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Chapter Text

          Water was swirling all him.  His chest was about to burst.  Something whacked him from below, and his snout poked above the water.  He gasped, and the air tasted muddy.  Fumbling through the foam, he found an old wooden timber, and wrapped his whole body around it, clinging so tightly that his fingers hurt.  Then he squeezed his eyes shut and waited. 

          Eventually, the roaring in his ears faded, and the little creature opened one eye.  Towering trees and enormous flowers stood all around him. 

          “Morsan?  Farsan?”  He peeped.  The trees swallowed his voice.  He curled into a ball, shivering.  The water had flowed into his bones and wouldn’t come out.  He thought of a warm coffee tin and soft blankets decorated with buttons and cried.  What would he do now? 

          Remember, sweetheart: if anything ever happens to us, just find someone and give them the gold coin and the note, so they’ll take you to your Grand Uncle Hodgkins. 

          That was right, he just had to give someone the shiny button and the crinkled paper!  Then he would get to visit Grand Uncle.  Morsa had tucked them in a little green purse and tied it around his wrist.  He looked to his left wrist, and then his right, and back to the left again. 

          Where was his purse? 

          The little creature pushed himself to his feet and toddled around.  There were lots of chunks of wood in the muck, and broken bricks, and rags.  He picked his way around a dirty shard of glass.  Something knobbly in the mud caught his attention, and he picked it up.  He tried to wipe it off on his chest, but his chest was covered in mud, too, so he gave up and dropped it back in the muck.  Perhaps he could find something cleaner. 

          What was he looking for, again?  He sat down with a “plop” in the mud and thought about it.  A green glow from above drew his attention. There was a glowworm curled up in one of the giant flowers hanging over his head.  That was it—he needed something shiny!  He stood up, and then stood up taller, and then stretched as high as he could on his tippy-toes, but his little arms just couldn’t reach.  With a huff, he looked down at his paws. 

          Oh, there were more glows down here!  The small creature grabbed at one of the shiny specks.  His paws came down with a “splash!” 

          “Eeek!” he yelped.  “No, no more water!  No more water!”

          Scrambling, he managed to crawl onto a fairly dry tree root.  His face was still damp, though, and he realized the wetness was coming from his eyes.  “No more water...” he sniffled.  Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, the little creature curled into a ball and tried to sleep.  If he slept, then surely the sun would come up and make him warm. 

          After what felt like forever, the little creature opened his eyes.  He looked all around, but there was still no light to be seen other than that from the glowworms.  That just wasn’t fair!  The sun was supposed to wake up before he did!  He almost started wailing then and there, but a nearby sound made him shut his mouth and prick up his ears.  Peeking cautiously around the tree trunk, he spotted two round beasts passing by, looking ghostly in the glowworm’s green light.  One was smaller than the other, but even that was much bigger than him. 

          “Look!”  The smaller one shouted.  The little creature’s ears flew straight up in fear. 

          “It’s really a very little creature,” the larger one soothed.  “Wait, and I’ll shine a light on it.  Everything looks worse in the dark, you know.”  She plucked a tulip full of glowworms and held it out toward him, making the little creature blink.  “There, you see.” 

          “What sort’a thing are you?” He asked.  That was what Farsa liked to say, when the little creature held out something he had found in the grass or by the stream. 

          “I’m a moomintroll, and this is my mother.  I hope we didn’t disturb you,” the smaller moomin politely replied. 

          “Not at all!”  The little creature cleared his throat, trying to make his toddler lisp sound more adult.  “I was sitting here feeling all sad an’ longing for comp’ny.”  Oh dear, these trolls were company, weren’t they?  Company always required a lot of fuss, in his experience.  The little creature looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any biscuits or tea nearby for him to offer.  That made him a little nervous—the company surely wouldn’t stay long if he wasn’t a good host.  “Are you in a big hurry?”  He asked anxiously. 

          “Yes,” replied the moominmother.  “You see, we’re looking for a nice, sunny place where we can build a house.  But perhaps you’d like to come with us?” 

          “An’ how!”  The little creature leapt from the tree root toward them, landing with a “squelch.”  “I’d got lost an’ thought I’d never see the sun again!” 

          The moominmother held out her paw.  It was much bigger and fluffier than Morsa’s paws, but it was warm when he clasped it, so he immediately felt better. 

          “Thank you, Moominmother.” 

          “Just call me ‘Moominmamma,’ my dear.  And what’s your name?” 

          The little creature screwed his face up tightly.  His Morsa and Farsa’s voices came to him, saying “little button” and “hazelnut” and “darling,” but none of those felt right coming off his tongue. 

          “I’m not sure.”  For some reason, this made tears sting at his eyes again. 

          “That’s fine,” Moominmamma said, squeezing his paw.  “We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.  Now, come on, let’s see if we can’t find our way out of this forest.” 

          With that, the three began walking. 

          It took a lot of walking—not to mention a trip on a hattifattner’s boat and a ride on a stork—but they found a sun-filled valley that felt like home the moment their paws touched the grass.  Best of all, there was no need to build a house, as the one Moominpappa already made had washed up right in the middle of the beautiful valley.  The house was a pretty shade of blue, and the little creature liked it as soon as he saw it.  The best surprise of all, however, was finding Moominpappa himself. 

          “Well, well!”  Pappa had boomed upon seeing the little creature.  “When I left to go sailing with the hattifattners, I only had one son, and now I’ve come back to two!  It’s wonderful to meet you, little fellow!”  He held out a paw, and the little creature leapt into his arms.  Chuckling, Moominpappa easily lifted him up and swung him around. 

          Moomin had scowled at that, but Pappa was quick to notice, and he swept up the older boy as well.  “And I’m so proud of you, Moomin!  Mamma tells me you’ve been quite the brave young man through all this flooding!” 

          Since Moominpappa could easily hold both of them at once, the little creature didn’t see any problem with sharing the hug.  Apparently, however, Moomin did.  After dinner that evening, Moomin cornered the little creature in the parlor.  “Now that we’ve found this valley, shouldn’t you be making a house of your own?” He asked. 

          “What?” 

          Moomin crossed his arms and huffed.  “No one invited you to into the Moominhouse, you know.  It’s very rude to stay uninvited.” 

          Knowing Moomin was right, the little creature ran out the door crying.  He didn’t get very far, though, because he bumped into Mamma washing dishes in the stream.  “My goodness, dear, whatever is the matter?” she asked.   

          “I...” he hiccuped.  “I hafta go, don’t I?  ‘Cause I’m not invited!”  The little creature broke into sobs. 

          “Oh, my dear, you can stay with Pappa and Moomin and me as long as you want!”  Moominmamma took the little creature into her arms and rocked him.

          “I’m so sorry, I should have said it earlier.  I hope you can forgive me.” 

          “I-I’m invited?” 

          “Of course, sweetheart.”  Moominmamma thought for a moment.  “In fact, it’s a very special invitation.  You see, I’m not only inviting you to stay in the Moominhouse.  I want you to be part of the family, too.” 

          The little creature went still, eyes shining.  “R-really?” 

          “Yes,” she cooed.  “I’m inviting you to be my little boy, alongside Moomin.  Would you like that?” 

          For a moment, the little creature was ready to throw his arms around Moominmamma and say yes, but he suddenly felt sick.  “What ‘bout Morsa and Farsa?” 

          “Oh, my dear.  My dear...” she whispered, holding him tighter.  The little creature felt her take a deep breath before she spoke.  “Do you remember all that rain that came down after we left the lighthouse?  How it made the water get really deep, and we had to use a chair as a boat to stay above it?” 

          “Mmhmm,” the little creature mumbled. 

          “That’s called a flood.  There was another flood right before we met, little one.  You remember the night we found you?” 

          He tensed, his little fingers digging into Moominmamma’s fur.  “No more water...”

          “Shh, you’re safe now.  You’re safe,” Mamma whispered.  After holding him close for a moment, she pulled her head back to look at the little creature.  He was surprised to see tears in her eyes, too. 

          “My dear, I’m afraid that your Morsa and Farsa must have died in that flood.”  She looked at his confused face and winced.  “That...that means they can’t take care of you anymore.  You won’t be able to see them again.” 

          The little creature opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again.  “B-but why?” 

          “I’m sorry my dear, but sometimes floods happen.  There’s nothing we can do.” 

          “B-but, my Grand Uncle!”  The little creature shouted frantically.  “I’m s’posed to find Grand Uncle if Morsa and Farsa are gone!  I’m s’posed to give someone the paper and the shiny button from my purse!”  His voice rose to a wail.  “My purse!  I lost it, an’, an’ I lost Morsa and Farsa, and now I can’t see them or Grand Uncle again ever!” 

          “It’s not your fault, my dear.”  Moominmamma held the little creature against her chest.  “It’s not your fault.  But you go ahead and cry as much as you need to.” 

          It was dark by the time the little creature had sobbed himself to sleep.  Moominmamma gingerly wrapped him in her apron and laid him down in the bottom bunk of the bed that Pappa had carved for their guest room.  As she shut the door, Mamma heard little paws shuffling behind her. 

          “Moomin?”

          Moomin stepped into the lamplight, eyes watery.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make him cry like that.” 

          “I know, sweetie, but you need to be more careful in what you say to him.”  She sighed.  “Moomin, do you remember how sad you were when Pappa left to go sailing?” 

          He nodded. 

          “The little creature just lost both his parents in that flood.  Think of how upset he must be.”  Moominmamma set the lamp on the sill and got down on her knees, looking Moomin in the eye.  “That’s why we’re going to be his family now, to help him get through all this sadness.  Is that alright?” 

          “Yes, Mamma.” 

          “Come here, sweetheart.”  She opened her arms, and for the second that night, let a son of hers cry against her chest. 

Chapter Text

          When the little creature woke up, he found himself alone in the dark.

          “No, no, no!”  He flung the covers off and tumbled out of bed.  Tripping his way to the door, the little creature flung it open and looked around frantically.  The hallway was black and empty.

          “Morsan!  Farsan!”  He shook his head.  No, they were gone.  Gone forever.  His legs started shaking, and he collapsed on the landing, tears pouring down his face.

          “No...”

          “Little one?  What’s wrong, my dear?”  The little creature blinked; Moominmamma had  appeared in the hall, lamp in hand.

          “You left me!”  He screamed.  Rushing forward, he pressed himself against her stomach and beat at her chest with his tiny fists.  “You left me!  Y-you...” his yells dissolved into sobs.

          “Oh, my dear...”

          “Goodness me, Mamma, is everything all right?”  Moominmamma turned her head and saw her husband in the doorway of their bedroom.  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and spotted Moomin peeking over the landing from upstairs.

          "I suppose not, Pappa.”  She glanced down at the little creature, still wailing into her fur.  “But I think I can handle this.  You and Moomin go back to bed.”

          Once the other two had gone back to their rooms, Mamma turned her attention back to the little creature.  His sobs had faded into hiccups, but his grip on her hadn’t loosened.  “Please, please don’t leave me alone again,” he mumbled, sniffling.  “I’ll be good, promise.”

          “I’m sorry that you were scared, my dear.  But you see now, Pappa and I are just in the next room, and Moomin is upstairs.  We thought, after all these nights of sleeping out in the open, you might like to have your own room.”  She stroked the little creature’s back.  “You don’t have to be afraid.  We’re not going to leave you.”

          “Morsa and Farsa did.”

          Moominmamma winced.  “I know it feels like they did, but they didn’t want to leave you.  And Pappa, Moomin, and I will never want to leave you, either.”

          “B-but what if the water comes and takes you, too?”  He looked up at her, eyes wide with fear.

          Choosing her words carefully, Moominmamma looked into the little creature’s eyes and vowed, “I promise, I will do anything I can to make sure nothing ever takes me from you.”  After a moment’s hesitation, the little creature gave a single nod, and Moominmamma smiled.  “Look, the sun’s rising over the mountains.  Doesn’t that help?”

          “It’s pretty,” he sniffled.

          “It certainly is.  And with morning comes breakfast, you know.  Come down to the kitchen with me, and I’ll fix you a pancake.”

          By the time the little creature’s eyes were dry and his belly was full, Pappa and Moomin had joined them in the dining room.

          “Pappa, do you have plans for today?”  Moominmamma asked her husband.

          “Oh, I don’t know.  I figure if I look around, I’ll find something that needs fixing.”

          “Well, I’ve got a project of my own today.  Do you think you could keep an eye on the boys for awhile?”

          “Of course!”  Pappa turned to Moomin and the little creature with a broad smile.  “You two can help me look around the house.  It’s been on quite a journey of its own, after all, so we must make sure every inch is sturdy and secure!”

          Moomin tugged on his father’s arm.  “Pappa, can we show him my room first?”

          “Certainly!  We’ll start at the top and work our way downward.  Lead the way, my boy!”

          As the three charged upstairs, Moominmamma rummaged through her sewing basket.  She retrieved a soft piece of felt, a handful of cotton-wool, and two sparkling rocks she had found washed up by the house.  “Yes, this will do nicely.”

          By the time her husband and sons were finished their inspection of the upper floors, Moominmamma had sewn together a plush dog.  "Little one, could you please come here a moment?” she called.  

          He toddled over to her.  “Yes, Mamma?”

          “I made you a present, my dear.”  She handed him the stuffed animal, grinning when his eyes went wide.  “See these big shiny eyes?  They’re topazes, so your friend here can keep watch while you’re asleep.”

          “Oh, Mamma!  Thank you, thank you!”  He gave her a quick squeeze before bounding back to Moomin and Pappa.  “Look at my doggie!”

          Moominpappa chuckled.  “A fine pooch, to be sure.  I wouldn’t expect any less from Mamma’s handiwork.”

          Bouncing eagerly on his toes, the little creature looked to Moomin.  “Do you think you could help me think of a name for him?”

          Moomin took a long, serious look at the plush.  “Hmm.  He needs a heroic name, if he’s going to be a good watchdog.  I think you should call him Cedric.”

          “Cedric...” the little creature looked into the stuffed dog’s eyes.  “Yes.  He’s Cedric.”

          And so, Cedric came to stay in the little creature’s room, perched by his pillow.  When night came and the darkness felt too big, he looked to his watchdog.  Cedric’s topaz eyes caught the smallest glints of moonlight and reflect it back as thousands of sparkles to drive away the dark.

          After Cedric’s creation, the little creature grew to enjoy having his very own bedroom.  After so much wandering, it was a thrill to sleep in the same place each night.  When he got up one morning and toddled downstairs, he spotted Pappa rifling through the kitchen drawers, brow furrowed. 

          “Good morning, Moominpappa!”

          “Hmm?”  Pappa turned to him and smiled.  “Oh, hello little fellow!”

          “Whatcha doin’?”

          “Trying to remember where I put that bag of nails.  I could have sworn I left it with my hammer—“

          “It’s on the porch with your notepad.”

          “Eh?”

          The little creature rocked back and forth on his heels casually.  “You were gonna put up the mailbox, you said, so you left it outside.”

          “So I did!”  Moominpappa snapped his fingers.  “Thank you, my boy!  I’ll get started on that right now.”

          Following Pappa outside, the little creature found his brother on the porch as well, packing a small shoulder bag.  “Are you goin’ somewhere, Moomin?” he asked. 

          “Yes, I am.”  Moomin puffed out his chest.  “Today’s a perfect day for an adventure, so I’m going to explore down by the ocean.”

          The little creature swished his tail excitedly.  “Can I come?”

          “Of course!  You can help me look for treasure.”  Moomin strode off the porch toward the path, the little creature scrambling after him.

          “Moomin, what’s the ocean?”

          “It’s a huge pool of water that extends all the way to the sky!”  The little creature froze.  Moomin stopped and turned to him, cringing when he saw the little creature’s face.  “Oh.  Right.”

          The little creature gulped.  “I-is it bigger than the wash tub?”

          “A lot bigger,” Moomin nodded solemnly.  “Maybe you had better stay home today.”

          “But I wanna come along!”  Tears trickled out of the little creature’s eyes.

          “Hey, hey, don’t cry.”  Moomin took his brother’s paw and gave it a gentle squeeze.  “How about we just walk along the beach?  And if you don’t like it, we can go home and try another day.”

          Squaring his tiny shoulders, the little creature nodded, and the brothers continued down the path toward the beach.  As they climbed a sandy hill, there came a thundering roar and the smell of salt.  At the top of the dune, the boys stopped and stared; there was the ocean, churning and dark.

          “It’s moving...” the little creature whimpered, hiding his face in Moomin’s belly.  “I don’t want it to grab me!”

          “Don’t worry, it’s moving away from you.” Moomin nudged the little creature until he looked up, and explained, “Pappa taught me about tides, and right now, it’s getting near low tide.  See where all that seaweed is?  A wave left that there earlier.  But right now the waves can’t come up nearly as far because the tide is going out.”

          “A-are you sure it won’t grab me?”

          Gripping the little creature’s paw tightly, Moomin replied, “I’m sure.  And if it does, I’ll just grab you and bring you back.  I’m a great swimmer, you know.”

          That comforted the little creature, and he let Moomin lead him to the line of seaweed that marked where high tide had reached.  Once there, the two turned, and started walking parallel to the ocean.  With Moomin’s big fluffy body between him and the water, the little creature could almost forget it was there at all.  There was so much to see on the beach—barnacle-encrusted rocks, crabs scuttling out of their holes, seabirds pecking at the ocean debris.  As one tern flew away with a piece of kelp, the little creature spotted something half-buried in the sand.

          “Look!  It’s a seashell!”  Without thinking, the little creature rushed forward to scoop it out of the sand.  Clutching it in his paws, he held it up to show Moomin.

          The realization smacked him like a wave: he wasn’t holding Moomin’s paw anymore.  His brother was still where he had left him, and he was alone next to the ocean.  Completely frozen, the little creature watched a wave form, rearing up like a panicked horse.  It was galloping toward him, and he couldn’t move.  He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the bone-chilling cold to surround him.

          Still dry a moment later, he dared to open one eye.  The wave had crashed several feet away from him and was politely retreating back to the depths.

          “Hey, are you all right?” Moomin called out to little creature, jolting him out of his stupor.

          “I...yes.  I’m fine,” he said, hardly daring to believe his own words.  Keeping one eye fixed on the ocean, the little creature scurried back to his brother.  He went to grab Moomin’s paw, only to realize his fingers were still clenched around the seashell.

          “What’d you find?” Moomin asked, trying to peek between his fingers.  The little creature gingerly uncurled his paw, wincing at its stiffness, to reveal a clam shell.  It was a gentle ivory color, with concentric grey stripes near its lip.

          “That’s pretty!  See, you already found some treasure!” Moomin cheered.

          “I...I did, didn’t I?”  The little creature stood tall, as proud as if he had battled a dragon for its hoard.  “Yes!  Let’s go find some more!”

          The boys flitted about the beach like hummingbirds, scanning the sand for more shells.  After a couple minutes, the little creature toddled back to Moomin.  “Could you please put these in your bag for me?” he asked.

          Moomin did a double-take; his brother was absolutely covered in sand, and his arms were full of clam and mussel shells.  “Gee, you’re good at sniffing those out.”  He poked the little creature on the nose, making him giggle.

          “I’m a sniffler!”

          “You are a sniffler!” laughed Moomin.  He opened his bag and let the little creature dump the shells inside.  “Well, come on then, Sniff!  I bet we can get more down by those rocks!”

          Moomin took off.  Still giggling, Sniff was about to chase after him when a wave came charging up the beach.  He scrambled back, but it just washed gently over his toes.  As it retreated, he noticed a cockle shell left by his paw.  He picked it up and examined it, brow furrowed, before turning to the ocean.

          “Thank you,” Sniff said politely.  Clutching the present to his chest, he ran off to catch up with his brother.  

Chapter Text

          Moominpappa was dozing in the hammock when he heard the excited voices of his sons coming up the path.  He shifted his top hat off of his eyes and sat up. 

          “Hello there, boys!  How was your adventure?” 

          “It was great, Pappa!”  Moomin answered. “First, we went—“ he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach.  Snout turning pink, Moomin said, “perhaps I’d better go inside and help Mamma with lunch, first.” 

          “Excellent idea,” Moominpappa chuckled, knowing full well that “helping Mamma with lunch” likely meant sneaking blueberries and biscuit crumbs from the serving platter.  “You can tell me all about your morning later.”  As Moomin ran inside, Pappa turned to his youngest son and did a double-take.  “Goodness, is there any sand left on the beach?  Or did you bring it all home with you in your fur?” 

          “No, Moominpappa!” Sniff laughed.  “But we got lotsa shells, see?”  He opened the bag that Moomin had left on the porch, revealing a whole pile of seashells encrusted with sand. 

          “Indeed you do, but I’ll be able to see them better once they’ve been washed off.”  Pappa gave him a pat on the head, and grimaced when his paw came away covered in sand.  “I think I had better wash you off as well, my boy!” 

          “I’m called Sniff now!” 

          “Are you?  That’s a fine name.”  Moominpappa replied, opening the cellar door and dragging the washtub outside.  “Here, we can wash you and your shells at the same time.  It’ll be more efficient that way!” 

          “Yes, Pappa!”  Sniff ran over to the tub and upended the satchel over it, covering the bottom with sand and seashells, before clambering in himself. 

          Moominpappa smiled proudly at the sight.  Getting Sniff into the washtub for the first time after his adoption had been quite a feat.  The first time he faced a washtub full of water, the boy sobbed in terror, and neither Mamma nor Pappa would ever have the heart to force him in.  Moominmamma gave him sponge baths for a time, but Sniff’s fur desperately needed a good soaking to loosen the snarls.  It was Pappa who eventually found a strategy for keeping Sniff calm in the tub.  He would start with just a bucket or two of water in the wash basin, and then ask Sniff to hop in.  Then, Moominpappa would keep Sniff occupied with stories, questions, and riddles while he added enough water to scrub the boy’s fur, just a pail’s worth at a time.  The process took quite a while, but Pappa treasured the time with his new son. 

          “There,” Moominpappa declared as he added two buckets of water to the washtub.  “Now, let’s see what you’ve found.” 

          Sniff fished around the bottom of the tub until his paw landed on one of his treasures, now considerably cleaner.  “Look, this one’s a clam shell!” 

          With Sniff turning the shell over in his paws, Pappa took the opportunity to start scrubbing the sand off the boy’s back.  “My, my, how pretty!  It looks as though there’s mother-of-pearl on the inside.” 

          “Yes!  Farsa tol’ me that people cut fancy buttons outta these!” 

          Moominpappa felt Sniff’s shoulders stiffen under his paws.  “Oh.  Farsa…” his voice came out as a whisper, wet with tears. 

          “My dear boy,” Pappa rubbed a gentle circle on Sniff’s back.  “Would you like tell me about your Morsa and Farsa?” 

          Sniff was silent for a long moment.  Then, without looking up from the bubbles of his bath, he mumbled, “Morsa uses...she used her needles to make pictures.  She’d put them on blankets, an’ pot holders, an’ everything to make them pretty.” 

          “That sounds very impressive.  Embroidery takes nimble paws, and those are a sign of a nimble mind.” 

          “Mmhmm.”  Sniff agreed, meeting Pappa’s eyes at last.  “Morsa was really smart.  She liked makin’ lists, so Farsa wouldn’t lose any of his treasures.” 

          “Did your Farsa keep a collection?” 

          Sniff nodded vigorously, a smile beginning to grow on his face.  “He had every type of thing in the whole wide world—cogwheels an’ safety pins an’ thimbles” he listed, counting on his fingers.  “Oh, but his buttons were the best!” 

          Moominpappa’s blood turned to ice.  “Buttons?” he repeated, a waver in his voice. 

          “He had all sorts of them!  I liked the gold an’ silver ones the best, but Morsa’s fav’rite were the ones with pictures carved into ‘em…”

          Sniff was still talking, but Pappa could no longer make out the words among his rushing thoughts. 

          Buttons.  Oh, by the Booble, please, no. 

          “…and one time, one time he found a button with little sparkly rocks on it, an’—“

          “Tell me, Sniff,” Moominpappa interrupted.  “Do you remember where your Farsa kept his treasures?” 

          “Yes, in a big coffee tin!” 

          No.  Pappa wanted to scream to the sky, or to fall to the ground and sob until he couldn’t see.  Muddler, Fuzzy, perhaps Hodgkins too…his friends, his wonderful, quirky, creative friends, had been dead for months, and he hadn’t even known. 

          So caught up in his own thoughts, Moominpappa didn’t notice when the grin on Sniff’s face faded. 

          “I miss ‘em, Pappa.  It hurts.” 

          The choked whisper jolted Moominpappa back to the present.  He looked at Sniff, who was hugging his knees tightly in the washtub, and forced his own tears back.  His son needed him. 

          “Oh, my dear boy,” Pappa swallowed hard.  “I know it’s painful.  But missing them just means that you loved them dearly.” 

          He gently lifted Sniff out of the tub and took the soaking wet, shivering, crying boy into his arms.  Sniff tucked his snout in the crook of Pappa’s shoulder and mumbled, “I’m so sick of crying.  It’s been so long.  Aren’t I ever gonna feel better?” 

          “You were happy for a moment while you were telling me about your Morsa and Farsa, weren’t you?” 

          “I guess.  But then I got all sad again.”

          “There’s nothing wrong with that, my boy.  As much as it hurts, you need to take the time to mourn.  I know it seems it’ll last forever, but it won’t.”  Moominpappa drew back to look Sniff in the eye.  “You’re sad that they’re gone, of course, but you can be happy about the time you did spend with them, too.  And even though you’ll never stop missing your Morsa and Farsa, eventually you’ll be able to focus more on those happy memories than on how much you miss them.” 

          “Really?” Sniff asked in a small voice. 

          Pappa picked up the fluffy bath towel he had brought and wrapped it around Sniff’s shoulders.  “Yes, and you’ll have me, Mamma, and Moomin to help you through.”  With a deep breath, Pappa added, “and when you feel up to sharing the happy memories, too, we’re here to listen.” 

          Sniff wiped his nose on the towel and gave him a watery smile.  “Thanks, Pappa.” 

          “You’re very welcome, my boy.  Now come on, let’s get you dried off before you catch a chill.”  He shifted the towel over Sniff’s head and rubbed his ears vigorously, eliciting a giggle. 

          Just as Pappa finished drying Sniff, Mamma called out, “lunch is ready!”  Sniff eagerly hopped to his feet and ran for Moominhouse, leaving Moominpappa kneeling by the washtub.  As he watched Sniff go inside, Pappa felt his ears fall. 

          “Muddler…Fuzzy…Hodgkins…” he thought.  “That boy is all I have left of them.” 

          In a daze, Pappa managed to stand.  Instead of joining his family in the dining room, however, Moominpappa found himself climbing the stairs and heading toward his study.  Legs trembling, he plopped down in his chair and buried his head in his paws. 

          He heard a soft “knock” on his door, but couldn’t find his voice to reply.  A moment later, Moominmamma poked her head into the room.  “Aren’t you going to be joining us for lunch, Moominpappa?” 

          “I don’t think I can right now,” came his muffled reply. 

          Moominmamma crossed the room and put a paw on her husband’s back.  “What’s the matter, dear?” she asked gently. 

          “I asked Sniff about his parents.”  Raising his head to look her in the eye, Pappa whispered, “Moominmamma…his parents were Muddler and Fuzzy.” 

          Mamma’s eyes widened.  “Are you sure?”

          “Mhm.” 

          “Oh, Pappa.”  She wrapped her paws around his middle and brought her husband out of the chair for a proper hug.  Moominpappa clutched her tightly with trembling paws. 

          “I was trying to help Sniff through his grief, and now I’m grieving myself.”  He chuckled bitterly.  “If this were one of my stories, I’d call it clever irony.” 

          “I’m so sorry, Pappa.”  Over Moominpappa’s shoulder, Moominmamma noticed his desk, plastered with half-finished pages from his memoirs.   “Perhaps it would help to share your memories of them with Sniff, just how he shared with you.  You could grieve together.” 

          “That’s a nice thought, Mamma.  And I suppose it’s my duty to make sure their stories live on.”  He pulled away from the hug, roughly wiping his eyes roughly with his paw.  “But I think I need some time to mourn, too.” 

Chapter Text

          It took a couple of years—and the discovery of yet another one of his friend’s children—but eventually Moominpappa worked up the courage to talk about his long-lost companions.  He gathered Sniff, Moomin, and Snufkin to his armchair and filled their heads with images of an endless sea, soft cotton clouds, and a strange rocky island ruled by an even stranger king.  Most of all, though, he talked about the crew of the Oshun Oxtra, with all their oddities and eccentricities.  To his delight, both Sniff and Snufkin were able to identify their fathers; each also seemed to think his own father the hero of the story, however, much to Moomin’s—and Pappa’s, though he wouldn’t admit it—chagrin.  Still, Moominpappa felt a great weight lift from his shoulders as he wove the tale of his youth.  He didn’t have to be the sole bearer of these stories, the only survivor of his memories, any longer.

          And then the miracle came: a knock on the door.

          Sniff craned his neck to see as Moominpappa opened the door.  On the veranda stood a tall, stocky, grey-furred creature with fluffy ears.  “By my everlasting tail…” he heard Moominpappa whisper.  “Hodgkins, dear fellow!  Come in, come in!”

          Even though the stranger’s clothes were damp from rain, Pappa pulled him in for a hug as soon as he was properly through the door.  Sniff furrowed his brow as he watched the scene.  It was hard to think of Pappa as small, what with all his long words and passionate speeches.  Yet, as Moominpappa clung to the stranger’s chest, silent save for a quiet mumble of “goodness, I’ve missed you,” he looked as tiny and humble as Sniff himself.

          Wiping his eyes, Moominpappa turned to his youngest son and said, “Sniff, this is your Grand-Uncle Hodgkins.”

          Hodgkins didn’t say anything, but his eyes shone like cogwheels when he looked down at Sniff.  Struck with a sudden familiarity, he ran to his Grand Uncle’s side.  Hodgkins exhaled in a way that could very nearly be called a chuckle.  Patting Sniff’s head, he announced, “I’ve brought some parents with me.”

          “Whose parents?”  Sniff and Snufkin exclaimed at the same time.

          “Yours, of course!”  Hodgkins answered, nodding at both boys.  “They’re a little shy.  Didn’t want to come in with me.”

          With an excited yell, Sniff pushed past his grand-uncle and ran for the door.  There were a lot of people on the veranda, mostly little mymbles, but Sniff zeroed in on just two figures: a hunched, raggedy fellow with a pot over his ears and a long-necked, mousy creature whose dress dragged on the ground.

          “Farsan…Morsan…” he sobbed as his parents took him into their embrace.  In their arms, those memories of gentle voices saying “darling” and “hazelnut” and “little button,” those warm paws, those comforting smells of motor oil and tin and lavender, all scattered throughout Sniff’s mind, came together like puzzle pieces.

          Sniff felt tears wet the top of his head as his Morsa cried, “oh, my baby, we’re so sorry we lost you!  We’ve missed you so much!”

          Sniff wanted to say that he has missed them too; his throat was tight with tears, however, so he just squeezed his parents a little tighter.  As soon as he had released his father, Moominpappa bounded over to hug Muddler as well, and then Moominmamma came to greet Fuzzy, and everyone was talking and laughing and crying to the point that Sniff could hardly hear himself think.

          The clock chimed eleven before it was finally quiet enough for Sniff to ask one of the hundreds of questions burning in his mind. He and his parents had made their way onto the stairs, and Muddler was in the midst of showing Sniff the contents of his pockets, when Sniff interrupted.  “Farsan, I was wondering,” he tugged on one of his ears, embarrassed.  “Could you…could you tell me my real name?”

          “Oh, excuse me!  We named you Rådd-djuretson.  But that’s such a fuss to say, I suppose we never used it.”

          “‘Rådd-djuretson?’  I’m not sure if I could get used to that—“ Sniff cut himself off with a jolt.  “Not that I don’t like it!  I mean...I just...”

          “I rather like ‘Sniff!’  It suits you well,” Fuzzy said, smiling.

          “Yes, nothing wrong with collecting a few names,” Muddler chimed in.  

          Sniff sighed with relief, but at the same time, felt a pang of guilt in his chest.  He rubbed at the fur there with his paw, but a soreness remained, even through Fuzzy’s embroidery lesson and Muddler’s tour of his coffee tin.  At last, all three were too exhausted to talk anymore, and they collapsed in a heap on the hallway rug.  Tucked between his Morsa and Farsa, Sniff thought he should be the happiest child in the world.

          Yet his chest still ached.  Sniff scratched at it for the dozenth time that night and stifled a frustrated sob.

          “I must be horribly selfish,” he thought.  “I’ve gotten my parents back, and I’m still sad.  What’s wrong with me?”

          Sniff abruptly sat up, jaw set.  He needed to talk to someone about what he was feeling, and there was one person around who knew exactly what he was going through.

          After all, he wasn’t the only one who had found his parents tonight.

          Even if Snufkin was more Moomin’s friend than his, Sniff still liked the vagabond.  Snufkin was awfully blunt at times, bordering on rude, but he told fantastic stories, played lovely songs on his harmonica, and gave sound advice.  Admittedly, Sniff didn’t always take that advice.  He appreciated it, though, and perhaps tonight, Snufkin could really help.

          Mind made up, Sniff carefully picked his way over sleeping mymbles to get to the kitchen.  He had just put his paw on the back door’s handle when he heard a shrill “BOO!”

          “Aaugh!” Sniff screamed.  He whipped around, but only saw an empty kitchen.

          “Sheesh, you sure are easy to scare.”  Sniff pricked up his ears at the voice.  Looking around, he finally spotted a mymble’s orange hair bun sticking out of a vase on the shelf.  When she saw that he had spotted her, the mymble smirked.  “I suppose I’ll have to toughen you up a bit while I’m here.”

          “Uh,” he stammered.  “I-I don’t think I’d like that.”

          “I don’t recall giving you a choice.”  She hopped out of the vase and leaned against it.  “Little creatures have to learn to be tough, after all.”

          Sniff wrinkled his nose.  Who was she to be calling him little, when she could fit in a teacup?  “Who are you, anyway?”

          “Little My, of course.  And you’d better remember it.”  She jumped down to a lower shelf, rattling Moominmama’s tins.  “Why are you sneaking around at this hour, anyway?”

          “I could ask you the same thing!”

          “I’m causing trouble.”  Standing on her tiptoes, she pushed the lid off the flour tin.

          Sniff blinked.  Well, at least she was honest, he supposed.  “If you must know, I’m trying to go see Snufkin.”

          Tipping the tin onto her lap, Little My casually scooped out a handful of flour and stuck it in her mouth.  “My brother’s on the bridge outside,” she said, spraying flour everywhere.

          “Uh, thanks.”  Wiping flour off his face, Sniff scrambled out the back door.  He peeked around Moominhouse and sure enough, there was a triangular silhouette on the bridge.

          “Hi, Snufkin,” he greeted as he scampered down the path.

          “Sniff.”  The vagabond acknowledged him without turning around.

          With a grunt, Sniff hoisted himself onto the rail of the bridge next to Snufkin. “I just met your sister.” And wasn’t that an odd thing, being able to say that to Snufkin?  

          “Hmm.  Which one?”

          “The tiny one—Little My.”  Sniff hastily corrected himself.  “How many siblings do you have, again?”

          “Thirty-six.”

          “…wow.”

          Instead of responding, Snufkin took a pull from his pipe.  There was a heavy silence.

          “My real name is Rådd-djuretson,” Sniff blurted out.

          Snufkin hummed.  “Do you want everyone to call you that, now?”

          “No, no.  I just thought I’d tell you.”  Sniff peered at the vagabond, but his old green hat hid his eyes in darkness.  “What’s your real name?”

          “I didn’t ask.”  He snapped.

          Sniff folded his ears in a pout.  “Well, I’ll go away if I’m bothering you.”

          “No.”  Snufkin sighed, finally turning to face his friend.  “I’m sorry.”

          “I get it,” Sniff was quick to forgive.  “I kind of feel like I did back when the Moomins first adopted me.  It’s a lot.”

          “That’s just it.  I don’t know how to feel at all.”  Snufkin’s face was as still as a mask, and Sniff couldn’t help but feel frustrated.  After all, he himself had been smiling and sobbing all evening, alternating to the point of exhaustion.  It was going to be difficult asking for advice if Snufkin didn’t know how to feel, either.  Sniff thought for a moment.  The only time he had ever seen Snufkin upset enough to cry was—

          “Hey, do you remember when the comet dried up the ocean?”  The vagabond stared at him blankly, but nodded.  “Well, that was like losing someone you loved, wasn’t it?”

          Snufkin’s gaze softened, and he looked down at the water flowing beneath the bridge.  “I always did feel like the ocean took care of me.  It’s where I learned to fish.  When I was younger, I’d listen to the waves to help me fall asleep.”

          Sniff remembered the cockle shell sitting on his bedside table, his own present from the ocean, and nodded.  “And then suddenly it couldn’t take care of you anymore.  Even though it wasn’t your fault, it still hurt a lot, didn’t it?”

          “I remember wishing I had spent more time walking alone the coastline instead of going into the mountains.”  Snufkin looked back at Sniff, frowning.  “But then it came back.”

          “Exactly!  You had just accepted losing it forever, and all of a sudden it came back.  So even though you were happy, you were really shocked and confused, weren’t you?  It was as if all your tears weren’t worth anything.”  Sniff paused, feeling his own words sink in.  “But that’s not really true, because you really thought it was gone forever.  And you’re allowed to be upset about that.”

          Turning his pipe over and over in his paws, Snufkin tentatively asked, “that’s what reuniting with my parents should feel like?”

          Sniff shrugged.  “I mean, I can’t say how you should feel.  But it would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

          “Yes, I think it does.”  Snufkin nodded.  “Thank you.”

          Hopping off the rail, Sniff replied, “you’re welcome.  Goodnight, Snufkin.”

          Back inside the kitchen, Sniff noticed that Little My was missing.  Tiny white footprints leading to the dining room showed that she was off to cause mischief elsewhere.  With a snort, he picked up a broom and started sweeping the flour out the back door.  By the time the kitchen floor was clean, the first glimmers of morning sunlight were coming in the window.  Heavy footsteps on the stairs made Sniff prick his ears.  A few moments later, Moominmamma came into the kitchen.  Seeing Sniff, she exclaimed, “goodness, you’re up early!”

          “To be honest, I never really went to bed,” he admitted sheepishly.

          “Do you feel all right, my dear?”

          “I think so.”  Sniff paused, then said more firmly, “no, I am.  I was confused, but I sorted myself out.  I’m happy that Morsa and Farsa are back, and I’m sad that I had to lose them and grieve them, and that’s all fine.”

          After digesting this for a moment, Moominmamma gave him a nod.  “That’s very mature of you, Sniff.”

          He smiled weakly in return, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I guess.  I do wonder if I’m being selfish, though.”

          “Why would you say that?”

          “Well, I know my birth parents are back—and I love them dearly, I do!  But you and Moominpappa took care of me for so many years, and I love you both too, so…”  Sniff took a deep breath.  “Can I still call you my Mamma?

          Moominmamma pulled him into a hug.  With Sniff’s head against her chest, she whispered, “yes, my dear.  As long as you want me, I’ll always be your Mamma.”

          In Moominmamma’s arms, knowing that he had two whole sets of parents who loved him, Sniff thought he must be the richest person in the world.