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Chapter Text

Snufkin carefully placed his harmonica away in a pocket. There was a time for music and this was not it. The day was beautiful, the weather was mild, but not all was wonderful. There was a barely there itch across his shoulders, a vague sense of wrongness that made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The feeling of being watched was one the traveller was familiar with. It was never pleasant. The problem lay in who, or what, was behind the feeling.

His eyes scanned his surroundings from under the brim of his hat, trying to spot anything even slightly out of place. It could simply be a disgruntled soul that was unhappy about an unknown wanderer on their turf. It could be someone waiting for an opportunity to mug a lone traveller. It could be a predator simply looking to make a meal while it helpfully walked close by.

None of those options appealed to the mymble-mumrik hybrid.

Nothing stood out to his senses and Snufkin continued on, paws tightening their grip on the straps of his backpack. There was sudden rustling behind him, and he spun around, a net encompassing him. He yelped and flailed, stumbling to the ground with his backpack as a cushion, his forelimbs tangled. The net’s weave was very close-knit. Snufkin’s fingers fit through, though his whole paw was too large.

Not good.

“I got it!” cried a triumphant voice.

“Excellent aim!” crowed another.

The voices were loud and booming, making him wince at the volume. About a dozen or so feet away, from behind a large rock surrounded by thick shrubbery, came two large forms. The sunlight illuminated them and Snufkin gasped.

Humans!

“Quick, get it in the cage,” ordered one.

The hybrid frantically tried to scramble away, but his fingers were caught fast, and he wrenched them awkwardly and painfully as the net was scooped up, he along with it. He heard a metallic rattling and then he was all but dropped, net and all. There was a clank, and the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut.

“No, no, no, no, no!” he whispered breathlessly.

“Done!” announced the other. “Little fellow just netted us both a tidy sum.”

“Our client will be happy indeed, which will make us happier. Are you sure we didn’t just catch a runaway child, though? It didn’t look very otherworldly to me.”

“It was here, in the right spot,” came the confident reply. The cage was picked up, and the voice continued with a grunt. “You know some of these Fae Folk can be extra tricky. They can disguise themselves as all sorts of things, including humans. It’ll be up to our client to get it to reveal its true form or not.”

Fae Folk? Were these hunters? Not of game, or wild beasts, but of trolls and other such beings? It was a good thing they were here and not in Moominvalley. To think, he could have accidentally led them there on his trip back for Spring!

Sorry Moomin, he thought, but I fear I shall be late. If I make it back at all…

No, he couldn’t think like that. He was clever and agile. He would find a way to escape as soon as an opportunity presented itself. No hemulen jail could hold him, and this would be no different.

The cage was placed down and Snufkin heard large doors thunk shut. There was no light, even to his sensitive eyes, and his breath quickly turned the surrounding air warm and humid. He shuddered and wiggled his fingers, gritting his teeth as pins and needles took over them as blood flow was restored. A couple of minutes were spent untangling and retracting his fingers, pulling them close to his chest and flexing them slowly.

More doors, some muffled voices, then the very surface the cage rested on moved slightly as it rumbled to life. Snufkin’s stomach rolled unpleasantly as the cage lurched. He must be in some kind of vehicle that was now on the move, headed toward the client the hunters had spoken of.

He hunkered down, paws inching along as he tried to find the edge of the net. Getting out of it could only aid him, and it wasn’t as if there was much else for him to do currently.

Keeping track of time was near impossible. The vehicle rumbled on for a long time. It must have been hours as his stomach complained about being empty. Snufkin sighed and gave it a few pats. The net’s edge eluded him, and he groaned at how stale the air now felt. It was very hot and stifling, and he was very uncomfortable and sluggish. There was no strength left in his limbs, and barely any energy left in his entire body. If this kept up much longer, he would fall ill from the heat and dehydration.

The movement stopped and the rumbling ceased moments later. Doors opening and closing, footsteps, and voices followed before more doors were thrown open and the cage was grabbed.

His stomach rolled again as the humans hauled the cage through the air. It was a short walk, then the cage was placed on the ground. Knuckles rapped on wood and Snufkin froze, hardly breathing.

A door swung open. “Yes, yes, who is it? Oh, it’s you two. You’re back already? And what’s this?”

“Why, it’s just what you ordered, sir!” said one of the hunters.

“Hmm. I’ll be the judge of that. Bring it inside.”

The cage was moved once more. They stopped briefly, then it was hoisted up high and tilted sharply. Keys jangled, the lock clicked open, and Snufkin tumbled out with a yelp, still ensnared in the net, landing with a thump. The net was roughly wrestled off him and a solid thud banged above him.

Several seconds went by as he tried to reorient himself, finally standing up on wobbly legs. His hat was laying by his feet, but he didn't feel steady enough to bend down and snatch it, so he looked up.

He was in a large box made of some transparent material, placed against one wall of what was clearly some sort of laboratory. The two hunters stood to one side of the box, the cage on the ground next to their legs. Directly in front of his new prison was a third human.

Their eyes locked and a cold chill shot down Snufkin’s spine.

It was a thin man, about twice Snufkin’s height like the hunters, with dark grey clothes partially hidden by a long, white lab coat. Blue-grey eyes swept over him assessingly, narrowing under dark brows that matched pepper-streaked hair.

“It looks like a human child at first glance, but if you look closely…” the man said, a thin finger pointing at Snufkin. “The proportions are wrong for a child. It’s no dwarf, either. Nothing is misshapen. This looks like a perfectly proportioned young adult human in miniature. All signs point to this being a member of the Fae Folk indeed!”

“As promised,” one of the hunters said proudly.

“Yes, yes, marvellous! Let me get your payment, gentlemen.”

Snufkin had been caught and sold like some sort of pet! The humans left the room, and he immediately put his hat back where it belonged, ignoring the lingering light-headedness to poke around his prison. Here was his first chance to try and escape.

The clear material was not glass and resisted his efforts to push or smash his way out. It was thicker than it seemed and far more durable than he’d feared. His fingers only brushed the lid when he stood on the tips of his toes. There were a number of small holes in the lid, presumably air holes, but the entire lid was a moot point for him without leverage.

He was stuck. He doubted his can opener would get him out of this one.

The traveller sat his backpack in one corner, wondering if it would be taken from him. His stomach gurgled again. Snufkin had a few rations left, but they wouldn’t last long, especially with no way to cook. All he wanted was to enjoy some stew by a fire.

The human returned and Snufkin stood there, hands by his side, watching silently through the all but invisible wall. They approached and sat on the floor, now almost eye level with him.

“Well, well. What are you, then? I don’t suppose you’ll tell me your name, will you?” they asked.

Snufkin simply stared. Perhaps they would let him go if he proved to be too boring to study.

“Now, now, I want us to get along. My research indicates that telling you my name would go poorly for me, so you may call me Professor,” the man said in a friendly tone. He waved a hand at his captive. “And I call you…?”

No words passed Snufkin’s lips, but his stomach growled loudly.

The man chuckled. “I suppose I’ll call you hungry for the moment. I have an assortment of food. What would you like?”

Snufkin continued to quietly stare. The only parts of him that moved were his eyelids when he blinked, and his chest as he breathed.

“Don’t be like that, my little friend. How about some fruit?”

Fruit sounded amazing, but he only blinked in reply. The man got up and walked out of the room. Snufkin braced one boot against a wall and leapt, trying to catch the rim of one of the holes. He missed, fingers jamming painfully as his boot slipped with a loud squeak. He fumbled the landing, ending up on his butt, his legs splayed.

The man entered the room again, but Snufkin was too tired to stand back up. He could stare just as well while sitting. A hatch in the lid, hard to see, was slid open with a click, and several objects were dropped inside. An apple, a pear, and a couple of other fruits rolled away across the floor of the box as the hatch was swiftly closed with another distinctive click.

“There you go, eat whatever you like,” the professor urged.

Snufkin wanted to refuse on principle, but his empty stomach made him reach out for the apple – the fruit closest to paw. He scrutinised it carefully, even giving it a cautious sniff, but could find no evidence of foul play. He bit into it and tasted nothing amiss. A conscious effort was made to eat the rest at a pace considered polite, until only the core remained.

The scratching sound of a pen on paper filled the room once he stopped eating. Professor was writing in a book, probably taking notes, though watching someone eat an apple was not Snufkin’s idea of interesting. He was still hungry, paws itching to grab another piece, though he was hesitant. He would wait to see if the apple left him with any undesirable side effects.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the rustle of paper and scratching of pen. Snufkin reached out and began to eat another piece of fruit. The noise of the pen picked up its pace as the owner wrote down their newest observations. He was still only eating fruit and having someone write about him doing so felt awkward.

Still, as long as Professor stuck to writing then Snufkin could manage for a while. Weird though it may be, at least it was passive and benign.

After finishing the second fruit he had to frown at his sticky paws. He had tried to be careful, as there was no river nearby to wash up with but had lost the battle. The hatch was opened again, and a small towel and a canteen were dropped inside.

“There you go, my little friend. It’s only water, I’m afraid. I have no use or desire for any sort of sweet drink, but I do have milk if you would like some?” Professor asked. He waited for an answer, though sighed as none was forthcoming.

Snufkin snatched up the towel and immediately cleaned his paws, not caring one whit for getting the cloth dirty. The man had given it to him with the expectation that it would be used after all.

The man, sitting on the floor again, scooched forward until his knees bumped into the transparent wall. “I do hope they weren’t rough with you. I can't see any injuries, but eyes alone are sometimes not enough for that. It may not feel like it to you, but I’m not your enemy. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?” he asked, voice returning to those friendly tones.

“Freedom,” said Snufkin before he could stop himself.

The professor smiled widely. “Ah, you can speak! I’m sorry to lock you up, but I need you to stay here so I can get to know you. I’ll let you go after. So, the quicker we get started, the quicker it will be over! To start, what’s your name?”

Did this human think he was born yesterday? That was the biggest load of twaddle he had ever heard! Snufkin gave the man a flat stare.

“Not very trusting, are you?” the man said with a sigh. “I suppose that is simply your nature. Not to worry, we have time.”

Snufkin shuddered.

“Do you have a blanket in that pack of yours? Are you cold? I can get you a nice, warm blanket to wrap up with.”

The hybrid’s stare morphed into a glare. If only being a bit chilly was his biggest and only problem. He wasn’t even cold; it was only the chilling thought of spending time here. Snufkin crossed his legs, and his arms, looking rather like a petulant child.

“You don’t seem keen to share your name, but what about your age?” Professor inquired.

Snufkin almost snorted at that. He wasn’t even sure how old he truly was, there was no way this human was going to find out.

“You are stubborn. You look young, but I know Fae Folk can appear child-like while being centuries old, so one simply cannot guess your age.”

Okay, he might not know his exact age, or even when his birthday is, but he did know he was far from being centuries old. Would pretending he was old and powerful help his escape? Probably not with the amount of research this human seems to have done. Knowing his luck, Snufkin would get himself in trouble with the act.

“I wouldn’t want to offend you,” Professor said in a prompting manner.

Well, it was far too late for that.

Professor shook his head and stood up, dusting off his lab coat. “I suppose only time, patience, and dedication will change your mind. Ah, before I forget. There is a sliding panel in the floor of one corner for when you need to answer nature’s call.”

That got a raised eyebrow, though he was secretly appreciative. That was not something that would’ve crossed his mind until things started getting dire.

“It’s mid-afternoon, and I have things to do. I’ll be around, so take some time for yourself, and shout if you need me,” the man said. Then he walked out of the room to do who knows what.

Things to do, huh? Snufkin couldn’t help but wonder what, exactly, the professor did. Research, obviously, but did they research anything other than the Fae Folk and various other things that were quickly becoming more myth than reality to humans? Did they study something practical, like Mr Hemulen and his plants? Were they more like Snork, figuring things out and designing, creating, and building?

Was this strange box one of the man’s inventions?

Snufkin got up and placed a palm flat against a wall. It didn’t matter what the human did, the hybrid was still an unwilling captive in a place he didn’t know the location of. The odd material wasn’t cold at least, and it was slowly heating up under the warmth of his palm. A thought of burning his way free flashed through his mind.

It was not an option he could try – he had nothing to burn.

The slight weight of his harmonica in his pocket was reassuring yet sad. He was glad to still have it, but this was no place for his music. The notes should be free, enjoyed and enhanced by the surrounding nature, not caged and a source of entertainment for his captor. No, he would not play in this prison. Snufkin eyed his backpack. Who knows when it would get taken away, so he may as well keep his instrument on his person.

Snufkin picked up the canteen that was dropped in with the towel. He unscrewed the lid and raised it to his nose, taking a few tentative sniffs. It smelled a little metallic, but it was hard to tell if something was in the water or if it was the canteen itself. He still had his own canteen, but it wouldn’t last long.

He cupped his right paw and tipped some of the liquid into it. He sniffed it again. It was clear, and now odourless, presenting as nothing but water like the professor said. A pink tongue flicked out to lap at the water. It tasted fine, if a bit warm. He tipped the rest onto the towel and wiped his paw dry, not quite ready to trust it.

He’d already eaten the human’s fruit. If something had been slipped to him, it was probably in his system now. Still, the seeds of doubt were rooted too firmly in the back of his mind to trust the water as well.

There was nothing to do in the cage, especially since he’d decided music was not an option. A weight dragged down at him, the events of the day catching up with him and settling in as exhaustion. Snufkin wiggled his backpack into a corner and curled up, using it as a pillow. He didn’t want to unpack his bed roll as that would feel more permanent, and the man might think Snufkin was getting comfortable.

His eyelids drooped but sleep was not within his grasp. Thoughts raced around his mind, tripping and stumbling over each other, making his gaze shift uneasily around the room.

There was equipment in the room that Snufkin recognised from Snork’s workplace, and a number of things that he didn’t recognise at all. He hoped their uses were benign. Nothing looked particularly lethal at first glance, but even the most beautiful vistas could hide enormous danger.

He rested his paws near his neck, and his legs were folded, knees tucked up near his chest. His green smock covered most of him, leaving his boots sticking out. He sat up as the professor entered the room and started fiddling around at a desk. The man’s body blocked Snufkin’s view but he watched anyway.

The human was muttering non-stop although it wasn’t loud enough for Snufkin to make any of it out. Things were crushed, sorted, measured, tipped, and poured. The constant under the breath chattering made Snufkin feel very awkward and uncomfortable. This was the domain of some sort of scientist, and who knew how Snufkin factored into his work and experiments.

A tiny fire was lit, heating up a glass vial full of something he couldn’t quite see. His mind instantly went to dark options. Poison, a paralysing agent, some sort of narcotic. Was he the intended recipient?

It could honestly be something like medicine, completely benign if not helpful. But Snufkin couldn’t reconcile the kind of person that paid hunters to catch someone and then hold them prisoner, with someone working on medicinal things.

The professor was writing notes again, though this time it seemed to be about his work at the desk instead of Snufkin. That was far less creepy. Snufkin approved. The man didn’t even appear to be aware of his captive anymore.

As much as Snufkin didn’t want the professor’s attention on him, he didn’t want to end up wasting away due to being forgotten either. It would be bad enough if he was gone from Moominvalley too long and all of his friends forgot about him.

Snufkin gradually laid back down. The box was definitely not the most comfortable place, and the lack of nature bothered him, but he had to make do. Sleep began to claw at his mind and body, though a streak of fear in his system kept it at bay.

What would happen when he fell asleep? Would the human try anything? Would liberties be taken? Would he wake up before anything happened? The thought of the human leaving him alone for the night didn’t even stand out as a possibility.

This was wrong. So very, very wrong.

A human should not be keeping any kind of troll captive. Interactions with humans had grown less over the last several decades, and now it was considered unofficially taboo. Snufkin had seen them from a distance now and then during his winter travels, but that was as close as he’d ever gotten. Until now.

He sighed softly, his warm breath ghosting over his hands.

Chapter Text

The light that came through the one window Snufkin could see gradually turned yellow, then grew darker and darker until the professor was forced to flick on the light switch. The artificial light was harsh on Snufkin’s eyes, and he hissed and winced when it happened.

The man worked for hours, stopping only once to peek at his prisoner. Snufkin stubbornly stayed awake, watchful and tense, until the man finally bid him goodnight and disappeared further into the building after switching off the light.

Snufkin yawned, flinching when his jaw gave a loud crack. Professor didn’t come back, and he slumped before stretching, trying to ease all of the accumulated tension from his muscles. His jaw and shoulders hurt quite a bit, and his head was beginning to pound dully. He took off his hat and set it aside, rubbing little circles around his temples. His eyes slid shut.

A quick jolt had him sitting up straight, eyes snapped open. He’d nearly nodded off. Snufkin stood up and slowly paced around the box. It was about six feet long and jutted out from the wall around four feet. Smaller than a prison cell. At least the movement was enough to help keep him awake.

The hybrid really wanted to take his boots off, curl up on his bed roll, get as comfy as possible, and sleep until he naturally woke up. But this was not his tent, and he was not wandering free in nature on his way back to Moominvalley. He could not afford to let his guard down here, even the slightest bit. There could be no chink in his armour. This human could not be allowed to exploit him, for research or any other reason.

The only light came from the window, where the moonlight valiantly tried to reach the vagabond. He commended its efforts even as he mourned its failure. He placed his paw against the transparent wall, wishing with all of his might that he could feel the cool rays, sighing heavily as his warm breath briefly misted the wall.

Snufkin paced, sat, paced, sat, while the night creeped onward. He stifled his yawns as best he could while the light transitioned from grey to a vague yellow.

Dawn.

“Good morning my little friend!”

A bleary blink at the doorway revealed the professor. The man looked bright eyed and bushy tailed, figuratively speaking. It irritated Snufkin immediately. He stared back, trying very hard not to scowl, hands back at his sides.

“You look tired. Did you not sleep? I assumed you had bedding, but I am happy to supply you with all manner of pillows and blankets. Enough to create a lovely, soft nest if you so desire. Would you like some?” the human asked, eyes roving over Snufkin’s form.

Snufkin continued to stare and remained silent.

Professor sighed. “I’ll get you some anyway. I want you to be comfortable and happy here as my guest,” he said before walking back out of sight.

The traveller clenched his hands into fists. Comfortable? Happy? This human was delusional! The urge to kick the wall was strong, but he figured his foot, even protected by his boot, would lose that battle. It would be that much harder to escape if he was slowed down by a limp. He unclenched his hands as the man returned, two bed pillows and a large blanket in his arms.

The hatch was snapped open, and the pillows were squished inside before the blanket was stuffed in and the hatch was shut. Snufkin backed up while the box was filled. He was now separated from his backpack by a mountainous wall of soft, squishy comfort.

“Hold on a moment and I’ll get you some fruit for breakfast,” Professor said brightly.

More fruit sounded wonderful. Snufkin almost growled. He was ready to tear his hair out the moment the man disappeared again. He channelled that energy into pouncing on the mountain, hastily scrambling over it, pressing it down at the same time. Once reunited with his backpack, Snufkin rammed the bedding to the other side of the box, just in time for Professor to get back with a fruitful bounty.

This time Snufkin was ready. The moment the hatch was snapped and slid open, Snufkin leapt, fingers catching the edge. The man shouted in surprise and the hybrid, with a grunt of effort, heaved himself up. Various fruit rained down on him, and large hands slammed down – one on his bare head, the other on his exposed fingers. Snufkin yelped and lost his grip, hitting the floor quite hard.

The hatch slid shut with a loud click.

“Now, now, none of that,” the professor said lightly. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but you startled me.”

Snufkin rolled over and gingerly stood up. His knees, fingers, head, and tailbone hurt. He grabbed an apple and, staring pointedly at his warden, savagely bit into it.

The human merely smiled.

A growl was building in Snufkin’s throat though he held it back. At least the apple should help keep him awake – apple juice was very effective, and a great substitute when he ran out of coffee. When apples were available at least. He put the core aside with those from yesterday and grabbed a second apple, biting into this one with less force. This core was set aside as well. Snufkin blatantly refused the other fruit and sat down, crossing his arms and legs, and staring at the man from behind his fringe.

Professor was still smiling, standing there and calmly watching.

It was unnerving. Not that Snufkin would ever admit it outside of his own mind. The man turned away and Snufkin let out a tired sigh. He grit his teeth as Professor sat down in front of the box with his notebook and pen. He couldn’t see what was being written, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but how often could the guy write about Snufkin eating apples before there was nothing else to write?

Minutes ticked by. Snufkin’s eyes grew heavy, his vision blurred, and his head fell forward onto his chest. Everything went dark and silent.

The professor’s serene smile became an eager grin, and he hopped to his feet.

The mymble-mumrik’s eyes cracked open. A blurry ceiling swam into view, and he blinked several times to bring it into focus. His mouth felt fuzzy, as though it was stuffed with cotton balls. He licked his lips and tried to move his head. He failed.

Snufkin shot awake.

“Ah, there you are. I was afraid the dose may have been too much, especially since I had to guess, and I wasn’t sure how much you would eat.”

Snufkin tried to move all four limbs, only to discover them tightly bound in place. No. No, no, no, no, NO!

“It is useless to struggle, my little friend. You will only end up hurting yourself. There is no need for this to be painful or difficult for you, so please calm down. Will you tell me your name?”

The professor’s tone was gentle and soothing, but it only invoked fear and anger in Snufkin. He finally let loose that growl – a raw, frustrated sound that ripped from his throat.

“I doubt that’s your name, unless it’s an animalistic language,” Professor said mildly. “Either way, I would appreciate a name I can pronounce.”

Large fingers pushed open his white undershirt, baring his naked chest, and it was only then that Snufkin realised he was missing his yellow scarf and green smock. The end of a stethoscope covered his skin and Snufkin shivered at the cold instrument. Some numbers and notes were added to the notebook as his heart raced in the human’s ears. He thrashed around, desperately trying to free even one limb.

The stethoscope was removed and a human hand covered his torso and pressed down, making him wheeze for breath as his flailing was severely restricted. Snufkin fell still except for trying to fill his squashed lungs with oxygen. The hand was lifted, and he gasped, sucking in deep breaths.

“You’re going to hurt yourself and I don’t want that. Everything I’m doing is painless – completely harmless. You’re in no danger here. It will all go much easier if you cooperate with me,” Professor said.

Snufkin was completely in over his head. Playing strong and silent was getting him nowhere. “You have no right to keep me here,” he said as evenly as he could manage.

“Once I get my answers, I’ll let you go, as I told you before.”

“So, you’ll keep me prisoner against my will until you’re satisfied?”

“You will be my guest until my research is concluded. You will want for nothing while you’re here.”

“Except freedom.”

The professor sighed. “If you would stop focusing on the negative, I am sure you would have a much better experience.”

“I don’t want any part of this experience,” Snufkin said firmly.

“Please tell me your name.”

Snufkin groaned. The man shrugged and grabbed a tape measure, holding it against and around Snufkin’s chest, abdomen, neck, arms, legs, and head, happily scribbling down each result. Yes, it certainly didn’t hurt physically, but the violations of his personal space hurt his very soul. No one needed to know such details about Snufkin – not even Snufkin himself.

“You’re cruel,” the vagabond said minutes later.

“I’m really not,” the man replied. “You’re the one making this a bad thing. I want us to be friends.”

The urge to spit in the human’s face was nigh irresistible. Would it help, even slightly, if he acquiesced? “What’s your name?” he asked.

Professor smiled. “I know the tricks your kind like to indulge in. Giving you my name will not end well for me. Giving me your name will simply result in me knowing your name.”

It was pointless to try and explain that he did not possess the power of a Fae. Names held no supernatural power for him whatsoever. Mymbles and mumriks, and Snufkin, were species of troll, not fairy. It came down to preference. Would he prefer to be addressed by his name or as the man’s little friend, which he decidedly was not.

“...Snufkin.”

“Snuf…kin? Is that your name?”

“Yes,” he answered somewhat reluctantly.

“Splendid!” the professor exclaimed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Are you thirsty? I should have asked when you woke up, I do apologise. Water? Milk? Juice? I don’t have any juice. Can you drink milk?”

“Are you going to slip something in it?”

“I apologise for that too. But no, I won’t add anything,” the man said, staring Snufkin right in the eye.

The hybrid didn’t believe him, but he had little choice; he was tired of tasting cotton. “Water is fine.”

“So that’s a no for the milk? Is it a species thing or are you lactose intolerant?” the man asked even as he got up and left.

How did he expect Snufkin to answer if he wasn’t around to hear it? Professor returned in short order holding a glass full of water. It was brought to Snufkin’s lips and tilted. He slowly swallowed several small mouthfuls, grateful that the fuzzy taste and feeling was finally gone.

“I can drink milk,” Snufkin said, “I just didn’t want any.”

“Good to know, good to know. I haven’t found any injuries, and you seem healthy otherwise. Well, as far as I can tell.”

Wait… Professor had been serious about hoping he wasn’t injured? That was strangely nice, although it didn’t negate the horrible experience of being kidnapped and held against his will.

“Although…” The stethoscope returned and everything was quiet for a few moments. “Just as I suspected.”

Snufkin raised an eyebrow.

“Your heart rate was elevated earlier. I wanted to be sure I had the right numbers,” the man said, placing the medical instrument to one side and jotting down the new result in his notebook.

The hybrid huffed. “Are we done here?”

“No.”

A short, blunt, very honest answer. It made Snufkin frown.

“Open your mouth, please,” the man requested.

Snufkin considered ignoring the request, but then the man would likely only force the issue and stick his fingers in Snufkin’s mouth to pry his jaws open. So, he complied.

Professor leaned in close and shined a small flashlight. “You appear to have all of your teeth, and in good condition, along with healthy gums and such. I thought your canine teeth would be more pronounced,” he said absently.

If Snufkin knew what species he was, he would know specifics like that. He shared a handful of similarities with mymbles, but also enough differences to be sure he wasn’t one. He certainly wasn’t a hemulen or a fillyjonk, nor was he close to being a moomin or snork. He was nothing like Sniff or Stinky either. If Snufkin didn’t have pronounced canine teeth then it was because snufkins weren’t supposed to have them.

“You can close your mouth now,” the man said.

The flashlight disappeared and hands were on his head. Fingers parted his hair and felt along his skull, and he couldn’t even jerk his head away because of a strap across his forehead. In one way the hands through his hair felt rather nice, and he imagined how good it would feel if it were one of his friends – especially Moomin, or even Moominmamma. But then the reality of who owned these particular hands slammed into him and ripped away all pleasant feelings.

“Don’t touch me!” Snufkin hissed.

“Now, now, no need to get snippy. I’m checking for bruising, parasites, contusions, and the mobility of your skull plates.”

Snufkin had no idea about skull plates, but he knew about the other things. “I do not have parasites!” he said, feeling offended. He may be a vagabond with clothes a bit on the ragged side, but he was a clean individual.

The man raised one eyebrow at him. “It never hurts to check. I need to be thorough. Your cranial sutures tell me that your species is different from humans, or you are not yet even a young adult. Your hair is surprisingly soft for how spiky it appears. Kitten soft, in fact. Fascinating! You must indeed be young! So, now will you tell me your age?” he asked.

“No,” said Snufkin, just as bluntly as Professor had before. Did his skull really give away his age? He’d never heard of such a thing before!

“Well, all the evidence I have gathered thus far marks you as a child, so that is how I will proceed,” the man said.

“You would keep a child prisoner?”

“A guest,” Professor reiterated emphatically.

“An unwilling guest is still a prisoner,” Snufkin said staunchly.

The hands left his head, his hair now in far more disarray than usual, and Snufkin eyed the thin man warily. He was a bug under a magnifying glass; a specimen in the hands of one of those people that stuck pins into things and proudly displayed them. He was on more of a rack than a board, but the vulnerability was just as visceral.

“Will you cooperate and go back to your things quietly?”

“You mean, will I voluntarily go back inside a cage like a tame, docile pet?” he said snarkily.

Professor sighed loudly. “I was hoping to avoid further unpleasantness.”

“If that were true then you would let me go.”

“You’re a very cynical being.”

“Just practical and honest,” said Snufkin. He laid there, limbs still spread and waiting for something to happen. Being strapped down was not exactly comfortable and he very much wished to be free. It was a good chance for another escape attempt, and it was clear that the human was aware of that fact.

“Do you have a family?” the man asked out of the blue.

“No,” Snufkin answered honestly.

“Then where did you come from? No parents?” he asked incredulously.

“The river in a forest,” the troll said, once again in complete honesty. The human could go and investigate all the rivers he wanted, but the odds of him finding someone in a box like Snufkin had been found were astronomically tiny.

The professor leaned in close again, eyes and fingers running over Snufkin’s hands, neck, shoulders, and ribs. “You don’t appear to possess scales, webbing, and gills, or anything else one would typically associate with a water creature,” he remarked.

Of course not. The river hadn’t given birth to him, just borne him from who knew where. Snufkin had a mother and father that had come together to conceive him, but that didn’t mean he had parents. He had been without for as long as he could remember, and parents were not truly parents unless they raised you. Snufkin didn’t feel like explaining any of this however, so the human was free to draw his own conclusions. The idea of him being anything like the mermaids he’d seen tickled his funny bone.

“By all of the evidence I have gathered so far, you are eerily similar to a human being, just smaller. I can’t tell if you’re mimicking, or if this is simply how you are. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me either.”

He was the way he was; no magic was involved. The closest thing he knew of was the colour changing abilities snorks held. Snufkin kept his words to himself. He would probably be wasting his time trying to explain the differences between trolls and fairies. Humans weren’t supposed to know anyway.

The time when humans could safely interact with trolls or fairies was long gone.

“Your heart and lungs are in the same place as a human, but there is no way to confirm much else without looking inside,” Professor said.

His eyes lingered on the bare skin still clearly visible between the troll’s clothing. Snufkin shuddered as his mind supplied him with vivid images of a sharp blade slicing that skin open, blood pouring down, then the bones being sawn through to reveal vulnerable, pulsing organs, his innards, and life, completely at the human’s mercy. Large fingers poking around where nothing should touch. An errant flick of fingers easily destroying an important, fragile organ. And through it all, the human kept Snufkin awake and aware, able to feel absolutely everything. Watching his own lungs quickly inflate and deflate as he panted. His eyes drawn to the desperately pounding heart between them, struggling to keep up but unable to stop.

Snufkin sucked in a sharp breath and willed the tears away as best he could. He turned his mind to nature to banish the gruesome imagery. Memories of flowers, of mountains, of rivers and rainbows, of sunrises and sunsets that painted the sky like a master artist. Of blue skies, white, fluffy clouds, and storms that dazzled with streaks of lightning and refreshed with a downpour of rain.

The professor didn’t seem to notice Snufkin’s agitated state, which suited him fine as he calmed himself back down. The vagabond hadn’t even known his imagination was that…accomplished. It was frightening. He tugged fruitlessly at the restraints.

Snufkin needed the restraints gone. He needed his hat and smock back. He needed his backpack. He needed his harmonica. He needed to be out of this building. He needed to be back amongst nature.

He wanted to be in Moominvalley.

Chapter Text

Being strapped down was not something on Snufkin’s list of things to do before he died. Not that there was really anything on the list in the first place. There were things that Snufkin never wanted to do, or have happen to him, but he never kept a list of any of them.

He was waiting to be freed. Him getting free of these straps was the first step to him getting free of this human, then getting free of this building, then getting back to his wonderful life of freedom. The ability to do what he wanted, when he wanted, to walk and rest, to forage and catch food, and enjoy the breeze and beautiful sky.

The professor grabbed his face, putting pressure on his cheeks and forcing his lips and jaws open slightly. An open-ended syringe slipped between lips and teeth and the plunger was pressed. A bitter liquid hit his tongue, and he tried to pull back, scowling darkly.

Snufkin tried to snap his jaws shut. Tried to pull away. Failed at both. The fingers holding the syringe disappeared, only to press gently on his throat and rub down its length as the one pressing his cheeks moved to cover his nose and mouth. Snufkin snorted, trying to spit the stuff out. He choked, mind blank except for panic, and tears blurring his vision. After several terrifying seconds the movements against his throat made him swallow.

Both hands left his person and Snufkin coughed and spluttered, trying to expel the leftover liquid and draw in all the air he could simultaneously. It didn’t work very well and left him with a sore throat and tears running down the sides of his face.

“I didn’t want to do that,” Professor said softly.

If ever there was a time he wanted to say bad words, it was now. Snufkin wouldn’t. His personal morals seemed skewed to others, but he would uphold them all the same. This human lied to justify his actions. Professor had done quite a few things he had stated he didn’t want to. No one was forcing the thin man to do anything. If he truly hadn’t wanted to do those things then they would not have been done, plain and simple.

There was a line of fire from his mouth, all the way down his oesophagus, and into his stomach, where it burned hot and bright. The rest of him was vaguely warm at best. His fingers were cold and quickly verging on freezing. His toes weren’t far behind, having the advantages of socks and boots. Now his ears and nose were following the odd trend.

Shivers began to wrack his body. Snufkin barely felt anything. His whole body was heavy. Heavy, cold, and numb. And he was so very, very tired. Was he still shivering? It didn’t matter; he couldn’t stay awake for even a moment longer. The physical world, and his consciousness, slipped away from him.

When the world decided to include Snufkin again, he didn’t budge an inch. Not that he could if he tried. A small wiggle revealed that he was wrapped up tightly in a blanket, swaddled like an infant. It took a massive amount of effort to open his eyelids, and the eyes they protected refused to process any of the new stimuli for a long moment.

The cotton was back in his mouth, and now also his head, enveloping his brain and slowing his thoughts down to a sluggish crawl. He was awake, though it felt as if the Earth was continuing to rotate without him, leaving him in this odd bubble.

His friends had been in bubbles before. Had Moomin, Snorkmaiden, and Little My felt like this while they floated along? There was no witch to save Snufkin. No Snork to burst that bubble. 

How he wished to hear her cackling before she was somehow whisking him away on her beloved broomstick. To drop him in front of Snork, who would free him from the bubble he was currently trapped in.

Languid blinks used up all the energy his body managed to store. A black tube was visible in his peripheral vision, catching his lethargic attention as it moved. The sound of a pen on paper very close by helped bring his mind into sharper focus.

“Heart rate is now at a healthier resting range since consciousness has been regained,” said the professor’s voice. A hand moved his fringe and covered his forehead for several seconds before vanishing. “Temperature is also raised to a normal level via basic forehead check. Will confirm with a mouth thermometer momentarily.”

Snufkin’s brain had barely worked through those words when something was slid into his mouth and under his tongue.

“Don’t move that and don’t bite down on it. Do you understand, Snufkin?”

Don’t move and don’t bite? That was easy, he didn’t possess the energy for it anyway. He made a bleary noise of assent. After a small eternity that went by in the blink of an eye, the thing was removed and Snufkin spent a whole ten seconds trying to get rid of the strange taste by licking the back of his teeth.

“Normal temperature is confirmed from the reading of the thermometer. Excellent. Nearly lost you there. But don’t you worry, I know better for next time now. I feel confident enough in your health now to leave you back in your room.”

Wait, wait… What? Nearly lost him? Not a box floating in a river lost, but lost from life? Not philosophically, lost from purpose in life, but lost from the very connection of life. The final sleep. Death.

Had the human nearly killed him? Was that why he was so physically and mentally out of sorts?

That liquid he’d been forced to drink had to be the culprit. Snufkin couldn’t accept any more food or drink from the human. Each bite or sip could be his last. With minimal rations of food and water in his backpack, Snufkin would need to escape within the next couple of days. If he failed, he would face a slow death by dehydration.

If he had indeed escaped death earlier, then he may not be up to trying to escape. Snufkin sighed. It didn’t matter – it had to be done. He would have to push through if he wanted to live. The hybrid needed to take this step by step. The first step was getting free of the swaddling blanket. Snufkin remembered being cold, but now he was getting overheated.

Straps across his body were undone, the black tube – which he could now identify as the stethoscope – was taken away, and he was lifted, still in his cocoon, into the human’s arms. He wriggled and kicked but it hardly made a difference. Snufkin was currently too weak. He was placed inside the transparent box and the lid was secured.

The professor called it his room. It was not a room by any stretch of the imagination, nor did Snufkin want any sort of claim to it. Locked away again.

His pool of strength was extremely shallow right now, so he had to be methodical. Snufkin alternated moving each arm and leg, pushing the blanket a little further away. His limbs were slow to respond, invisible cannonballs shackled around wrists and ankles weighing down every movement. But bit by bit he was succeeding. Then there was enough space for him to crawl free from the blanket, and he emerged like a butterfly.

At least he didn’t need to dry any wings.

He laid there, attempting to breathe deeply instead of panting. He could make a little lumpy mountain out of the blanket and pillows that he could use to help reach the lid of the box. Snufkin just had to wait for the human to leave the room long enough to try. But if he really had been close to the brink then the professor was probably going to hover like a mother hen.

Snufkin channelled all of his focus and energy into his arms and paws. He pushed his body off the floor excruciatingly slowly, sliding his knees up to hold his weight. He paused on all fours, limbs trembling from the strain, and beads of sweat dotting his face.

“You should be resting,” the human chided. “Don’t push yourself, your body needs to recover.”

An ugly snarl crossed Snufkin’s face, hidden from the professor’s sight. How could he stand there and say such things when it was his fault Snufkin was like this in the first place? For once, the hybrid yearned to take a leaf out of Little My’s book and get ready to chomp down on any part of the human he could reach.

He merely kept silent, doing his utmost to ignore the gaze burning holes in him.

Professor puttered about the room. His gaze only left the troll while writing in his notebook or fiddling with something on the desk. Snufkin hoped he wasn’t creating more of that sedative concoction.

“You should drink something. I don’t think you can afford to be losing fluids. Your body is in a fragile state.”

The man would be losing fluids when Snufkin managed to sink his teeth in.

“I cleaned your room and left a new canteen of water. If you insist on moving, then I insist that you move to the canteen and drink,” Professor said, his tone bordering on stern.

Ha! As if Snufkin would listen!

Wait…

Cleaned his room?

His eyes widened and his head snapped around to the corner with an almost audible crack. His backpack was still there, but had the human gone through it? There was only one way to check. The apple cores and other fruits were gone, along with the small towel he’d wiped his sticky paws on yesterday.

Snufkin’s jaw was starting to ache from being clenched so tightly. His strength gave out and he collapsed, his chin and chest smacking into the floor as his knees slid down.

“Just as I said. Rest and regain your strength.”

Every word out of the man’s mouth only fuelled the rage steadily simmering in his veins. Snufkin wasn’t violent. It simply wasn’t his nature. But if he got his teeth into the human’s flesh, he was going to bite down with all of the pressure he could exert, along with trying to shake his prey to maximise damage.

He would make Little My, with all of her years of chomping experience, proud. Not something he ever thought he would be attempting, but needs must. Just for this situation. Hopefully he would be able to muster up the energy when an opportunity presented itself.

For now, though, all he could do was lay here, letting his body regain what meagre energy it could. Usually, he would do this by finding a nice spot near the river, in a mossy patch, somewhere shady when it was hot, somewhere warm when it was cold, then sit his hat over his face and take a nice nap. Napping in his tent was never the same, although sleeping was fine.

Sleeping indoors was worse. It was never restful, no matter how tired he was. There was something about nature that was intrinsically soothing, like a flower that only bloomed in the sun, or a mushroom that only grew away from all sunlight. If Snufkin couldn’t rest among nature, then he wouldn’t rest. He’d already spent one sleepless night in this place, plus the incident today.

Snufkin had been running low on energy since the day began. If he was a barrel of water, then the keg was now fully tapped out, only a few drops left scattered across the bottom.

Time marched on and Snufkin stoutly ignored his stomach as it quietly began to complain about the state of affairs. He would rifle through his backpack later. He tipped his head far enough to keep the human in sight at all times. His fingers idly tapped one after the other rhythmically, right hand to left hand.

Professor walked over at some point and slid the hatch open. He swiftly dropped an apple in and shut the hatch. Snufkin tried to rouse himself but getting up further than his elbows was beyond his ability. He pointedly pretended the apple didn’t exist and laid back down, hungry and frustrated. The human’s expression was perturbed as Snufkin made no move toward the apple or the water canteen. The man sighed and left the room.

Snufkin put all of his effort into getting up. He was slow and wobbly, like a chick that had exhausted itself in its quest to break free from its egg. His jaw was clenched tight, sweat beading on his brow, muscles crying out in protest. He got to all fours, then his knees, then he stood up. The world tilted and he flailed, throwing his arms out and smacking his hands on the transparent wall. Snufkin leaned on it heavily, panting and trembling, his eyes half closed.

The blurry figure of his captor appeared in his view. Muffled sounds reached his ears, though his brain seemed too tired to decipher them, to turn them into actual words. The professor’s face took up most of his field of vision, his breath fogging up the wall slightly, and Snufkin could do little else but blink at him. The mouth was moving but no words were reaching his brain, and he was unable to read the human’s lips.

His vision began to lose colour as grey and black ate up more and more. Snufkin heard the messy squeals of his hands sliding down the wall, and his body registered the ache of an impact as he fell in a heap. Then unconsciousness stole him away again.

“Spring is here! Spring is here!” Moomin chanted happily as he made his way downstairs.

“I wish your voice wasn’t,” Little My grumbled after opening her door. She rubbed an eye with a fist, her movements slow from sleep.

Moomintroll shot her a sour look but continued on his way. The scent of fresh grass was strong, the smell of flowers soon to follow, and Snufkin as well.

Okay, so Winter was still clinging on. It wasn’t truly Spring quite yet. But Moomin was a creature of hope, one who looked on the brighter side of things. There was a chance that Snufkin would be back already, even if it was a little early, and Moomin would be ready to greet him at the bridge like always. Then they would go on amazing adventures, just the two of them, like best friends should. It was going to be great!

But first came breakfast. Hopefully his mother was awake, and in the kitchen, or he’d have to wait. Well, there was food, but eating nothing but jam wasn’t the most filling. Ever since that Winter when he’d woken up from hibernation and existed almost solely on jam, he wasn’t keen to open a jar unless he had something to spread it on.

No smells wafted from the kitchen and Moomin opened the door. Empty. He sighed and left, walking out of the house. The little bridge over the river was also empty, but he expected that. Even so, the lack of Snufkin and his harmonica music still made him sad. He sat down right in the middle, at the highest point, and let his legs and tail dangle over the edge.

The river was running faster than usual from all of the snow melt, turning his reflection somewhat streaky. His eyes beheld his own white form surrounded by blue, rather small and lonely looking. It would be joined soon enough by a green clad one.

There was a slight chill in the air, though Moomin’s pelt did an admirable job of keeping him warm. He idly kicked his feet and hummed all of the tunes he could remember Snufkin playing.

“Hey!” shouted Little My. “If you’d rather wait there, I’ll be happy to eat your breakfast for you!”

Moomin scrambled to get up. “Oh, no you don’t!”

The tiny mymble’s cackle easily reached his ears and echoed around the river. His tail flicked from side to side as he raced back to Moominhouse. Her threat was not an empty one, and Moomin was too hungry after sleeping a season away to miss the first meal of the day.

He took his seat at the table, opposite from Little My, and eagerly picked up his utensils, banging them softly on the table as Moominmamma served the children a plate of food each.

“Thank you, Mama!” he said gratefully, digging in.

Breakfast didn’t last long, and Moomin went back outside to resume his vigil at the bridge. The sound of running water and distant birdsong was peaceful and Moomin went back to humming, peeking up the path Snufkin always traversed every now and then.

He should go and see if Snorkmaiden and Sniff were awake yet. He was comfortable where he was though. Moomin would check on them later.

The clouds were sparse in the sky. What few painted the blue canvas were small and wispy. That promised good weather for the foreseeable future at least. Moomin would be disappointed if he missed Snufkin’s return due to rain. He wasn’t afraid of getting wet, though he certainly didn’t want to end up sick. Then he would be forced to stay in bed, and he’d definitely miss Snufkin’s return!

There was no way he could let that happen!

Seconds ticked by, minutes passed, then hours. Moomin only moved from the bridge for meals. When the stars became the main source of light, not counting the windows of his house, Moomin sighed heavily. It was a long shot that Snufkin would appear early anyway. He could check on his friends tomorrow and then return to waiting for his best friend.

The troll trudged back to his house. He wished his family a good night, including the mymble they had all but adopted, and crawled into bed. Sometimes Moomin wondered why he still had to sleep every night in Spring, especially since he spent every day and night of Winter in solid slumber. Well…usually.

Yet his body was tired, even as his mind carried on. His mattress cradled his body, and his pillow was a soft cloud his head rested upon. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim him.

Before he knew it his mind was surfacing, eyes blinking awake to be greeted by the morning sun. Was it fully Spring now? Would Snufkin arrive today? Snorkmaiden should be awake from her hibernation, but Sniff was always a late riser. Unless it involved food or money, Sniff could be rather lazy.

Moomin got out of bed. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it! After breakfast he would go and visit Snorkmaiden. Plan in mind, he padded down the multiple flights of stairs, almost licking his lips. He reached the main room and skidded to a halt.

“Good morning, Moomin!” said Snorkmaiden. She was seated on the couch, paws clasped before her, eyes bright and focused on him.

“Oh! Good morning, Snorkmaiden. Are you here for breakfast?” he replied when the shock wore off.

She gave a tiny giggle. “I came here to see you, but I won’t say no to breakfast. I made a basket for Snork but I didn’t have anything before I came over.”

“You’re always welcome here, dear. We’re happy to have you,” said Moominmamma. She was carrying a tray and placed it on the table. Her eyes were crinkled in happiness, and she absently wiped a paw on her red and white striped apron.

Little My bounded down in short order, followed by a far more sedate Moominpappa. Breakfast was dished out and devoured in short order, and everyone went about their own tasks for the day. Snorkmaiden wanted to go to the beach and search for anything that might have washed up over the cold season.

Moomin was torn. Searching for treasure sounded really fun, especially if they were the first to comb the place. But what if he missed Snufkin?

“It’s still too early for your precious Snufkin to arrive,” said Little My, hands on her hips.

He glared at her, not that it had any effect.

In the end, they went to the beach. The sea had a cool breeze, and swimming was out of the question until it warmed up more, but the three scoured the sand and rocks for any pretty shells or cool treasure. Shells were in abundance, and Snorkmaiden seemed happy enough to simply find them.

The only things washed up from the ocean were seaweed and driftwood.

It was around time for lunch when they decided to call it quits. Little My was proudly carrying an oddly shaped stick she had found.

“Let’s go wake Sniff,” she said out of the blue. She twirled her stick, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

A chill shot down Moomin’s spine. Oh no, that did not bode well at all.

“Wait!” he cried out.

A cackle was all he got as her small form became smaller as she ran.

“Oh no,” Snorkmaiden said sadly. “We need to stop her!”

Moomin’s legs were already in motion before she finished speaking, making her gasp and hurry to catch up. Both trolls frantically darted after the armed mymble, getting closer to the destination with every step. He hoped Sniff was already awake, though the odds of that were really tiny. Perhaps the racket they were making would do the trick as they got closer.

“Little My, stop!”

“Please put the stick down!”

None of their shouts had any impact. They continued on, starting to huff and puff as the sustained running began to take its toll. Neither dared to stop for fear of what she would do while unsupervised and unchecked. For such a small troll, Little My could generate huge amounts of chaos.

Moomin figured it was her unique skill – the one thing she brought into the world that no one else could. He didn’t know what his own was, but Little My’s was as obvious as the sky above. He really hoped his skill was not chasing down the chaotic mymble and desperately trying to do damage control.

Sniff’s house appeared on the horizon, the tip of the roof and the chimney poking up above the grassy ground. They were running out of time.

“Please stop!”

“Drop the stick!”

“Sniff, wake up!”

Little My reached the door and smirked. She raised the stick and banged on the door, the sharp rap of wood sudden and loud.

Moomin and Snorkmaiden stumbled to a stop, panting and eyeing her in disbelief.

“What?” she asked innocently.

Moomin groaned. What a start to the new Spring season!