Chapter Text
“You ready to go, then?”
Moomintroll snapped out of his thousand-yard stare to see Snorkmaiden resting on the veranda under the warm garden lights, looking as if she were waiting for something.
“Huh, what?”
“To walk me back home,” Snorkmaiden said, pulling the hood of her silk cape over her ears. “Surely you haven’t forgotten my address again, have you? ‘Cause I’ll lead.”
“Back home?” Moomintroll asked, slightly surprised. Looking out at the sky, he remembered that the full transition to summer and its long, bright days still hadn’t come yet. Twilight was fast approaching, and dusk was not too far behind.
“It’s a bit late, you know, you’re always welcome to stay the night until it’s… a bit lighter?”
“I can’t, sorry, it’s really important I bring these back”, Snorkmaiden raised her straw basket full of glowing and very delicious red apples. “Snork just built the most brilliant cider presser and I promised-”
“Ah, right, of course. Mind you, you probably wouldn’t want him catching this-” Moomintroll forced out a cough, “dreadful cold that’s been going round… I best stay home.”
“I’m sure my brother’s got bigger things to worry about than a bit of hayfever you had two weeks ago, Moomintroll,” Snorkmaiden replied drily, though she still smiled.
Moomintroll struggled to compose a better excuse and began to stutter again.
Snorkmaiden resigned, knowing she wasn’t going to get a different result if she pressed further. “Don’t bother, then, I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Here!” Moomintroll hustled a flashlight into her spare paw, which she clicked on and held at her side. “I, uh, bid you safe travels.”
“Thanks, love.” She replied kindly. After the two exchanged goodbyes and see-you-tomorrows, the maiden braved the night stroll through the woods alone.
The longer Snorkmaiden marched on, the more night began to overshadow the dusky twilight she’d parted with at Moominhouse’s front step. Soon, the path ahead became near impossible to see without the torch held at arm’s length. At this rate, the sky would be pitch black before she’d reach her front door, which was a little unnerving, but she could live with it.
Poor, timid old Moomintroll. The maiden did admire his sensitivity, of course, even if his silly excuses weren’t exactly helpful. Perhaps she’d have to be his knight in fluffy armour for a change, one of these days. Although a snork’s fur was no match for a struggle, but then neither was a moomin’s. Perhaps she’d just have to accept her big, soft Moomintroll the way he was.
Snap!
Snorkmaiden yelped at the sudden sound and found herself quickly backing away from where she thought she’d heard it. In doing so, she tumbled tail-first into something sharp that had snuck up behind her.
“Ah- OW! Watch it!”
Squinting, Snorkmaiden fixed her eyes on the gloomy shadow, cautious as to not let it leave her sight while she felt the cold ground beneath her for any apples that might have dropped. She raised her torch to reveal whatever dubious character she’d just bumped into.
That dubious character turned out to be the mangled remains of an oak tree that had possibly been struck by lightning, but the harsh shadows made for quite the haunting expression. It almost looked like… a ghost.
“Ah, of course.” Snorkmaiden relaxed, choosing to brush off the creepy illusion. “The imagination can play awful tricks, can’t it?”
Honestly, it was starting to become clear why Moomintroll was so hesitant to walk this way, although she still would have appreciated some company. The sun could tell you what was real and what was merely imagination, but it was nighttime, and the moon favoured mystery more than the sun ever dared. Oh, she could write a gothic novel!
As she recollected her supplies, Snorkmaiden noticed that the largest and reddest apple in her basket had flown into a blackberry bush behind her. And it was nestled between the thorns – typical. She plucked the apple out carefully, but as she placed it back with the others a pair of claws leaped out and seized the basket forcefully.
Snorkmaiden shrieked, pulling the basket back with all her strength. “No! Get off! This isn’t yours!”
The claws continued to tug.
“Y-you don’t want these!” She tried to negotiate through her panicked yell, and an unusual stinging in her arm. “Th-these are poisoned apples! Unless you have a prince to rescue you, then-”
Without thinking, Snorkmaiden took the torch and flashed it in the bush. The sudden bright light managed to frighten the creature but didn’t reveal it like she hoped. All she could see as it escaped was a dash of a silhouette scurrying into the night. She won.
“Oh no…” Snorkmaiden murmured. She’d only managed to salvage a few of the apples she originally had, and the handle on the basket had snapped, with the bottom of it torn. She cast the flashlight on her arm, and to her bewilderment, the struggle had somehow left three pink scars. That certainly explained the stinging. Not nearly enough bleeding to cause concern, but she still wanted to get home and clean it up, before another beast could do something worse.
And for the rest of Snorkmaiden’s journey home, she found herself walking faster, her hood pulled down further, her flashlight gripped tighter in her paw, and every muscle in her body tensed. How would she explain this to everyone else?
🗡 🗡 🗡
The following afternoon, Snorkmaiden brandished an umbrella at anything that moved in the woods. The leaves moved. Every shadow moved. Even the ground moved as insects and creeps crawled along. The knots of trees became eyes, and she was sure they followed her, even as she was too frightened to look back.
“What's the umbrella for?”
“Oi!” Snorkmaiden startled and swung her umbrella towards a voice. “Little My!” She thumped a tree.
“It’s not going to rain, is it?”
“Don't scare me like that!”
The clouds only drifted. It didn't look like rain. It was bright—the sky opened until the shadows didn’t spy. Snorkmaiden's umbrella-club looked silly, now, and she stuck it into the dirt. She could tell Little My her story. Perhaps “The Hooligan Thief,” or “The Woodland Bandit,” as she’d call it, for its justice. Neither would frighten Little My. She’d face whatever monster head-on without so much as an umbrella, which Snorkmaiden couldn't allow. Little My wasn't as mighty as she was small, so she had to take her story straight to Moominhouse.
“Uh, you never know…” Snorkmaiden said absently, “about the rain.”
When they arrived, Snorkmaiden shoved past Moomintroll—he’d panic and make it worse if he knew. She needed his parents.
“Moominmamma!” She scrambled into the kitchen. “There's a criminal loose in the woods, a monster! It scratched these marks down my arm, and it—it attacked me!”
“What marks?” asked Little My.
“They were there! And it tore the basket—all my apples!”
“Strike me pink…” Moominmamma sat with her as she collapsed into a chair. “Where did this happen?”
“Just—somewhere by my house.”
Dark and looming, Moominpappa’s snout shifted into the kitchen light. “Interesting…” he said, smoking pipe in paw. “So, you're looking for a way to defend yourself.”
“Am I?”
“Oh, yes. You'll need to be prepared the next time that thief comes along. With daunting expertise…he'll meet his maker.” He struck a chair with his foot. “I suppose I could teach you a thing or two. My treat.”
Now there was an idea.
Down in the cellar, Moominpappa rummaged through junk while the rest of the gang sat amidst it, wondering what sort of weapons he had in store. There were tennis rackets, scatter jacks, a cricket bat, a boomerang, a bow without arrows, a water pistol, a smoke bomb, and a wooden flute. He plucked up each of them, testing their durability on an old armchair before tossing them aside.
Snorkmaiden joined him, vaguely peeking into boxes and getting distracted by snowglobes. It would be thrilling if she could fight like a true heroine. Like the stories. Moomintroll would be impressed, and all of Moominvalley would thank her for vanquishing foes. Perhaps one day she’d teach the younger generations the ways of the—
“Psst.” Little My pointed ahead at something magnificent. In all its gleaming glory…a sword?
Angels sang over Moominpappa's story following it. It was shiny. It was thin. The blade started from the small dome above the handle and ended at a tiny point. Snorkmaiden could just see herself whipping it about the forest, slashing through every monstrous creature to come near. She’d spare those who cowered…save all the creatures in need of saving. The dawn of a new era.
She enjoyed being Moomintroll’s companion, yes, but sometimes it was he who needed protecting.
“My old épée,” Moominpappa said, “And a foil! That one belonged to my friend, Wrinkles. He and I go back… I learned all I know about fencing from our thrilling stay at the Riviera.”
Of course, Snorkmaiden heard none of this. It was smooth. Thin. Lightweight. All that mattered—and all that would matter from now on—was Sword.
🗡 🗡 🗡
Morale was high until they made it to the front garden. The garden as it was, overgrown and shabby, felt no more heroic than the cellar. And of course, it contained no real villains. Moominpappa perched himself upon a rock and showed Snorkmaiden where to stand, giving her the foil before his speech.
He rattled off about The Fencing of the Renaissance, a book of which he knew a hefty amount from his stay at the Riviera. Perhaps it could’ve been useful, but Snorkmaiden didn’t know where to put her paws. Or her elbows—she noticed they just hung there. Did they always hang like that? What was he on about now?
“Footwork! That’s the key.” Moominpappa kicked her feet left, then right, and centre again. “Just so.”
The hours passed by until the sun verged on evening time, catching Snorkmaiden's eyes each time Pappa circled her. She wondered if she'd ever get to fighting.
Moominpapa overlooked her wobbly knees, which were in better condition to snow ski, but he’d set her that way, so awkwardly, she kept the stance. The thief would just love to see her now.
“Light and nimble, keep it simple!” Moominpappa tweaked another part of her stance.
Nimble sounded like a word for longer legs than Snorkmaiden had.
“A snork's not quite…built that way,” she said.
“You are!” Moomintroll chipped in. “You can jump away from mice—you’re brilliant at it!”
Was he trying to be funny? It was more than mice they were talking about. Although, they would give her something to go off. She jumped, one foot to the other: left, right, a lunge, and a parry. It was sloppy work, but she kept speed with Moominpappa as he finally swung his épée, the wind picking up behind.
She battered him backwards. He countered with a side strike.
“Careful, dears!” said Moominmamma.
“You're not swinging hard enough!” Little My shouted from the crowd.
She swung harder. Her footwork was sporadic—she might have gotten her licks if it were a western shootout, jumping about, and Moominpappa used his rock as leverage. Moomintroll and Little My watched, followed by Snufkin who closed in from the bridge.
“You're not supposed to swing very hard in fencing,” Snufkin said.
“She’s too slow!”
“Not exactly, but—”
“Pick up the pace!”
“Keep your stance wide.”
“Keep your body lower!”
“Try feinting.”
“You should’ve gone with the cricket bat.”
“Quiet!” Snorkmaiden yelled.
She advanced—five quick steps,and whipped her sword. In a last indignant huff, she knocked Moominpappa onto the rock.
Crack!
Everyone jumped to their feet.
“Pappa!”
“Get the ref!”
Mortified, Snorkmaiden let the sword go. “So…sorry…” she apologised before stepping back.
Moominmamma ran forward and lifted Moominpappa easily, calling the match officially over—one to zero. Her eyes were gentle, but she looked pitifully at Pappa as he coughed up a storm.
“Stunn— ack! Stunning work, Snorkmaiden,” he wheezed. He threw his weight across Moominamma’s arms. “Quite a show! Hush, dear, really, I’m fine. I want to see you all tomorrow.”
She carried him inside quickly, leaving the rest to goggle.
“Well,” said Little My, “that went down like a lead balloon.”
Snufkin left Snorkmaiden with a polite nod. Moomintroll just looked embarrassed.
“Is everyone going?” Snorkmaiden asked. “I don’t suppose you could…help me home.”
Moomintroll smiled guiltily before stuttering something about making sure Pappa was all right. Moominpappa could be seen doing stretches on his feet inside, but he was already walking backwards.
“Come on, then,” said Little My.
Snorkmaiden kept a close distance behind Little My back in the woods; nothing could scare that girl. Between the dark spots under the canopy, she let Snorkmaiden gently take her shoulder.
“How was it, then?” Snorkmaiden asked. “The fighting.”
Fishing for compliments usually required bait, but it never worked with Little My. She would rather pull the hook and swim away.
“Sorry, pal. If you want the truth, you swing like a banshee.”
“Excuse you! I’m defending myself, not putting on a show.”
“Could've fooled me. You hardly pivot. A mugger would attack from all sides.” Little My jumped up and circled her, hitting a point on her lower back, her shoulder, and her belly. “Dead, dead, dead!”
“It is my first day, My. And not every thief is as small as you.”
“Oh, brother.”
“This one sure wasn’t…”
“Impress me, then we'll talk. Or you can fish for compliments in a different pond.”
“I'll walk on my own from here, thank you,” Snorkmaiden snapped.
“Don't let the Boogeyman get you!”
🗡 🗡 🗡
As dawn broke, Snorkmaiden was beginning to get a little more confident with her new foil blade, which she was allowed to take home for the night to practise proper grip. That was her homework. With how flexible and lightweight it was to handle, it felt a bit like a toy. She’d spent a lot of the previous night thinking about how rough her first lesson had gone but swore not to lose too much sleep over it, deciding that the second attempt could only be better.
On her way to Moominhouse, she chopped away the overgrowth in her path, imagining the thorns as her foe, causing a light rustle as branches and foliage fell to the ground.
“Oi! Do you mind?!” An owl protested from the inside of an oak tree.
Snorkmaiden turned to the elderly bird at her side and held the blade behind her back apologetically. “So sorry, mister, I was just – err – practising my technique! And taking care of the weeds at the same time…”
As she said that, she spun right back around in the direction of Moominhouse, dangerously close to swiping at the owl’s feet in the process and almost letting the sword tumble out of her paws again.
“Your ‘technique’, indeed!” The owl spat mockingly, “As if you’d have any need for a sword out here.”
“Of course I do. There's a dangerous criminal on the loose and a fencer-in-training must be prepared for anything.”
“She's right!” Added a young squirrel. “I had my acorns taken last night!”
Snorkmaiden smiled, pleased to have at least one alibi in this part of the wood.
“I’ll be out of your way now, sir, I have a lesson to get to!” And with that, she marched her way to Moominhouse, where the front lawn would soon become her battleground.
“And Groke knows she needs it, if she has any hope of salvaging that rubbish performance.” The owl grumbled to himself. He nestled back into his hole where he wouldn’t have to bother with such nonsense.
🗡 🗡 🗡
The owl’s words still loomed over Snorkmaiden like a bitter, black cloud. But she couldn’t let them bug her, she needed a clear mind for training. So instead, she focused on the blossoming crocuses around her, then how her dark eyes reflected in the metal handle of her sword. She looked a little braver, she thought.
“Ah, if it isn’t my star student!”
Snorkmaiden spun around and beamed. “Morning, Moominpappa!“
But her demeanour deflated a little when she saw how much he was struggling to carry himself. “I’m ready for my… lesson.”
“That’s my girl…!” Moominpappa strained, “Punctual, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, as a real swordfighter should be.”
He gasped in pain again, holding the base of his back for dear life.
Moominmamma led her husband to a chair in the audience that was cushioned with velvet pillows. “I’m not sure sparring in your condition is such a good idea, my love. If Snorkmaiden doesn’t mind,” She gave her a reassuring smile, “we could easily build her a training dummy for times like this. It would be no trouble at all.”
“No need, my darling. I promised Snorkmaiden a hands-on sparring session and that’s what she’ll get.”
The maiden froze. She had no idea she was going to have to spar! Now she wished she hadn’t zoned out so much the day before.
Moominpappa gave a whistle-call and Snorkmaiden’s new fencing partner promptly rose from the audience and approached.
“Snufkin was kind enough to volunteer as my understudy, so he'll be your opponent this week.”
Snorkmaiden lit up once more. “Wow, I didn't know you fenced, Snufkin!”
“I’ve picked up bits and pieces,” Snufkin said humbly.
Moominpappa cleared his throat. “First thing you both must remember when you duel - your incentive, your motivation. Buried deep in your gut is the reason you are standing here today. What, or who, do you fight for?”
What was Snorkmaiden fighting for? Did Snufkin even have an answer himself? For her, this whole ordeal was for self-protection, perhaps a bit of praise as well, but she wasn’t quite at that stage yet. She remembered what Little My had said the day before. But in the corner of her eye, she could still see Moomintroll on the bridge. Of course! Fighting for him would be the heroic thing to do, wouldn't it?
Yes. I know what I fight for.
“Duel to first blood!” Shouted Little My from the crowd.
“No blood will be drawn, young lady.” Moominpappa said sternly. “Now, stand en garde, and… Allez!”
The duel kicked off at once. Snufkin was a half-decent fighter, his quick-thinking and nimbleness giving Snorkmaiden little room for attack. Attempting to parry was too risky, so the most she could do was dodge when he would advance. She was starting to improve on her movement, making sure not to swing her blade so forcefully, but concentrating on that meant she left some weak spots wide open. In the first minute, she tripped and Snufkin scored his first point. The audience hummed in intrigue.
“Gain priority, Snorkmaiden!” Moominpappa would shout repeatedly from his seat, “observe his weaknesses!”
What weaknesses?!, she thought, he’s way too fast!
But she did notice one thing she could work with. She noticed Snufkin ducked quite a lot when dodging. If he did that too much, then…
“Don’t lose balance, Snufkin!” Moominpappa cut in. “Put some grease into it, remember what lights that fire in you!”
Moominpappa looked at Snorkmaiden and noticed she was retreating every second or so, taking very quick glances at the bridge from which Moomintroll was watching the battle intently. Then he looked back at the sparring pair. Such dissimilar, diametrically opposed, foes - somehow fighting for different outcomes… but the same prize.
“Snorkmaiden - Snufkin here has taken your muse with his charm! Whatever will you do?”
“I’ve done what?” Snufkin paused, before failing to dodge one of Snorkmaiden’s attacks.
“Poor, luckless Moomintroll…” Moominpappa shook his head with faux-sorrow, hat lowered to his chest. “Well go on, he’ll never be rescued until you defeat his capturer!”
“C- Capturer?!” Snufkin stuttered, confused and flustered by what Moominpappa’s idea of ‘fighting for someone’ would entail. It didn't sound good to him at all, he knew that much.
“Unbelievable!” Moomintroll scoffed in shock from his place on the bridge. “I’m no prize to be won! Who do they think they are?”
But then his annoyance vanished as he became too preoccupied with wondering why Snufkin would be fighting for such a prize to begin with.
“Is that right?” Snorkmaiden grinned, lunging in to fight with more determination than before, although she was shaking a little from the excitement. But Snufkin was approaching, cornering her against the veranda steps. Was that even allowed?! But she couldn’t run out of room at such a pivotal moment, they were both on two points each.
Quickly, Snorkmaiden jumped onto the top step, blocking Snufkin’s sweeps. It was hard for her to stay focused for so long when she was constantly tempted to look past her opponent and at the bridge. Her knees were trembling at this point and she felt her elbows dangle again.
“Your eyes are darting too much,” Snufkin said out of the blue.
“What?”
“You need to keep them fixed, so you can be prepared for something like…” Snufkin lunged and took a point at her side, “this!”
It was as if time had stopped with the duel. At first, Snorkmaiden looked down on where she was struck, but then her eyes fixed on the other weak spot that cost her that win – the one that wasn’t anywhere on her body, but she could see the whole time.
“And victory to Snufkin!” Moominpappa declared, paws resting proudly on the two fencers’ shoulders. He was still limping but it didn’t seem to bother him. “A remarkable effort, from both of you.”
The audience applauded and cheered. Sniff had been clutching his plush dog Cedric tight to his chest from the suspense and was totally in awe at the duel he just witnessed. A few of the hemulen police officers joked about who they’d have needed to arrest if the match got out of hand, and a set of hedgehog triplets were bickering over who really deserved that last point. Moominmamma had to settle all three of them with the bribe of a chocolate muffin.
“That was great, you two!” Moomintroll said, coming to the yard. “I could see you from the bridge. And well done on that last attack, Snufkin!”
Snufkin’s eyes lowered bashfully. “Thank you, but I’m still very much a beginner, myself.”
He glanced sincerely at his fencing partner to reassure her, and they both put away their swords.
After the crowd broke away, Snorkmaiden approached Snufkin by the jasmine bushes where he’d just finished having a one-to-one with Moominpappa on his performance. She cleared her throat.
“Thanks for the tip,” she said, paws knotted behind her back. “I mean it.”
“Of course,” Snufkin replied, “Once you have balance and concentration down, the rest follows naturally in no time.”
“Yeah. Although… you should try not to duck so often. I know what you’re like with falling over.” Snorkmaiden giggled.
“Hm,” Snufkin smiled, “Then it looks like we can both learn a thing or two from each other.”
They shook paws, and with that, the session was over. As the day went on, Snorkmaiden began to regret not asking Moominpappa for feedback as well, but she again heeded Little My’s warnings on fishing for compliments when she still had no real bait to her name.