Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This day the spring had decided not to be poetical but simply cheerful. It had spread flocks of small scatterbrained clouds in the sky, it swept down the last specks of snow from every roof, it made new little brooks run everywhere and was playing at April the best it could.

 ‘I’m awake!’ cried the Snork Maiden expectantly. Moomintroll kindly brushed his snout against hers and said: ‘Happy spring!’ At the same time he wondered whether he would ever be able to tell her about his winter so that she’d understand it.” –Moominland Midwinter

The spring after Moomintroll was first unable to hibernate through winter was the spring that he came to realize quite a few new things about himself. For example, he learned that he really did enjoy spending time alone. He learned from Too-Ticky that one could find beauty and fun even in dreadful situations like snow. He learned that even when he thought his love for Moominmama couldn’t grow any more, it did.

Perhaps the biggest realization of them all however concerned his relationship with Snorkmaiden. After greeting her he suspected it, and some time later after a silly disagreement about a budding crocus of all things later escalated into an argument, he knew. As he watched her white fur change to a purpley red and then green, a wave of understanding and finality washed over Moomintroll’s mind. They were both frustrated. They were always frustrated. He wondered if they ever wouldn't be.   

Snufkin returned from his winter travels right on time this year, just as Moomintroll predicted. Swept up in the excitement of spring, return of loved ones, and waking up all the sleeping friends and acquaintances in the valley, it wasn’t until a few days later that the two of them were able to remove themselves from the family and really speak one on one.  

They stole away near evening to a secret bend in the river. It was a decent walk away from Moominhouse, hidden in high grass and river plants, and a place that the two of them liked in particular for its privacy (and for Snuff, its fishing).

Snufkin’s hair was long from his travels and he wore his scarf loose around his neck. His old green hat was folded into his pack because it was in need of a little mending — a branch snagged it and tore the brim a few days before he arrived. Without the usual protection from the sun but the same amount of afternoon naps, his skin had gotten a little sun burned and brief white marks appeared on his face when he laughed and said, “So, you hosted all of those creatures, even the ones you disliked, all because you couldn’t say no?”

“Oh, don’t tease me,” Moomintroll kicked his heels in the water before pulling them back quickly. The water was still icy.

“Don’t be cross,” Snufkin said softly, smiling. “That’s what’s good about you, Moomintroll.” He tugged at the fishing line, frowning as he realized it had caught on a weed. “You can’t help but care about people, even when they test you. It’s admirable. Though I daresay I wouldn't have had any patience for that horn player. I would have hated him.”

“I still do, to be quite honest.”

They both laughed.  

“But putting up with him — with the whole of winter honestly — might have been worth it overall, I think.”

“Really?” Snufkin began untangling his line.

“Oh yes, definitely. Waiting out the wretchedness of winter lead to the good parts — there ARE some after all, can you believe it? And I keep thinking of the things Too-Ticky told me — well when I could understand them — anyway I think it all opened my eyes to see the world in a new way.”

“What way is that?”

“It's not as simple as I thought it’d be. Well, of course I always knew life wasn’t SO simple, but it’s different to see it in practice. I think I can understand it a little better now. In such a short time this valley became something completely different. Just imagine what the rest of the world might be like, and through different seasons too! No wonder you like to see so much of it.”

Snufkin smiled, his lure finally freed. “You might be onto something,” he chuckled, not unkindly, and cast the lure back into the water.

They watched it bob and scatter the water bugs, watched the reflection of the clouds stroll by in slowly changing colors as the sun dipped behind them and out again. A small yellow butterfly hovered for a moment before settling on a white daisy across the bank.

“You know,” Moomin continued softly. “I tried to talk to Snorkmaiden about all this. But it didn’t go right. Devolved into something totally pointless. I felt like we were speaking two different languages, and that even when she heard what I was saying she didn’t understand what I really meant. And I then I had this thought — well, I realized that I don’t know if she ever could.”

Snufkin glanced over, but Moomin was staring over the water.

“…I broke it off with her. For good.”

“Did you?” Snufkin set down his rod and his forehead creased.

“Yes.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright. Or it will be. I think she saw it coming. Must’ve for a while. She might have been a bit relieved, really. I think we both secretly sort of wanted the other to be someone — er, well, something else, I mean. And now she’ll have the chance to find someone who better suits her.”

Snufkin was quiet.

“Plus, I can’t talk to her the way you and I can. I feel like, well, I suppose it isn’t the same with anyone else like it is with you.”

Snufkin’s ears turned as pink as the rest of his face, and he reached to pull down his hat. It wasn’t there of course, so he quickly settled for wrapping his scarf tighter around his face instead. His voice was muffled. “We can understand each other.”

Moomin smiled. Through the trees they could hear a faint bird song. The water now reflected the golden orange of the sky. Dusk was coming. Soon Moominmama would be starting dinner. Moomintroll rested his face in his paw.

“There was a moment, when I first woke up from hibernation,” he continued, almost to himself. “I looked at the snowy mountains and the first thing I thought of was you. You had managed to escape that wretched snow! And I thought that if I could make it to you over that giant snowy beast, then the horrible mess of waking up early would be over. In the end of course doing that most likely would have been a death wish. Especially before my winter coat came in. And without you knowing I was coming I doubt I would have been able to make it up the first hill! But I thought of you all the same.”

Moomin risked a glance at his friend, who was staring at the water. He then turned his head, looking serious and surprisingly vulnerable. “I thought of you too.”

******

Something had changed between them then, but neither spoke of it out loud for quite some time. There, on a similar summer evening some seasons later, the sky yellow and the grass gold, Moomin removed Snufkin’s hat to brush aside some grass, and instead of giving it back put a rush flower behind his ear. They both stayed there – a breath apart – before they finally kissed. And they did this, in secret, on and off again, in between moments and journeys for the summer after that, and the next, and longer.

But between the secrecy and Snufkin’s need for freedom and seasonal change, there was always a level of uncertainty and fear that burned into their moments of bliss. But Moomin pushed that down. The hidden love letters, private concerts, whispers between departures, and secret moonlit swims were for now, Moomintroll thought, enough.

Chapter Text

Some autumn morning quite a few years later, Snufkin awoke in his tent much earlier than usual. He sat up straight, heart beating quickly with a strange excitement. He scrambled out of bed and poked his head out of the tent. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the smallest glow along the horizon seemed to suggest it was thinking about it. The air was thick with cold fog but very still. Snufkin grinned into it and saw his breath.

He looked towards the trees. The birds were still sleeping. He glanced at Moominhouse, the blue of its walls blending into the cool morning greys. Silent over there as well.

He knew at once that it was time to break camp.

Something about the change in the air had captivated him. All at once his mind was filled with electrical storms, foreign ocean shores, little towns and big ones, high cliffs, music shops, southern vistas, open fields and orange groves. Not to mention all of the natural unknowns he couldn’t yet imagine. Exhilarating! And on top of it all there was the added thrill of knowing if he was to leave he had to move quickly – or they’d catch him – and the magic of him disappearing without a trace would vanish.

Yes, he must work quickly, before anyone woke up.

Sure it was a little earlier than he usually left and with quite a bit of autumn remaining, but the cold air came quickly this year. And he felt the return of something else. When the bone deep desire to explore and adventure on his lonesome hit him he always felt must act immediately. The feeling was just like the one that comes when one decides abruptly to shave their head or cut their hair – once you decide upon doing it, waiting any longer becomes mind numbing torture. At the thought, Snufkin instinctively ran a hand through his own short fuzzy hair and smiled.

And, if he was being completely honest with himself, half the thrill of leaving this selfish way was imagining the shock and disappointment of those who you left behind. You wouldn’t have to experience the awkward, gloomy, and prolonged goodbyes where farewell was never really enough and there was never really a good time to let go. This way in the shock of it all they’d miss you just a lick more than usual, making the return that much sweeter. He suppressed another smile and made quick work of packing up the tent, giddy with the thought of scandal.

Just when he had slipped his pack over his shoulders, Snufkin heard a sudden sound and his head snapped towards Moominhouse instinctively. He froze, heart pumping. No further sound. Moomin’s window was still closed with the curtains drawn. It must’ve been a forest creature or some other natural noise. He sighed.

Oh, Moomintroll. He hoped he wouldn’t be too cross with him leaving this way, again. Sure they had had pockets of hot and cold in their relationship over the years, but they always pulled through. Sure they had just been in a bit of cold one, considering that they had long since become adults and Moomin felt they weren’t ‘progressing’ in their relationship, whatever that meant. Talking about it all had made Snufkin feel uneasy. Moomin seemed to be looking at other relationships he knew and taking note about what they should do in theirs. But nothing the two of them did together was conventional or traditional, why should their relationship be?

They had both been changing. Lots of things were changing around them. Sniff had left to find and live with his parents, Snorkmaiden had moved with her brother to a few towns past the one where his own sister the Mymble lived, Moominpapa was becoming inconsolable with his malaise. Moomin himself was nearly the same except somehow even braver, sweeter, and more independent, even if a little melancholy. And Snufkin… had grown more grumpy and tired of society, mostly. He bit his lip. Bah. It didn’t matter. He liked to think he still had some spark of interest to him.

And even if things around them were changing, he didn’t see why what they had between them had to too. Any more rules and labels and openness and it would start to truly grate against his nature. Their affairs would be something people gossiped about (even more than they already did), and more and more people would expect things from him that he didn’t know if he could keep.

They might tell them that everything about their relationship was wrong. They wouldn’t understand it. Sometimes Snufkin hardly did himself. And when he would leave on his journeys there would be further tutting and rumors about how they should and shouldn’t do things, and why did anyone have to know anything? Lately even the little curious creeps asking about his day or prying into his business was becoming unbearable. He shook his head with a huff at the thought.

He only wanted to be himself, and be free, and to be with Moomin as it suited him.

Things were fine the way they were. Surely they could find other ways to liven up any boredom Moomin was feeling, if they were creative enough. He just wasn’t ready for… quite a few things.

And anyway, Moomintroll knew all this. He understood him like no one else did. And even though Snufkin left every winter (and sometimes unexpectedly for large chunks of time in the other seasons), Moomin knew he would always come back for him. Of course Snufkin would. And of course Moomin knew.

Snufkin may not have said so explicitly in words – and honestly he daren’t even say it out loud to himself – but in his heart he knew that he would never truly leave him. He simply couldn’t. Something deep inside him always returned to him, no matter the season or circumstance.

At first the whole thing was awfully confusing. It went against his entire personal philosophy. He had never thought that he would feel this way, or that he should feel this way. Admiring someone so strongly always lead to trouble, and when he was younger he swore he would never give into it. And yet…

Snufkin found himself drawn to Moomintroll in a way that felt inevitable, subtle, permanent, and powerful, and it terrified him. He was constantly taken aback by the way they always seemed to understand each other and make the other laugh, seek each other out in their most vulnerable moments, and find fondness in each other’s quirks that others seemed keen to ignore. It felt like a home he had no words for, a core part of him that couldn’t be removed even through the roughest storm.

All he knew was that ever since that journey with the comet, he had never been able to really leave Moomin or his valley, despite his vagabond calling.

And this time when Moomin realized he was gone so suddenly, he’d miss him so much that he’d forget all about their petty little quarrel. And when Snufkin returned in the spring their reunion would be sweeter than the best of Mama’s jams.

All at once he felt giddy all over again.

Right! He hurried on his way, past the town where his sister Mymble lived and threw loud and chaotic parties, past the Fillyonk’s immaculate home, past the Hemulin, the old man who lived by himself near the forest, and the little boat where a tiny Toft slept.

And as he did he noticed with glee that the wind was picking up and soon there would even be enough leaves blown about to cover up his tracks completely.

“Snufkin walked on, lit his pipe and thought: they’re waking up in Moominvalley. Moominpappa is winding up the clock and tapping the barometer. Moominmamma is lighting the stove. Moomintroll goes out on to the veranda and sees that my camping-site is deserted. He looks in the letter-box down at the bridge and it’s empty, too. I forgot my goodbye letter, I didn’t have time. But all the letters I write are the same: I’ll be back in April, keep well. I’m going away but I’ll be back in the spring, look after yourself. He knows anyway.

  And Snufkin forgot all about Moomintroll as easily as that.”

-Moominvalley in November

Chapter Text

When Moomintroll awoke and saw the bleached square of grass where Snufkin’s tent should have been, he felt a flash of sadness and irritation swell up inside him all at once. He hated to admit that he was surprised, but he was. It was early.

Sure, the past little while had been awkward – especially since their last discussion – but Moomintroll had spent many days thinking of ways he could help the situation, and last night he was convinced that he had finally found the perfect words to say that would fix this whole mess.

And just like, as if Snufkin had somehow predicted this breakthrough, he had vanished before Moomin was even awake. Typical.

More irritated than worried, Moomin didn’t panic right away. Could just be one of his week-long hikes or fishing trips, he reasoned. Or he’s found more signs to tear up, or some creature that needed help. He decided to wait patiently. But a week passed, and Snufkin didn’t return. A strange uneasiness began to grow inside of him.

When the couple last spoke they hadn’t left things on the best of terms. It weighed on Moomin. He chewed over what was said and what he was planning to say. The truth was that old insecurities were finding their way back to the surface. He fretted to Snufkin about all of the reasons why they never seemed to progress, why they still snuck around even among those who already knew about their relationship, why despite everything they still treated their love like something beautiful but stolen.

“Stolen from who?” Snufkin had said. “Who has property over us? Not Snorkmaiden?”

“Not Snorkmaiden.”

“Then who?”

“Exactly, who?” Moomin had taken Snufkin’s paws in his. “What’s holding us back?”

“Not a person,” Snufkin had whispered, taking his paws away.

He remembered the look of hurt in his lover’s eyes, reflecting his own. What had he been talking about? Had it been about change? Snufkin was known for his need for freedom, space, and new and exciting ventures. He always adored change. Except, it seemed, when it came to Moomintroll. It seemed to bring out something within him that Moomin rarely saw: fear. Of what exactly he wasn’t sure.

But Moomintroll didn’t want to change him, not really. He wanted to change things about himself, and wanted Snufkin to be with him while he did. He wasn’t a child anymore. And neither was Snufkin, who seemed to be growing more and more withdrawn and easily irritated. Moomin seemed to be the only exception to this growing grumpiness, but even then there were times where he’d be turned away as well. It made him wonder if one day his wanderer would disappear completely.

Eventually it became apparent that Snufkin really had left for his yearly travels south, and Moomin had to reconcile with the fact that he left without a satisfying end to their discussion or a kiss. As was custom, Moomin set to looking for Snufkin’s goodbye letter. This proved difficult.

Moomin’s anxiety began to climb with each secret letter place proved empty. At last he came to the final possible hiding spot, a hidden hole in a tree near one of their secret spots, and the reality of the situation became apparent. It was empty.

Moomin’s ears began ringing and pounding and he felt his stomach drop and the rest of his senses freeze. He stared at nothing until the entire world was a blur.

In a moment, all of his darkest and most insecure fears he had worked so hard to push down came crashing to the surface and seemed to scream at him from far away. Was it all true, then? Was this the evidence needed to confirm those fears? The final nail in the coffin? By not leaving a note, had Snufkin has left a message for him after all? He felt a deep pain in his chest with the realization.

He really did mean to leave this time. For good.

Moomin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, one paw on tree by their secret spot. Everything seemed far away and unreal until a shiver went through him. It really was uncommonly cold for this time of year.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a dark shape shimmer in the forest. His fur stood on end when he recognized the distant smile of the Groke.

Moomintroll ran home and slammed his door.

For the next few weeks, Moomintroll rarely left his room. He didn’t say anything about what had happened, but Moominmama knew that something had. She waited for him to be ready to tell her, which he eventually did one night by the fireplace, only shedding a few tears before becoming strangely still and calm.

Papa did not notice the difference, or at least pretended not to, as he was preoccupied with his own growing discontent. The fact that the family also seemed down just hastened the whole ordeal. The night that Moominmama lit the lantern and marked the official change in season, he could not hold it back any longer. Something, he declared, was going to change.

And so when Moominpapa came to the family with the plan of moving to a lighthouse, he found a surprising lack of resistance. Moomintroll had thought, why not? There was no longer a reason to stay.

**********

The days passed by peacefully for Snufkin as he continued on his way, crunching leaves with his boots in the forest and smoking his pipe. However, there was something that chipped away at his peace, itching at his mind and feeling quite like a rock had made its way into his boot. It was the one thing he allowed himself to really care for on his journeys: his music.

“ Snufkin got a feeling that he wanted to write songs. He waited until he was quite sure of the feeling and one evening he got out his mouth-organ from the bottom of his rucksack. In August, somewhere in Moominvalley, he had hit upon five bars which would undoubtedly provide a marvellous beginning for a tune.

They had come completely naturally as notes do when they have been left in peace. Now the time had come to take them out again and let them become a song about rain.

Snufkin listened and waited. The five bars didn’t come. He went on waiting without getting impatient because he knew what tunes were like. But the only things he could hear were the faint sounds of rain and running water. It gradually got quite dark. Snufkin took out his pipe but put it away again. He knew that the five bars must be somewhere in Moominvalley and that he wouldn’t find them until he went back again.

There are millions of tunes that are easy to find and there will always be new ones. But Snufkin let them alone, they were summer songs which would do for just anybody. He crept into his tent and into his sleepingbag and pulled it over his head. The faint whisper of rain and running water was still there and it had the same tender note of solitude and perfection. But what did the rain mean to him as long as he couldn’t write a song about it?” –Moominvalley in November

Snufkin thought about this tune, thought about the warm summer day where he had first played those five bars. He remembered exactly where he was, exactly how he felt, and who he had been with. He thought again of his missing letter, chewing at his pipe as his heart began to beat faster. He could ignore this feeling no longer.

Snufkin began heading back.