
Oddly enough, as Moomin’s presence in the house lessened, Snufkin’s became double that of his normal comings and goings. Snufkin wasn’t usually one to stay indoors for very long without a reason, often choosing the open air of the porch for lounging with the elder Moomins, or for making conversation with the others. Now, he came to Moominhouse nearly everyday, bringing fish for Moominmama to cook up, or exchanging bits of news with Moominpapa at the kitchen table. When he and Moomin’s odd schedules overlapped, they spent it together, hands folded over the other’s as they spoke under the elm tree, or laughing together as Moomin blew mismatched notes from Snufkin’s harmonica. Most of the time, however, Snufkin came to Moominhouse alone.
Strangest of all was that Snufkin seemed to hover in waiting for someone who needed help around the house, jumping at any chance to be of assistance. Whenever Moominmama needed a special ingredient for her meals, one that would take her far from home, Snufkin would offer his presence on the journey. The moment Moominpapa fell into a writing slump, Snufkin would be there to lend an ear and a gentle critique. Snufkin even played with Little My when she demanded his attention, though more than once this devolved into Little My forcing him to lie on the ground while she practiced tricks over him with her wooden skateboard.
Snufkin’s increased involvement at Moominhouse wouldn’t have caused much worry if it wasn’t for the fervent energy that he brought with this goodwill. Where normally Snufkin’s help would boil up slowly from a place of experience, now he seemed unnaturally eager to relieve the Moomins of their burdens, often before even knowing the exact problem. If Moominmama didn’t know better she would think Snufkin had an end goal in all this, but Snufkin wasn’t the type, and she could hardly imagine him having a motive that wasn’t ultimately related to Moomin. Seeing as Moomin was nowhere to be found in all this, Moominmama chalked it up to one of the many movements of the times. If Snufkin wanted to spend more time at Moominhouse, then the Moomins would accept him with open arms, though Little My teased him endlessly about it.
Understanding struck Moominmama while replotting a flower from the Hemulan’s in her garden one day. As she was patting dirt down inside a planter, she spotted Mymble and the Police Inspector out for a walk. Their heads leaned together as they spoke and their knuckles brushed with each step. Moominmama smiled at the sight. Like a cannon going off, the front door of Moominhouse burst open, and Little My came bounding out. She made a beeline past Moominmama, and threw herself at her sister and the Police Inspector. From her place in the garden, Moominmama could only hear snippets of their conversation, but she could see the Inspector’s good-natured smile, could recognize perhaps why he motioned for Little My to join them, though he must have known that she would terrorize them the entire time. Yes, Mama thought to herself, a smitten heart will always look for acceptance from those closest to its beloved, silly as it may be. Something about the thought caught in Moominmama’s mind.
“Oh!” she gasped, flinging dirt as her hands flew up to her mouth. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed her outburst, and then did a double-take for Moominpapa. Not seeing him, she threw off her gardening gloves and hurried inside.
Moominpapa was seated at the kitchen table, having a cup of coffee. Moominmama approached him in excitement.
“Papa, I must tell you something! I think I’ve figured out what Snufkin’s been up to.”
Moominpapa sat his cup down, surprised by his wife’s energy.
“Oh have you, Mama? And what is it that you think?”
“Well, the two have always been so close, as you know.”
Moominpapa nodded.
“I mean, Moomin is so, so fond of Snufkin.”
“Yes dear, I’ve noticed.”
Moominmama fluttered her hands, continuing as if Moominpapa hadn’t spoken.
“And I suppose Snufkin has always been just as fond of Moomin! He can be so hard to read, but well - maybe that’s not true! I think back to how they behave around the other, and I can’t help but think it’s been obvious all along! I know they’re different from each other, but they get along so well, and always put the other first, and I - ”
Moominpapa put a gentle hand on Moominmama’s arm, coaxing her into the seat beside him. “Mama, you’re working yourself up quite a lot. What’s this all about?”
“Oh, Papa,” Moominmama said, voice thick with emotion, “I’m sure that Snufkin is in love with Moomin. I think he’s trying to...to win our favor.”
Moominpapa nodded in thought, chin tucked into his palm. He stopped to sip his coffee, then spoke.
“Hm, yes, I agree.”
Moominmama stared at him, eyes shiny.
“You’re not surprised?”
“Well no, not particularly. It’s just as you said, it’s been a little obvious.”
Moominmama nodded resolutely, beginning to collect herself.
“And...what do you think of Moomin?”
“Oh, he’s been head over heels for Snufkin for as long as I can remember.”
Moominmama looked at her husband in awe, and the two sat in silence for a moment, until Moominpapa patted Mama’s hand on the table, and Mama turned it over for him to hold.
“How could I not have noticed?” Moominmama sighed, “The heartache they’ve probably felt...what can we do, Papa?”
Moominpapa chuckled.
“I don’t think we need to worry about Moomin and Snufkin, dear. All things in due time, as they say. And I would bet that Moomin has something up his sleeve with this mysterious project. All we can do is wait here for them when they’re ready.”
Moominmama and Moominpapa sat together in the newness of the moment, a world so familiar transforming before their eyes. Moominmama’s heart felt full to burst. She knew she could trust them. But how to approach Snufkin’s efforts? How could they possibly show someone who was already so much a part of their family that he was accepted, loved in any form he took?
The next day found Moominmama sitting on the porch with a pitcher of lemonade. Moomin was of course nowhere to be seen, but Moominpapa and the rest of the children had slowly filtered over and found resting spots of their own, filling glasses that Mama handed out to them. Moominmama’s attention passed in and out of the card game that had started up between her husband and Snufkin, catching the tail end of a comment of Snufkin’s.
“...and not many of my recipes are very complex, which suits me.”
Moominpapa set a card down and scratched under his hat.
“Well that’s all well and good for a vagabond, of course. But wouldn’t you like to make yourself something nice every once in a while?”
Ah, so they were talking about cooking. Moominmama thought over the conversation, and inspiration came to her.
“Snufkin, would you like to learn a recipe of mine?”
Snufkin turned to her.
“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed, Mama.”
Moominmama instructed Snufkin to come back to Moominhouse that evening with his cookware and fresh salmon. Little My and Sniff’s eyes watched them in curiosity, but they made no move to follow. After Snufkin was set up with water boiling in his pot, Moominmama turned to him with a conspiratorial smile.
“Okay, Snufkin. Now, I’ve never shared this with anyone else. Not even Mrs. Fillyjonk, when she came asking for it. This is one of my grandmother’s fish soup recipes, great for settling the stomach, and for chasing away the cold. I make it for Moomin and Moominpapa in the Fall, when the evenings start getting very chilly.
Snufkin smiled at her tone, but he had turned his face away as she spoke, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“Well Moominmama, I appreciate you sharing this with me. But this seems very special to you. Wouldn’t you rather teach it to Moomin? Or to ah, his children, someday?”
Moominmama laid a gentle hand at Snufkin’s elbow, drawing his attention back to her.
“You’re right Snufkin, this recipe is very special to me, and to the family. I want you to be the one to learn it.”
Snufkin’s expression was nearly stricken for a moment, but quickly melted into a gentle smile. Moominmama’s heart swelled.
“Besides, Moomin has become so used to eating it, I don’t see how he could ever go without by this point. I know he likes to think he’s a grand adventurer, but he’s a troll of domestic comforts if I ever knew one.”
Snufkin gave a soft laugh, staring at a point somewhere on the stove.
“He is. Thank you, Moominmama,” he said gently, and Moominmama understood the layers of that gratitude.
And so Snufkin’s overeagerness subsided, though he was always willing to lend a helping hand, when appropriate. Moomin’s journeys into the forest slowed down until he was only spending a couple of full days away from the rest of them. He still scribbled furiously at a notebook that Moominpapa had sighted around the house, and when Moomin and Snufkin sat leaned against one another in the grass, shoulders pressed together, they sometimes had that notebook between them. Once, Moominpapa had glimpsed a skeletal drawing of a building on one of its pages. This stirred such a strong interest in Moominpapa - and such a desire to be of help! - that he almost called out to the two as he watched them puzzling over its pages one day. If he could just walk the distance between the porch and them and let them know that he would assist them in building - but looking at the two, whispering over the notebook and pointing to its pages, he knew that this must be theirs alone, to keep or to share.
As it turned out, Moominpapa didn’t have to wait long to find out the contents of that notebook. One evening, Moomin approached Moominpapa from the forest. He had the notebook in hand, and was covered in sweat and dirt. He was clearly exhausted, nearly falling over on his feet where he stood in front of Moominpapa, who watched his son expectantly. When Moomin spoke, his voice was a sad rasp.
“Papa, I’m building a house for Snufkin and me. I’m having a lot of trouble. Can you help me?”
Moominpapa made a show of thinking for a moment, trying and failing to mask his excitement.
“Well, I’ll have to see what needs to be helped. But let’s see what we can do, son.”
The next day the two set off early for the house, hidden away in the forest. They walked from dirt trail to dirt trail, until their feet landed on a grassy path, pressed down in places by two previous sets of footprints. The dense trees made the world quiet around them, and the sunlight that filtered down from above illuminated pockets of the forest. Moomin called back over his shoulder, “sorry that it’s a little out of the way! Snufkin’s going to put lanterns up so that we don’t have to have fences or signs to show the way. You know how he feels about private property!”
Moominpapa marvelled at how far his son had gotten with just him and Snufkin. The cottage was tucked away within the dense trees, one story from the look of it. It was nothing at all like the first house Moomin had built, and while it was far from finished, Moominpapa could see the thought and love that had been put into every detail. He made a quick gibe about the shape of the house, nothing at all like a stove, as a Moomin house ought to be, but he said it with his arm around his son’s shoulders. Moominpapa was proud beyond words.
Looking around some more, Moominpapa saw that Moomin had planted a variety of flowers and herbs at the front clearing, as if he had needed something to do when he got stuck in his work. Moominpapa could glimpse a backyard clearing through the scant structure of the house, and found that it looked to be just large enough for housing a small party. He made a note to himself to bring one of his and Mama’s outdoor tables over when the cottage was finished. There was perhaps even room for dancing, if they cleared away some shrubbery, and when he squinted, he could see light catching on water in the distance, behind the trees. Yes, this could prove to be the perfect place for the two.
After about a month of working on the house together, Moominpapa, Moomin, and Snufkin enlisted the help of the Snork, and then of Mr. Hemulen, then the Police Inspector, until eventually friends and members of Moominhouse alike were called to help when their expertise was needed. Alicia’s grandmother even allowed her to use her broom so that they could begin work on the chimney. When Winter came around, work ground to a stand-still as Snufkin traveled and the others slept. Moomin had gotten into the habit of waking up about halfway through Winter, and this year when he did, he found Too-ticky waiting for him at the cottage. Her help that Winter was especially dear to Moomin, as were her reminders that the cottage needn’t be perfect to be home.
As the house took form over the years, Sniff, Snorkmaiden, and Little My all experienced their first sojourns away from Moominvalley. Snorkmaiden left on a trip with the Snork for an inventor’s convention one year, and while everyone could see she was sad to part with Moominvalley, there had been a perpetual sigh on her lips then, and the beginnings of a far off look in her eyes. While they were away Snorkmaiden wrote to Moominhouse about her experiences in the city; beautiful fruit tree lined walkways where lovers held hands and strolled in the evenings, posh cafes where one could buy as many pancakes as they wanted and sit all day, simply reading and watching the clouds drift by. At a musical she and Snork had made acquaintances with their boothmates, who knew a few of the singers. After the show they dined with their new friends, and Snorkmaiden wrote extensively about one young singer. As Sniff read the letter out loud to the living room, Moominmama glanced over at Moomin from her place in the kitchen, but Moomin’s smile was open and genuine as he listened, turning over the thick fantasy collection she had sent him as a gift.
Little My’s time came as somewhat of an accident, when she had stayed up through hibernation and tried to follow Snufkin south. When questioned about this later, she simply said she had been curious, and that answer was sufficient for everyone. On her way south, several days behind Snufkin, she had gotten lost, and proceeded to find her way to warm weather in an entirely different direction. She encountered a band of thieves, ghoulish forest spirits, researchers conducting fieldwork at a strange rock formation, and one particularly lovesick sea monster, but being as small as she was, was never in any real danger. So extensive were her travels that she didn’t return to Moominvalley until well into Spring, when the rest of her friends and family had already woken up from hibernation and began searching for her, day and night. Little My could be a handful, but Moominvalley hadn’t realized until that year how full of life the valley was with her in it.
Even faint-hearted Sniff had his own adventure. When a group of traveling salesman, exuding wealth and charisma, blew into town, Sniff was immediately taken in by their lifestyle. In a rare act of courage, Sniff hid in the back of one of their caravans one night, hoping to learn their trade. The next morning when he peeked his head out of the canvas where he had slept, Sniff saw the salesmen trading hats and applying new labels to their wares for the next town over. As it turned out, the salesmen were quite crooked, and while Sniff did try his hand at the business, he found the money he had made wasn’t worth how dishonest he felt. On the ride that he hitched back to Moominvalley, Sniff had a brief stay in a farming village. There, he worked for a time as a farmhand for an older couple and their daughter, who Sniff still wrote to from time to time. The few coins he made from that stay were hid away in his burrow now, and for once, that bit was enough.
During these and their many other trips, Moominmama and Moominpapa knew that there was always a chance that one of them wouldn’t come back, and that instead they would settle down after their long journey in whatever part of the world they had landed. After all, Moominmama and Moominpapa themselves had done just that. No one should be bound to the place of their birth, even if they leave their family behind. While a few children stayed away for longer than others, such as Snorkmaiden who came and went quite frequently after her first adventure (and of course Little My, who had far too much energy to remain completely sedentary), they would all find time to gather together in Moominhouse on occasion. In the flurry of their changing lives, it didn’t go unnoticed that Moomin had never made a solitary journey, despite being the most taken to exploration and tales of adventure. Moominmama and Moominpapa expected that this was due to the cottage, nearly finished but not quite habitable yet. Even so, there was an air of anticipation around Moomin, and his parents reminded themselves that they must simply be there for him. Whatever gentle rise he was working toward, they would wait expectantly for the surprise.
Moominmama thought that that time had come when Moomin asked to speak to her alone one evening. Moomin sat heavily at the kitchen table once the door had closed, and with little preamble, he said, “Mama, I’m no longer in a relationship with Snorkmaiden.”
Moominmama dried her hands on a towel, carefully choosing her words.
“Yes dear, I’ve noticed. I didn’t think she would leave without you if you were. Do you want to tell me about it?”
Moominmama watched Moomin out of the corner of her eye, where he sat resolutely at the kitchen table, staring down at his interlocked fingers. Moominmama would have found it all a bit sweet if not for Moomin’s pained expression. She turned fully toward him and lowered herself to the chair across from him.
“Well, there’s not much to say, really...Snorkmaiden is one of my very best friends, and will always be. We were so young when we decided to be sweethearts, I don’t think we realized that we were just seeing what we thought we ought to want in each other. And I would have been happy to spend my life with her, if it was what I thought was best”
Moominmama nodded, surprised at how level Moomin’s tone was, how thoughtful he seemed. She had watched him grow older in front of her, but only glimpsed changes beneath the surface when they spoke together like this, as adults do.
“...I would like you and Papa to know that Snorkmaiden isn’t at fault. I want to make sure that she’ll always have a place here.”
Moominmama sat up straighter, not anticipating this turn. Folding her hands to mirror her son, she started, “Sweetheart, you have no need to worry about what Papa and I think. Of course Snorkmaiden is welcome in Moominhouse, and she will always be a dear member of our family. But more than anything I want you to be happy.”
Moomin smiled, just slightly.
“And dear, you know best who makes you happy. It’s not my place to approve or disapprove of anyone you love. However, you must know by now that I adore Snufkin.”
Moomin made a startled sound, hands unfolding in surprise. Before he could speak, Moominmama rounded the table and swept him up in a hug, pressing his head to her shoulder. Moomin paused for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her back.
One Fall day, not long after that night, Moominhouse found themselves all together for pancakes and lemonade. Moomin and Snufkin had been exchanging glances for the better part of the morning, and when they asked for the house’s attention, the request came of little surprise.
“We have something to tell all of you,” Moomin said. “I’m coming with Snufkin this Winter.”
Moominmama’s heart sank for a moment, though she smiled and made sure to look delighted for Moomin. They were building the cottage, why would they leave? Surely Moomin and Snufkin weren’t started their life together as vagabonds, the both of them? She knew the thoughts was silly, but the fear of Moomin leaving for good came upon her more strongly than she had anticipated. She had to trust them.
“Oh, well what good fun that will be, Moomin!” Papa said, meeting Mama’s eyes over the table. He continued, “but er, is this an extended trip, or can we expect you back in Spring?”
The rest of the room watched Moomin and Snufkin eye each other.
“We’ll be back in Spring,” Snufkin confirmed. “I have a lot of places to show Moomin”
Moomin nodded excitedly.
“I’m not planning any big trips after this! I want to keep working on the house, so we just have to see as much as we can this Winter. And of course we would love to bring the rest of you! Maybe someday! This time will just be...special” Moomin left off on a slightly uncomfortable chuckle. From the couch, Little My let out a groan.
“Whatever. You guys going off on an adventure, just the two of you? It’s so romantic that it’s disgusting.”
“Little My, come on!” Moomin stomped one foot, a child all over again
“No, she’s right,” Snorkmaiden sighed dreamily, palms to her face. “It almost sounds like a secret engagement.”
All eyes swiveled to Snorkamiden this time. The ensuing silence was notably devoid of any denial from Moomin or Snufkin. Realizing this, the room erupted in conversation.
“Moomin! I could have been your best man!” Sniff whined. Snorkmaiden nodded, her bangs flopping in her face.
“And I could have made your flower arrangements! You know I did them for my own wedding!”
Snufkin eyed the door as if he were considering the best way to slip away without being noticed. Moomin slid a hand into his palm, speaking above the chatter.
“We would have brought you all, honestly!”
Snufkin nodded, looking a little more present with Moomin’s hand in his. As the house settled down, he spoke.
“Moomin’s telling the truth. We wanted to bring everyone, but it’s very far, and the way is quite dangerous. We didn’t want to put you all through that for a ceremony that would be over in moments.”
“...and we weren’t sure how it would go over here in Moominvalley,” Moomin added quietly.
The room was silent for a moment, before Moominpapa moved to stand beside Snufkin.
“Well, I think we can all understand the need for this adventure, and I’m sure you two have planned this for quite some time. Even if we can’t be there, we’ll have a feast waiting for the two of you when you’re home, rest assured!”
All of Moominhouse agreed, already making plans for who would cook what, and who would decorate.
And when Moomin and Snufkin returned, they did have a feast - a Spring celebration that encompassed all of Moominvalley, lasting from a cool midday breeze into the loud laughter of midnight. Though the members of Moominhouse were the only ones who explicitly knew the occasion, many of the inhabitants of Moominvalley brought gifts for Moomin and Snufkin. Mr. Hemulen gifted Snufkin an old but still quite sharp filleting knife of his own (knowing that Snufkin would never accept something brand new), Snork gave them both a model ship whose propellers worked as an indoor fan, and even Mrs. Fillyjonk had the forethought to give them something practical: a mop and bucket. In addition to the dishware and a few pieces of furniture, the two collected gifts so thoughtful and suited to them that even Snufkin, loathe to hold onto anything that wasn’t a necessity, accepted them gladly.
At the end of the night, Moominmama, Moominpapa, and the rest of Moomin and Snufkin’s friends led them to the cottage, where during the Winter they had woken up early from hibernation to put down the rest of their wooden flooring as well as to install their kitchen fixtures, finishing the cottage. Moominmama and Moominpapa hadn’t been sure if this was the best idea, but Little My, Snorkmaiden, and Sniff had insisted that the two wouldn’t mind if their work was done when they came home. And indeed, Moomin and Snufkin were speechless when they saw their home, before turning to profusely thank everyone. Goodbye hugs were given all around, and though Snufkin still balked a bit at the physical affection, he knew how important it was to the others to be able to give, moreso than the gifts. Moominmama pecked him and Moomin on the cheeks, Moominpapa shook both their hands, and in a flurry, everyone was gone, and the two were home.
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Moominmama and Moominpapa had been walking on the dirt walkway as they tossed memories back and forth, filling in each other’s sentences as they spoke. They recalled many of their favorite moments leading up to Moomin and Snufkin’s home being finished, but there were of course memories that had faded with time, and memories that were Moomin and Snufkin’s alone. Finishing on that Spring celebration, they walked in silence for a bit, both feeling nostalgic. As they drew nearer to the grassy paths that led to the cottage, flowers growing at its edges and onto the dirt walkway, they spotted Mr. Hemulin walking toward them.
“Mr. Hemulin! Hello!” Moominpapa called. Mr. Hemulin waved as he drew closer.
“Ah, Moominmama, Moominpapa. Good evening.”
“So good to see you, Mr. Hemulin. Are you out for a walk tonight? We’re off to Moomin and Snufkin’s, if you’d like to join us,” Moominmama said.
“Oh no, I’m actually just coming back from their house, you see. I stopped by to drop off a couple of old botany books. Enjoy your night, the other children are there now.”
They waved goodbye to the Hemulin, and from the forest came the sounds of laughter and Snufkin’s harmonica. Looking down the lantern-lit path, a sliver of the cottage could be seen, and in that image was Moomin holding open the door and looking down at Snufkin, seated on the porch with harmonica to his mouth, looking back at Moomin.