All Things New - SillynekoRobin - Mumintroll | Moomins Series (2024)

Chapter 1: There's no place like home

Chapter Text

On the first day of spring, Snufkin was up before the sun.

He made some coffee from his rapidly dwindling stores. The streams were still icy cold with melting snow as he chased the retreating winter north, so a pot of water warmed over a small fire did instead for a quick wash up. (The days of Moominmamma plunking him into a surprise bath on the day of his return were long gone, but it didn’t do to take unnecessary chances.)

He broke camp in the predawn light, doused the fire, and was gone into the forest as quickly as he had arrived the evening before.

The birds were already chirping, the forest around him slowly coming to life with the creeps and other little creatures waking up to a fresh new start. Drops of snowmelt plinked from the branches of the firs and pines. He knew that down in the valley that was his destination, the melt would be even further underway. Easy as breathing, Snufkin pulled out his mouth organ and gently began to play, adding the notes of his new spring song to the soft music of the fledgling morning.

There were years when it seemed as if he were drawing his spring song out of a bottomless well, every note a struggle that he had to pull up from the depths. And then there were years when the song seemed to leap up from deep inside him like a lark seeking the sky at daybreak—effortless, unstoppable, almost obnoxious in its insistence. This year was one of those.

Snufkin had sensed somehow that this year’s spring song would turn out this way, when the beginnings of it had started flickering around his mind only halfway through winter like a hummingbird on the edge of his vision. The tune was almost completely made up of deep yearning and the pure gladness of finally being within reach of what was yearned for.

Truthfully, he had felt that strange yearning almost as soon as he had left Moominvalley behind at the end of the previous October, barely ahead of the encroaching frost; a whisper on the edge of his awareness that urged him to turn around, to go back, to seek out a warm, safe place with warm, safe, welcoming arms to wait out the cold. Deeply unsettled, he had firmly pushed the whisper to the farthest corner of his mind and pressed onward. It had been the start of a long, strange, very uncomfortable season.

- // - // - // - // -

It all started with his tail.

All his young life, Snufkin had looked like a simple mymble. His tiny tail, a mere slip of a thing short enough to be easily covered by his long smock, was the only tell of the second half of his parentage. He had never minded. Mumriks as a whole did not have a sterling reputation. Snufkin suspected that his travels up to that point would have been considerably more difficult if he had looked more like one.

But this winter his tail had begun to ache. Sharp, shooting pains woke him nearly every night, the same way his legs had hurt when he had entered his teenage years and started gaining height more quickly than his body could comfortably cope with. Sure enough, his tail was getting longer at a noticeable rate. By the middle of February it poked impudently out the bottom of his coat. Only now, near the end of March, had the pains nearly stopped. Snufkin was sure his tail was now almost as long as his father’s. It was a handsome enough tail, he privately thought; covered in sleek fur the same shade as the hair on his head, with a full tuft at the tip. (He now understood why Snorkmaiden would sometimes comb her own tail tuft with her fingers while she was thinking deeply about something. It was oddly soothing.)

The tail alone he didn’t mind. Wrapped tightly around his waist, it could still be easily hidden by his coat. The short, silky fur that had suddenly begun to grow over his paws, feet, chest, and up the bridge of his nose was another matter. At first he had been afraid he was developing some sort of terrible allergy, but the initial rash had soon given way to telltale fuzz. Everywhere it grew in had itched like mad for a solid week. He had never longed so much for Moominmamma, who would surely have made him a soothing ointment or a cool compress from Grandma Moomin’s book of potions and remedies.

I should have just hibernated with Moomintroll, he thought for the hundredth time, watching a small flock of birds overhead pick up his tune and carry it away with them into the valley. Perhaps he could at least have slept through the itching.

But winter was past, spring was arriving on swift wings, and the Snufkin who crossed the rocky pass into Moominvalley just as the sun crested the horizon was unquestionably a grown-up mumrik.

His pace quickened as the path began to slope downward toward the forest. He had never been so eager to reach the end of it. For the trail to widen out onto the bank of a familiar stream. For Moominhouse to appear on the other side across Moominpappa’s nicely cut lawn. For Moomintroll, his best friend in all the world, to jump up off the footbridge or run down from the house and do a terribly poor job of hiding his joy at Snufkin’s return.

Snufkin’s heart began to beat a little quicker.

- // - // - // - // -

Snufkin liked to take his time getting to Moominhouse. He enjoyed meandering down the mountainside, playing his mouth organ as he admired the buds that had just begun to unfurl on the trees, watching the birds beginning to build their nests and swapping greetings in passing with the little creeps who recognized him from his yearly sojourns.

This year the woodlands went by in a green-tinged blur as he nearly jogged down the path. As often as he reminded himself to slow down and enjoy the journey, some inexorable force seemed to tug him onward again even faster. Only when he reached the final bend in the trail that led out of the forest to the Moomin family’s bit of stream did he force himself to stop. He steadied his breathing, straightened his hat, and finally pulled his mouth organ back out of his pocket. It wouldn’t do to throw tradition by the wayside because he was feeling a bit squirrelly this spring.

Launching into his new spring song, Snufkin strolled onward. Perhaps Moomintroll would be waiting on the bridge this year. The thought of his friend’s loyal vigil curved the vagabond’s lips into a smile around warm metal. He rounded the bend and glanced up furtively, not quite daring to hope.

A fluffy white troll sat on a log at the end of the path where the trees turned to grass, distractedly drawing in the dirt with a long stick. Snufkin’s song seemed to reach Moomintroll at the same moment. His head jerked up in surprise, ears straining at the melody on the breeze, and looked up the trail.

Snufkin’s tune died a quick and sudden death, for all at once he found he didn’t have breath left to keep playing. All his carefully collected calm abruptly vanished like morning mist. He whipped off his hat, waving it over his head in urgent greeting. “Moomintroll!”

“Snufkin!” Moomintroll shouted. He leapt to his feet, tail lashing with joy as an expression of pure happiness crossed his face. It was shuttered almost at once as he caught himself being too emotional. His posture relaxed, tail calming as he raised a paw and waved back with faux casualness. “Erm. Snufkin. Nice to see you. Beautiful morning, eh?”

The great surge of warm affection came out of nowhere. Snufkin was moving before he even realized it. Jamming his hat back onto his head, he dashed down the path toward his best friend.

Moomintroll’s mouth dropped open. Small, white ears perked to high alert. He hesitated, arms half raised, but didn’t retreat as Snufkin barreled down the trail. When it became apparent that this was indeed happening, that Snufkin was not going to stop, Moomintroll moved into the inevitable collision and met him head on.

They came together like the returning tide met the shore, a flurry of green and white and limbs each trying to get around the other as Snufkin all but pounced into his friend’s arms. His fingers sank into the soft fur of the troll’s back, securing a firm hold as Moomintroll staggered backward under his oncoming weight. His face disappeared into the last of the winter fluff between Moomintroll’s collarbones, his senses immediately assaulted with softness, warmth, and the lingering smells of eiderdown quilts and sleepy Moomin.

“I don’t know what’s happening but I like it!” Moomintroll cried delightedly. In a moment Snufkin’s hat was on the ground and his feet were not as Moomintroll picked him up, heavy traveling pack and all, and effortlessly spun him around.

The winter and all its troubles sloughed away as if they had never been, replaced by warm sun, melting snow, green grass, bright flowers, sweet birdsong, and the strong arms happily holding him close. “I suppose I just missed you especially much this year,” Snufkin muttered, muffled by his friend’s fur.

“I missed you, too.” Moomintroll set him back on his feet but did not break the hug. His arms had worked their way between Snufkin’s back and his traveling pack for a closer, less awkward hold. “Does this mean we don’t have to pretend that we’re too cool to be happy to see each other anymore?” He quivered happily at the possibility.

“Perhaps we’re a bit too grown up now to pretend silly things like that,” Snufkin agreed with a soft laugh. His tail, which had been beside itself with emotion for the past few minutes, met Moomintroll’s quite by accident on the upswing and looped companionably around it.

Moomintroll glanced down to see what had touched him. His eyes bugged. “By my tail, Snufkin—your tail!”

Flushing, Snufkin pulled his disobedient tail away with a hard twitch. “Ah, yes. Seems it decided it wanted to be a bit longer.” He looked up, meeting Moomintroll’s curious eyes, and held up his newly-furred paws. “It’s been a strange winter, my friend.”

With his hat still lying at their feet near a patch of crocuses, Moomintroll had an unobstructed view of Snufkin’s face. Blue eyes widened at the sight of the velvety brown fur flocking his nose up to his hairline. Moomintroll glanced down at the upheld paws next, his tiny ears wiggling in fascination. “Oh, wow, Snuf! Look at you. You’re all grown up!”

Snufkin realized that Moomintroll’s arms had been around him the entire time only when the troll took a step back. He instantly missed the contact. Before he could properly process such a surprising feeling, two large, white-furred paws wrapped around the mumrik’s own smaller, brown ones. He watched dumbly as Moomintroll’s fingers twined gently with his, trailed softly over the backs of his paws, stroked the bare skin of his palms and fingertips that were slowly starting to toughen into the beginnings of pads.

“They’re like silk,” Moomintroll marveled, tail wagging happily as he stroked the fur at the inside of Snufkin’s wrist where it disappeared into his sleeve and up his forearms almost to the elbow.

Something inside Snufkin swooned at the delicate touch and sweet words. He gulped a deep, unsteady breath, struggling for a response to such a compliment. What came out was a sound he had never made before. It rumbled up from his chest and out into the clear morning air as he stood at the end of the path with his strange, familiar paws held warmly in his best friend’s.

Moomintroll gasped.

Snufkin snatched his paws back and clutched his own throat in surprise. The sound tapered off like a sputtering engine and died away. The two stared silently at each other for a long moment.

“You purred,” Moomintroll whispered finally, covering his grinning muzzle as if he could barely contain his delight at this newest development.

“Yes, I suppose I did.” Cheeks red, Snufkin gave his throat a final rub. He had often heard his father purr (and had many a night fallen asleep to it when he was very small, one ear pressed to the Joxter’s chest as he was held safe and warm) but he had never imagined that he would be able to do the same one day. “One last surprise left over from winter, it seems.”

“It’s wonderful!”

Snufkin collected his hat from the crocuses and tugged it on, pulling the brim low over his face to hide his embarrassment. “Many creatures purr, Moomintroll. It’s not that special.”

“It is when you do it,” the troll told him with complete sincerity.

It was very nearly enough to start him purring again. Luckily, before Snufkin was forced to choose between purring and finding some sort of intelligent verbal response, the distant sound of a door banging open jarred the serenity of the morning.

“Moomintroll!” a very insistent voice bellowed from the direction of the house. “Breakfast! Get your tail back home!”

Moomintroll’s ears flicked backward in annoyance. “Bet you anything Mamma asked her to come find me and let me know breakfast is almost ready.”

Snufkin hitched his pack higher with a chuckle. “Little My hibernated with all of you this year?” he guessed.

“Unfortunately.” Luckily, Moomintroll’s irritation disappeared as he turned back to the vagabond. “What do you say, Snufkin? Want to have breakfast with us? Of course Mamma’s making pancakes. Oh, but if you’d rather get started setting up camp, that’s fine too. I won’t tell them you’re back yet until you’re ready for company.”

It was impossible to keep from smiling at how well he was known, and how considerate of his needs Moomintroll had become over the years. Today, however, Snufkin decided that he needed no such consideration. “I’ve been dreaming of pancakes since New Year. Camp will be there afterwards.”

“Fantastic!” Moomintroll beamed. “Mamma and Pappa will be so happy to see you.”

- // - // - // - // -

Snufkin heaved a small sigh of contentment as they crossed the old wooden bridge they had sat on together so many times before. Moominhouse grew closer and more welcoming with every step. “How did you sleep this year, Moomintroll?” he asked. “Have pleasant dreams?”

“I always do.” Moomintroll smiled down at him guilelessly. “Do you remember that winter when we were little and you had to hibernate with us?”

Snufkin’s nose wrinkled reflexively at the memory. He had fallen out of a tree and broken his leg the week before the Joxter had planned for them to leave on their winter travels, and the small mumrik had been terribly unhappy about his pappa leaving him behind. To soften the blow, the Joxter had agreed to let his kit winter with the Moomin family; a tradition Little My had occasionally continued. Snufkin remembered vividly that Moominmamma had made them all eat a salad of pine needles before going to sleep (for slow-digesting, long-term energy through the winter, he supposed). That unpleasant meal aside, it had been the only successful hibernation sleep he’d ever had, curled up warm and close to Moomintroll while the bitter wind whistled through the eaves. His leg, which had been carefully doctored and splinted before bed, had healed beautifully by the time they woke in March. “Yes, I remember. Why?”

“You told me right before I fell asleep that we would have wonderful dreams, and when we woke up it would be spring. Now every time I lay down for the winter I tell myself, ‘I’ll have wonderful dreams, and when I wake up it will be spring, and then Snufkin will come home.’ And I always do.”

A flush raced up Snufkin’s neck like the sun touching the Lonely Mountains at daybreak, and he tugged his hat down quickly over his face. “Pff. When you’re not waking up mid-winter for no reason, you mean?”

“Hey, I haven’t done that in ages!”

“Three years is hardly an age.”

They were laughing and nudging each other teasingly when Snorkmaiden came down the path. The morning light glinted golden in her fur. She caught sight of them and waved happily, her free paw clutching a small bouquet of snowdrops, crocuses, and one early daffodil. “Moomintroll, Snufkin! Happy spring!”

They joined up where the path met the front lawn of Moominhouse. Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden swapped the warm nuzzles of sweethearts after a long winter’s sleep, their tails wagging with affection. Snufkin’s own tail did a little dance of secondhand happiness, to his mild consternation.

Snorkmaiden focused on him next, fixing the mumrik with a bright smile. Her eyes darted immediately to his nose, but she was too polite to point it out or stare for long. “Welcome home, Snufkin. You’re right on time this year.”

“He almost beat the sun to the valley this morning,” Moomintroll laughed, radiating happiness. What a wonderful thing it was to be standing there between his best beloved companions, breakfast waiting inside and three glorious seasons together stretching out before them, his smile seemed to say.

Snorkmaiden grinned cheekily. “It’s so nice when spring is punctual. I’m glad you had safe travels.” She took a step toward Snufkin, arms half open with an offer that could be dropped just as quickly if he didn’t prefer to be hugged.

Snufkin found that he did prefer. Over the years he had gotten better with hugs and was up to accepting them a little more than half the time, but today he preferred greatly. He had a suspicion that today he would even prefer to hug Sniff, if the chance arose. Shaking off the thought, he leaned in and wrapped his arms firmly around Snorkmaiden. She tensed a bit, as if she hadn’t been expecting such an enthusiastic response, but a moment later made a happy sound and squeezed back.

Snorkmaiden was as soft as Moomintroll, if a bit less bulky. She smelled like tea and a little like rosewater and like the crisp breeze that had carded through her silky fur on her morning walk through the meadows. Nose tucked into the fur of her shoulder, Snufkin was purring again before he even realized.

“Oh! I didn’t know you could do that,” she exclaimed, tail sticking out straight behind her in surprise.

Snufkin’s purr stuttered out with an embarrassed cough. “Mphm. It’s new.” He drew back, his own tail curling around his leg demurely, and held out his paws by way of explanation. “Been an odd season.”

“Oooh.” Snorkmaiden handed her flowers to Moomintroll and took both of Snufkin’s paws in her own, much as Moomintroll had done. She stroked the fur with her thumbs in fascination. “They’re so soft.”

“Aren’t they?” Moomintroll demanded delightedly, ears wiggling in complete agreement.

“You’ve had quite the growth spurt this winter, haven’t you? Look how long your tail’s gotten.” Snorkmaiden glanced down, admiring the newly full tuft of it. “Little My’s going to be jealous.”

The admiration of his closest friends made something flutter warmly in Snufkin’s chest, like a moth around the glow of a lantern on a warm summer’s night. Still, he was terribly glad when a loud growl broke into the conversation.

Moomintroll’s snout blushed hotly. He sheepishly moved Snorkmaiden’s flowers to cover his stomach. “Pardon me.”

“Someone else is still growing, I see,” she teased, taking back her bouquet with a fond pat to her boyfriend’s round middle.

“It’s been four months since dinner!”

Snorkmaiden giggled. “Come on and let’s have some breakfast, then. I’m sure Moominmamma made enough pancakes to feed the whole lot of us.”

- // - // - // - // -

They trooped across the verandah and into the kitchen just as the kettle began to sing.

Little My was standing on the table laying out place settings. She looked up and started in surprise when she caught sight of the vagabond. “Well, well,” she drawled, hands on her hips. “Look what the Moomintroll dragged in. A bit early this year, aren’t we?”

Snufkin tipped his hat to his half-sister. “Little My.”

Moominmamma turned away from the stove with a large platter of pancakes. “Snufkin, dear, what a nice surprise!” Getting a good look at his face, she blinked. “Oh, my.”

Snufkin smiled a bit bashfully, knowing she had noticed his newly grown facial fur. “Happy spring, Moominmamma.”

The pancake platter was quickly placed on the table. Moominmamma turned to him, waiting patiently, and was rewarded almost at once with a hug. She returned it snugly. Snufkin felt her paw gently stroking his back as she reassured herself that one of her children was still whole and healthy after another season away from her unobtrusive but unwavering motherly eye. This time he felt the purr coming on and was able to throttle it before it began. It was harder than he had anticipated.

Paws light against the sleeves of Snufkin’s coat, Moominmamma stepped back to admire him. “My goodness. Pappa, come here!”

There was a rustle from the drawing room. Moominpappa appeared a moment later, a pile of sheets and mosquito netting draped over his arm from where he’d been uncovering furniture and opening shutters. “What’s that, my dear?”

“Have a look here. Now, who does this charming young mumrik remind you of?”

Moominpappa did a double take. A paw flew up to hold his brow in surprise. “Oh no! Dash it all, they’ve both spent the winter growing like weeds.”

Moomintroll laughed. “Don’t worry, Snufkin, Pappa is just a little sore about something we discovered this morning.” Sidling up beside his father, the younger troll quickly swiped the top hat off his head. “See?” Standing side by side without the added height of the hat, it was suddenly obvious that Moomintroll was just a hair taller.

Moominpappa took his hat back with a huff. “No need to rub it in. This is clearly your mother’s fault; all that good cooking she’s been feeding you.”

“Yes, of course, dear.” Smiling serenely, Moominmamma gave Snufkin one last pat and drifted to the icebox for the juice.

“It’s not too late to stop feeding them.” Little My hopped down into her chair. “Just saying. More for me.”

“It would be terrible if I accidentally sat on you,” Moomintroll told her pointedly, “since I’m so much bigger now.”

Snorkmaiden sighed loudly and shook her head at the adopted siblings’ familiar back-and-forth as she took her seat at the table. “Well, we know one thing that hasn’t gotten any bigger—anyone’s maturity.”

Snufkin’s tail wagged in relaxed happiness. He needed his winters alone, with just his thoughts and his songs and the wide wilderness all around him. But he did miss this when he was gone. This spring more than ever before, the warm banter of the family around him filled a little hole in his heart he hadn’t known was so empty.

Dumping the sheets and netting into a corner to be sorted after breakfast, Moominpappa brushed the dust off his paws. On his way to the table, he gave Snufkin a fond clap on the shoulder. “I must say, my boy, Joxter won’t believe it when he gets a look at you. There’s never been any denying you’re his son in personality, but I think we all thought you’d keep on taking after your mother’s side in the looks department.”

Snufkin shrugged philosophically. “So did I. But I’ve never met another mymble-mumrik cross, so who’s to say what’s natural.” He slipped off his traveling pack and set it out of the way against the wall before sliding into his own seat across from Little My. “I don’t really mind it. Now that the fur has finished growing in, at least.”

Little My leaned over the table and stabbed the topmost pancake on the pile possessively. “Well, why not, eh? We’re already used to nearly everyone else shedding; what’s a little more fur around the place.”

“The more the merrier, as always.” Moominmamma rescued several pancakes onto a plate that she then set aside. “For the muskrat,” she explained at her husband’s quizzical look. “He’s already asleep again, out in the hammock. I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he’s finally awake for more than ten minutes.”

Breakfast began in earnest. Butter and jam were passed. Coffee, tea, and juice were poured. Moominpappa loudly declared war on the garden shed, which had dared to lose more shingles over the winter and needed a fresh coat of paint. Snorkmaiden talked animatedly about her plans to put in an herb garden, which Moomintroll immediately volunteered to help hoe the plot for.

Snufkin ate his pancakes and let their voices flow around him, returning Moomintroll’s smile every time he felt that sunny grin directed his way. What a perfect first morning of spring. Sipping his coffee, he was so relaxed and content that at first he didn’t notice when the conversation around him faltered and finally stopped altogether. Suddenly everyone at the table was looking directly at him.

“You,” Little My accused with a wicked grin, pointing her fork at him like a judge’s gavel, “are purring like a motor.”

“Don’t say anything, he’ll stop!” Moomintroll cried in exasperation.

The sound cut out instantly. Snufkin sank back, blushing brightly and doing his best to disappear into the space between his hat and scarf. His tail twined tightly around the leg of the chair and out of sight.

“Little My,” Snorkmaiden scolded with a frown.

The tiny goblin giggled shamelessly. “What? He’s my brother. I’m allowed to tease.”

“Now, now, dear, no need to be bashful,” Moominmamma laughed, reaching over to pat Snufkin’s arm gently. “It’s a lovely sound. It’s good to know that you’re so happy.” She smiled, glancing around the table. “I’m quite happy, too. It’s always so nice when our family is back together again.”

The purr threatened a resurgence. Snufkin glanced across the table at his sister and choked it down.

“Hear, hear.” Moominpappa industriously spooned more jam onto his next pancake. “You know, we ought to have a little get-together in a few weeks, whenever Joxter wanders back in. I’d imagine he’s not far behind you, Snufkin.”

“And Sniff will be awake by then,” Moomintroll said happily. “We could have a family party. Do you think Mrs. Fuzzy would bring some of that herbed cheese she makes?”

Moominmamma’s ears wiggled at the prospect of a party to plan and prepare for. “I’m sure she could be convinced. We’ll have to put up the tables and chairs outside, and the paper lanterns. Perhaps some flower garlands? And an awning, in case it rains.”

“And lots of lawn games for the Mymble kiddies,” Moominpappa decided. “To encourage them to stay on the lawn and out of our house.”

Snufkin should have realized then and there, as the idea of a large group of people (well, of that particular group of people, anyway) made his tail fluff pleasantly instead of making him want to run and hide, that something was dreadfully the matter.

- // - // - // - // -

Chapter 2: Springtime in Moominvalley

Chapter Text

The realization that he felt more than simple friendship for Moomintroll had hit Snufkin one night like an owl descending on a helpless creep in the darkness—swiftly, silently, and from out of nowhere, though it had clearly been watching from a distance and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It had happened two summers past, after one of their secret midnight outings. They had lain in a meadow side by side, finding pictures in the stars and making up stories to go with them. Afterwards Snufkin had watched from the bridge as Moomintroll climbed the rope ladder back up to his room. The moonlight shone off his beautiful white fur, and between one breath and the next it occurred to Snufkin, this is love.

Almost as quickly, Snufkin had accepted that his love would never be returned. Moomintroll’s childhood play with Snorkmaiden had evolved over the years into a real relationship. They had their occasional squabbles (as all pairs did) but it was plain to see that they were snout over tail for one another. One day soon Moomintroll would build a house that would really be good enough for them to move into together. Some first day of spring in the not-so-distant future he wouldn’t come running to greet Snufkin when the vagabond returned to the valley; he would be in that house busily wiping the muzzles and combing the tails of sweet little snork-moomin kiddies.

The thought hurt terribly, so Snufkin did his best not to think it. He would make the most of the time he had left and enjoy Moomintroll’s attention while it was happily given. Luckily, as the first breakfast of the season reached its end with many full and happy sighs, it seemed that Moomintroll was still more than happy to give Snufkin his attention.

“I’d better get home and start opening our house up,” Snorkmaiden decided. “I’m sure Snork ran for his workshop as soon as he got out of bed and didn’t touch a single window.” She put her dishes in the sink and wiped her paws. “Thank you for breakfast, Moominmamma. It was delicious.”

Moominmamma chuckled, collecting the nearly empty pancake platter. Of the huge number she had prepared, only four were left. “Let me wrap these up and you can take them home to the Snork. Tell him that he’s to eat breakfast at once; Moominmamma’s orders. No inventing on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him. You might be the only one he’d listen to.”

Little My jumped onto the table and began collecting the dirty silverware. She was too short to reach the sink, so the bundle was dumped into the empty juice pitcher. “Well, ladies and gents, as fun as it’s been, I’m off, too.”

“Off to check on the family?” Moominpappa guessed, moving the pitcher to the counter for her.

“Someone has to make sure they’re all alive and kicking.” She hopped nimbly from table to chair to floor. “Want me to tell Mother you’re back, Snufkin?”

He nodded thankfully. “If you would. Please tell her I’ll come by sometime in the next few days. After extensive mental preparation.”

Little My rolled her eyes. “Our little sibs are not that bad. You just have to let them know who’s boss, that’s all. It’s not hard.”

“Said literally only you, ever,” Moomintroll pointed out.

“Weaklings, the lot of you.”

The girls left the house and headed down the path together, Snorkmaiden carefully carrying the pancake parcel. Moomintroll and Snufkin rounded up the remaining plates and mugs and glasses and napkins for Moominmamma, who was filling the sink to wash up. The task well in paw, she shooed them out into the sunshine.

“Going to set up camp then, Snufkin? Need any help?” Moomintroll asked with thinly disguised hope as they descended the verandah steps.

Snufkin, who could (and had) put up his tent unassisted in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm while suffering from a raging head cold, smiled. Normally he would take the opportunity for some alone time after a lively meal with the others, but just then spending some time alone with his best friend sounded even more appealing. “Well, since you are offering, that would be very kind.”

Moomintroll’s tail waved happily all the way across the bridge.

The little spot on the opposite side of the stream where Snufkin preferred to set up camp was thankfully already free of snow. They cleared away the sticks and tree branches that had fallen there over the winter. Snufkin pitched his tent and tidied up last year’s campfire ring while Moomintroll wisely kept out from underfoot by looking for firewood. It was all done in less than half an hour, and after that the only thing left to be done was to sit on the bridge in the sunshine.

Snufkin unpacked his fishing gear and threw out a line. Moomintroll settled in beside him with a small pile of twigs and things he had picked up while gathering firewood. The stream ran merrily along beneath them, bolstered with fresh snowmelt from the mountains. From time to time the breeze carried the faint sound of a crash or exclamation from the direction of Moominhouse, where Moominpappa was ransacking the garden shed for shingles that didn’t seem to be where he thought he had left them. It was all very relaxing. Snufkin turned his face to the sun, feeling it warm both skin and fur. He felt terribly content. In a world where he could go wherever he liked whenever he pleased, it was a fine thing to be precisely where he wanted to be.

“What are you making, Moomintroll?” he asked.

“A bark boat.” Moomintroll held it up for Snufkin to see. It was rather small, and so far it was just the hull and deck, but he’d taken care to find pieces that fit together just right. “I’m going to surprise Mamma with it.” He rubbed the fur of his neck a bit sheepishly. “Last year I told her I was too old for them. She tried not to show it, but I think it made her sad.”

Snufkin smiled. “She’ll love it.”

“You don’t think it’s silly? To still make bark boats, I mean.”

“Not at all. There’s no point in being an adult if you can’t have fun once in a while.” Snufkin elbowed his friend’s fluffy side gently. “Besides, what would happen if you stopped making bark boats entirely and then someday you had children? Who would make bark boats for them? You would be terribly out of practice.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Moomintroll said, blushing a bit but looking a little more pleased. “No children of mine would go without a bark boat.” He sorted through the pile of twigs for a mast. “They would be dear, sweet little things. Completely unlike Little My’s minions. No offense to your family, Snufkin.”

“None taken,” the vagabond laughed, tail curling with amusem*nt on the warm wood behind them. He was much too content to be offended by anything, especially if it were true.

“We would teach them to swim, and take them on adventures, and show them all our secret signs, and tell them all of Pappa’s stories about our parents’ younger days.”

“Mm-hmm,” Snufkin agreed, eyes falling half lidded. The tiny new leaves on the willow branches rustled a soothing song in the fresh breeze. His affirmation trailed off into a soft purr.

“You’d be the best uncle there ever was,” Moomintroll continued, cradling the half-finished boat in his lap. “You could teach them to fish, and which mushrooms are good to eat, and how to just sit quietly in the forest and listen. When I tucked them in for the winter I’d tell them about the adventures you were having in the south while we slept. And on the first day of spring we’d all be waiting for you right here on the bridge.” The troll’s voice had gone soft and almost dreamy. Suddenly he sat up straighter with a start. “But you wouldn’t have to come back or do any of that; only if you wanted to, of course! I didn’t mean—”

Snufkin slumped sideways, leaning heavily against his friend. “It all sounds splendid, Moomee,” he purred. “You have me convinced. But please try not to have too awfully many miniature Moomins, or you might not all fit on the bridge.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Moomintroll sputtered to life. “What? No, no, there is absolutely no way I am having that many children! Two or three, at the very most.”

“And they shall always have bows in their tails.”

The troll leaned tentatively against Snufkin’s side in return. After a long moment during which no protest was forthcoming, he smiled and settled in fully. “Yes, of course.”

Dozing the morning away in the warm sun, propped against an even warmer Moomintroll, Snufkin found that he didn’t mind that the fish weren’t in a biting mood. He had received an unexpected treasure: thoughts of a sweeter future to carry with him.

- // - // - // - // -

In the early afternoon, Moominmamma came down to the bridge with a tray of juice and sandwiches on fresh baked bread. Moomintroll’s bark boat was almost finished but not quite ready for presenting. In a panic he passed it off to Snufkin, who stuck it under his hat.

“I’ve calmed your father down,” Moominmamma confided, settling down beside them. “The shingles were in the cellar. The carpenter ants were getting to them last summer and he forgot that he moved them downstairs.”

“He’s not determined to get on the shed right now, is he?” Moomintroll asked around a bite of salami and cheese. “I was thinking of going over to Snorkmaiden’s this afternoon and helping her get started on her garden, but if he needs me...”

“I think he could be convinced to hold off until tomorrow. The ladder really does need mending before you two go climbing about on it.”

When she had taken the tray and gone, Moomintroll stretched mightily and brushed the breadcrumbs off his snout. “I suppose I should get going before Pappa has a chance to recharge. He’s always so enthusiastic right after hibernation.”

“Good idea.” Snufkin pulled in his fishing line. “Let me tuck this away and we’ll be off.”

“You’re coming with me?” Moomintroll asked, ears perking with surprise. “Really?”

“Would you rather I not?”

“No, I’d love it if you came! I just thought you’d want some time to yourself after a whole morning of company.”

Snufkin considered the truth behind this. Normally he would be ready for a quiet walk in the woods, or perhaps a nap in the privacy of his tent after being up and on the trail so early. However, at just that moment nothing held quite the appeal of keeping Moomintroll within his line of sight. Snufkin was unused to second guessing his own inclinations, so he didn’t.

“I go where I like,” he replied with a haughty twitch of his tail. “And just now I should like to go to Snorkmaiden’s house.” He flashed his friend a teasing smile and, after looking up to Moominhouse to be sure that Moominmamma was out of sight, popped the bark boat out from under his hat like a party trick.

Moomintroll smothered a laugh as he took it back. “Well, if that’s how it is, who am I to argue.”

So as to avoid both Moominmamma and the inherent dangers of climbing a rope ladder with only one paw free, they left the bark boat inside Snufkin’s tent with his fishing rod. Moomintroll would collect it before dinner. Then they set off along the path Snorkmaiden and Little My had disappeared down that morning.

The day had only grown warmer and more beautiful, and the walk was filled with exclamations as one or the other spotted a bird that hadn’t been seen since the last bygone days of summer, or a new species of flower popping up from the wet ground. It was still odd not to see their favorite hemulen darting hither and yon over the fields with his magnifying glass and specimen box, but Snufkin supposed he was happily ensconced in his greenhouses. (Mrs. Fillyjonk had introduced the hemulen to the wonders of the mail order catalog the previous year, and one greenhouse behind his cottage had suddenly blossomed into three over the course of the summer as he quickly amassed a vast collection of exotic fauna from far beyond the borders of Moominvalley.)

When they arrived at the Snork residence, Snorkmaiden was outside industriously marking out the border of a small garden plot between the house and the big shade tree on one side of the lawn. The blue ribbon tied around the brim of her sun hat fluttered in the breeze.

“Moomintroll, you came!” she called happily, lowering her hoe to wave.

“I couldn’t let you blister your delicate paws, my darling,” he called gallantly, pausing to strike a noble pose. “Help has arrived! And I brought reinforcements.”

Snufkin smiled mischievously. “I couldn’t let him blister his delicate paws saving your delicate paws.”

“Hey!” A short but playfully intense elbowing match ensued as Moomintroll defended the honor of his own hardened, masculine paws.

Snorkmaiden laughed and passed the hoe to her boyfriend. “Well, I’m glad you decided to tag along, Snufkin. It seems like it’s been an age since you’ve been to visit. I’m sorry that I’m putting you to work as soon as you get here, though.”

“Not at all,” he assured. “Six paws are better than four. We’ll be done in no time. And maybe then there will be juice…?”

“Oh, absolutely. Though I simply can’t wait for the first ship of the season to come in with fruit. As soon as the snow melts, I’m ready for lemonade.” She sighed wistfully, straightening her hat. “Ah, well. Best get to it. Who wants the first turn? I’m afraid I only have the one hoe.”

They set to work. Moomintroll took the first turn hoeing, Snorkmaiden following behind with a pitchfork to further loosen the soil, still wet with melted snow. When they reached the end of the first row Snufkin took over, completing the second row while Moomintroll rested. They swapped back and forth, all three pausing for the occasional water break, chatting and laughing as the hours disappeared.

“What are you going to use all the herbs for, Snorkmaiden?” Snufkin asked as they neared the end of the plot.

“Oh, for all kinds of things. Cooking of course, but also for soaps, and pelt treatments, and remedies from Grandma Moomin’s book. Moominmamma’s been letting me copy things out of it so I have the recipes here at home if I need them. There are so many handy potions one can make. Right, Moomintroll?” She gave her boyfriend a teasing wink.

Moomintroll flushed deeply and hoed faster, avoiding eye contact with a cough and mumble.

Snufkin laughed. “No more golden tails for anyone present, I trust?”

His friend’s tail waved, disgruntled. “Been there, done that, experienced the mortification. No thank you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wet cotton ball—it was entertaining!”

Moomintroll let out a yell and raised the hoe defensively as Little My popped out from behind Snorkmaiden’s basket of gardening tools. “When did you get here?! Don’t startle me like that!”

Little My grinned shamelessly. “One day I’ll startle you so hard you’ll lose your shadow.” She looked the slightly grubby trio up and down. “So the gang’s all here, eh? Hope I didn’t miss Moomintroll stepping on a rake.”

“Didn’t you have other people to torment?” the troll in question yelled exasperatedly, viciously chopping a stubborn dirt clod clean in half. “Like your mother? Or your sister? Or your sixty little minions?”

“There are only fifteen this spring. I counted.” She sat down on the top step of the long stairs that led up the hill to the Snorks’ front door and polished an apple on her smock. “Mother tried to rope me into helping with bath time. That was my cue to be elsewhere.”

Snufkin chuckled. “Well, if you’ve come to help us instead I’m afraid we’ve nearly finished.”

“Oh, no. What a pity. Don’t know how I’ll ever overcome such disappointment.” She rolled her eyes and took a huge bite of apple.

Snorkmaiden took off her sun hat and put it on Moomintroll’s head. “Since we are almost done, I’m going to wash my paws and go get that juice I promised. Back in a tick.”

Moomintroll adjusted the hat to a jaunty angle as his girlfriend stepped pointedly around Little My and disappeared into the house. “What do you think, Snufkin? Is it me?”

“Oh, yes,” Snufkin agreed readily. “The ribbon matches your eyes.” His tail did a pleased dance at the realization. “Very fashionable.”

“Blech!” Little My snorted from the step. Her apple core came soaring over and landed in their tilled dirt. “Here’s some compost. Just chop it on in.”

Moomintroll rolled his eyes. The effect was ruined by a stray ribbon tickling his nose. “Snorkmaiden doesn’t want an apple tree in the middle of her herb garden, Little My.”

“Well, take the seeds out, then.”

“It’s your apple, you take the seeds out!”

Amid familiar teasing and bickering, the last few rows of the new garden were turned and softened. Snorkmaiden returned with cleaner fur, four glasses of sweetened lingonberry juice, and a picnic blanket that she spread on the damp grass under the budding tree. The boys brushed themselves off and settled in on the blanket with her to enjoy the refreshments. Snufkin carefully kept his muddy boots off the edge.

Little My swigged her drink in a few quick gulps and went poking among the gardening tools. “Hey, Snorkmaiden, can I borrow this?” she yelled, hefting the garden rake over her head like an exceptionally long barbell.

“What?’ Snorkmaiden looked over distractedly. “Well, alright. Just be sure to bring it back. And don’t break anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The small mymble darted off around the side of the house as fast as she was able while carrying the unwieldy implement.

Moomintroll’s ears wiggled with concern. “Was that a good idea? Booble knows what she’s doing with that.”

Snufkin slouched down against the tree trunk beside the worried troll. “Sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions, my friend.”

Snorkmaiden patted Moomintroll’s shoulder comfortingly before snuggling against it. “If we hear any sounds of obvious destruction, we’ll check.”

“A sound idea.” Snufkin took off his hat and tilted his head back to place it over his face. Before the old fabric covered his vision, he caught sight of Snorkmaiden’s cheek pillowed on Moomintroll’s shoulder, and the adoring smile Moomintroll was bestowing on her. The sight squeezed his heart even as it made him smile, as well; seeing two creatures so very in love could never be a bad thing, even if it meant that his own affections weren’t returned.

Then Moomintroll glanced down. Before Snufkin could look away, their eyes met. The troll’s smile spread even wider, blue eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “What an absolutely perfect day. I don’t think it could get any better.”

“I could’ve made some cookies,” Snorkmaiden sighed dreamily. “The shortbread ones with the dried berries. That would make it ever so slightly better.”

“Alright, maybe a little. But not by much.” Still smiling, Moomintroll suddenly reached out with the arm closest to the reclining mumrik. “Hold still, Snuf. You’ve got a bit of dirt...”

Snufkin froze as a gentle paw thumbed at his forehead where, he remembered belatedly, he had wiped his brow while working in the garden plot. If the touch seemed to linger a bit too long on the fine new fur trailing up from his nose, well, it must have been only his imagination.

“Ah. Thank you.” He waited until that soft, white paw withdrew before quickly popping his hat down over his face. It couldn’t conceal the sound of his purrs.

“I kind of like how you have no choice but to let everyone know when you’re happy now,” the troll giggled.

Snufkin lifted his hat for a moment to pout up at his friend. “Evil creature, taking joy in the loss of my dignity.”

“Yes, Moomintroll, shame on you.” Snorkmaiden reached around and squeezed a strategic bit of her boyfriend’s round tummy. “Punishment!”

He was still squeaking and squirming with laughter when Little My trotted back into view. She carried the garden rake out in front of her by the end of the handle. From its metal teeth hung a bit of broken tree branch. From the branch swung a fat, angry hornets’ nest. She cackled gleefully. “Who wants to come help me wake Sniff up?”

The three under the tree swapped equally horrified glances. Moomintroll’s tail went stiff in panic. Snorkmaiden blanched a very pale grey.

Snufkin launched himself off the picnic blanket like a giant fish was bent on pulling his rod into the river. “Little My, no!”

She broke into a run in the direction of a very helpless, very snoozy Sniff’s house. “Little My, yes!”

As they chased after the tiny terror, Snufkin spared a moment to shake his metaphorical head at the outsiders who knew no better than to call Moominvalley a dull, boring place.

- // - // - // - // -

After saving an oblivious Sniff from a very rude awakening, the group of friends parted ways. Snorkmaiden returned home to sow her new garden with seeds. Moomintroll, Snufkin, and Little My headed back to Moominhouse as the late afternoon sun sank lower in the sky.

The fish were biting much better when Snufkin settled on the bridge to scare up some dinner. He had collected a lovely string of trout when Moomintroll made his way hesitantly down from Moominhouse, white fur glowing in the light of the sunset.

“Yip yip,” Snufkin encouraged, tail wagging in welcome.

Looking relieved that he wasn’t being an imposition, Moomintroll sat down next to him. “Mamma asked me to invite you to dinner. I told her you were probably all peopled out, but she insisted.”

“Hmm.” Snufkin pretended to think it over. “What is she making?”

“Some kind of stew, I think. Probably potato and mushroom. You know, whatever’s in the cellar.”

Snufkin held up the string of fish. “Would she be interested in these?”

The troll’s ears perked at the chance to enjoy something fresh. “I’m sure she would! I know I would. Thank you, Snuf. That’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. Let me just clean these, and…”

Moomintroll watched the process nervously, sometimes glancing away with a squeamish wince as the mumrik dispatched the fish with quick, precise efficiency.

Snufkin chuckled as he flipped his knife around and began to scrape the gutted fish, sending up a flurry of shimmering scales. His sensitive friend had always had to cover his eyes when they were children. “Almost done, Moomee. You’ve gotten much braver about this.”

“Yes, well. At least with you I don’t have to worry that you’re going to take a bite out of it before it’s cooked.”

That had Snufkin laughing outright. Moomintroll (and Moominpappa) had all but fainted the first time the Joxter had demonstrated what he swore was the tastiest way to eat a fresh brook trout. “Yes, well, I’ve never felt the urge to have to drink Moominmamma’s de-worming medicine. Papa always says it tastes horrid.”

They took the fish up to Moominhouse, where Moominmamma was as pleased that Snufkin was coming to dinner as she was at the fish he had brought. She neatly filleted them at the kitchen sink, then worked what might have been magic with butter and dried dill. Soon the house smelled deliciously of baking fish and bubbling potato soup.

Little My blinked curiously as the dinner smells brought her to the kitchen and she caught sight of her brother helping Moomintroll pull dishes out of the cupboards. “You’re here again? You really must have missed us this winter.”

“Some of you, certainly,” Snufkin allowed airily.

Her eyes narrowed with a mischievous glimmer. “Want to learn what it feels like when that nice long tail gets bitten?”

He darted behind Moominmamma with a snicker.

Little My pouted. “Cheater.”

The muskrat was dozing under the table. Moominmamma spooned up a ladle of soup and a slice of bread and slid the bowl under to him. Everyone else took their seats and dug into the hearty fare. Moominpappa in particular ate enough for two, having worked up an appetite assembling shingles and tools and ladders. Moomintroll resigned himself to spending a good part of the following day on the roof of the garden shed.

After dinner had been eaten and the kitchen tidied, the family dispersed. Moominpappa excused himself upstairs to work on his perpetually in-progress memoirs. Moominmamma settled in to relax with her knitting. Little My disappeared to… wherever she went when she disappeared. The muskrat snored under the table.

Moomintroll tapped Snufkin secretively on the shoulder. “I’m going up to my room to work on the B-O-A-T,” he whispered. “Want to smuggle up a mug of hot cocoa?”

Snufkin thought of his quiet, solitary tent on the other side of the stream. The fire he hadn’t made yet. The lingering chill of the early spring night. Everything that would still be there when his best friend was ready to say goodnight. “Absolutely.”

There were very few real rules in Moominhouse and there had certainly never been one against snacking between meals, but it had long been a game to see what they could sneak upstairs before bedtime. (The long-reigning champion was Snorkmaiden, who had once concealed a full bandolier of sausages under her nightgown during a sleepover.) That evening Snufkin and Moomintroll made it to Moomintroll’s room undetected with two mugs of cocoa, a tin of biscuits, and a jar of dried raspberries. Snufkin added the latter to his cocoa.

Moomintroll had left the bark boat on his desk. “It’s nearly done,” he said, digging through the little pile of bark and twigs. “I think I can finish it and have it ready to give Mamma in the morning.”

“I’m sure you can.” Snufkin sank down on the edge of his friend’s bed, sipping contentedly at his cocoa. The tuft of his tail twitched lazily atop the quilt. After a moment of consideration, he put his mug aside on the nightstand and bent to unlace his boots. Once they were off, he settled in with his back to the headboard and went back to his cocoa, much comfier.

Moomintroll had always had a habit of falling out of bed during vivid dreams. That had only increased as he grew older and the size ratio of bed to Moomin shrank. The summer before had finally seen the replacement of his childhood single bed for a larger one able to accommodate the tossing and turning of a fully grown Moomintroll. It also had a much nicer mattress, Snufkin realized, absently kneading at the quilt with his free paw. They hadn’t had as many sleepovers the past few years as they had when they were children (and even then Snufkin usually preferred to kip on the floor to be closer to the usual feeling of sleeping in his tent) but he did remember the old mattress being considerably lumpier.

“It is a nice bed, isn’t it?” Moomintroll asked conversationally, whittling away a bit of bark he didn’t like the look of. “I missed the old one at first, but Pappa was right; I do sleep much better in that one.”

“Resting well is very important,” Snufkin agreed. His eyes had gone half shut without his permission. Moomintroll’s room was quite warm and cozy.

“You know, it’s too bad I didn’t have that bed when we were children. You and I and Snorkmaiden and Sniff and Little My all would have fit in it when we were little.”

“And somehow Sniff would have still managed to kick me in the head,” Snufkin predicted dryly.

Moomintroll laughed. “I wonder if he still kicks like he’s running backwards in his sleep?”

“I’ll leave that to you to figure out, if it’s all the same.”

As they talked and teased, getting caught up on all that had happened to Moomintroll after Snufkin had left last autumn and all that Snufkin had seen on his travels through the winter while the Moomins slept, Snufkin’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. His empty mug migrated back to the nightstand. During a span of quiet while Moomintroll concentrated deeply on the sails of the little boat, the vagabond found himself yawning hugely.

I should head back to camp and get some sleep, he thought muzzily. It has been a long day. Long, but very good.

He looked over at Moomintroll to excuse himself for the night. The lantern light touched parts of his friend’s fur a warm, buttery yellow and cast the rest in welcoming shadow. The words wouldn’t come. Perhaps he could stay just a bit longer. Snufkin sank down the headboard until he reclined comfortably on the pillows. They were warm, soft, and smelled lovely (like Moomintroll).

I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute or two…

The mumrik’s own soft purrs put him to sleep.

- // - // - // - // -

“There! It’s all finished. What do you think, Snufkin?” Moomintroll turned in his desk chair and held the completed bark boat up proudly. “Snuf? Oh.”

Arms wrapped firmly around a pillow, tail curled around his knees, his best friend was quite clearly asleep.

Moomintroll left the boat on his desk and crept closer, remembering at the last moment to avoid the floorboard that always creaked. He shook his head fondly. “Silly creature. If you were so tired you should have just said.”

Paw outstretched to gently shake him awake, Moomintroll paused. Would it really be so bad to let him sleep? Snufkin preferred to sleep outdoors, but surely he wouldn’t mind spending just one night in bed. Especially considering how happy Snufkin suddenly seemed to be close to him. The memories of an entire wonderful day spent with Snufkin washed over him, and Moomintroll knew he must be smiling like a fool. The unexpected yet so very welcome embrace at the trailhead that morning; leaning into one another’s warmth for hours on the bridge in the spring sunshine; working side by side in Snorkmaiden’s garden; walking so close that their paws and shoulders brushed. He couldn’t remember that Snufkin had ever been so openly affectionate.

Maybe it’s because he’s almost all grown up? Moomintroll wondered, rerouting his paw to carefully lift the hat that only half covered his sleeping friend’s head. The Mymble and Mymble Jr. are very affectionate. Perhaps all mymbles and part-mymbles are that way when they’re adults? Wish Little My would hurry up and get to it, then.

As the hat lifting clear gently ruffled his hair, Snufkin stirred. One cocoa-brown eye slit open questioningly. “Moomee…?”

Something in his chest went warm and liquid, like a freshly broken egg yolk. “Yes, it’s me,” he whispered, hanging the old green hat on the nearest headboard post. “Can we take your scarf off? You probably shouldn’t sleep with it on.”

Snufkin’s eyes slipped closed. The purr ratcheted up as his head tipped back in obvious invitation.

“Oh. You’re still asleep, aren’t you?” Moomintroll chuckled helplessly. When no response came, he very gently loosened the shabby yellow scarf. A few strategic tugs and it joined the hat on the bedpost. “There. Can’t have you strangling yourself in the night.”

The temptation to stroke the fine fur that now covered part of his friend’s forehead was strong. Somehow the troll managed to resist. Snufkin was not a heavy sleeper—he couldn’t afford to be, with how often he slept in the wilderness. Risking another pet would surely wake him, and then he might leave for the cold outdoors. Better to not.

Moomintroll settled on pulling a spare quilt from the wardrobe. He shook it out and tucked it gently over his sleeping friend, whose only reaction was a very quiet sigh as he snuggled, still asleep, further into the pillow. Relieved, Moomintroll turned down the lantern. High in the sky outside the moon was on the wane, but it provided enough pale light through the unshuttered window to make his way to the opposite side of the bed and slide carefully into it.

Under the quilt, Snufkin was warm against his side. He no longer had to worry about whether the vagabond was staying warm, or finding enough food, or keeping himself safe out in the big wide world. They would wake the next morning to another gorgeous spring day in the peaceful harbor of Moominvalley. The sheer relief of the thought coaxed a contented sigh as he burrowed his snout under the covers.

“Goodnight, Snufkin,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Truly, the first day of spring could not have found any better ending.

Chapter 3: Make like a tree and...

Chapter Text

Snufkin awoke bit by bit in the pale, grey light before dawn with his face pressed into something soft and silky. The purr that had helped coax him toward wakefulness grew even louder as he rubbed his cheek against it.

He stretched languidly. His whole body was enveloped in luxurious warmth and softness. One paw curled against his chest and seemed to be stuck there, but he kneaded appreciatively with the other, more of that lovely soft silkiness sifting through his fingers. Something pleasingly firm and bulky pressed snugly between his legs, and he rolled his hips into the delightful pressure. Arousal tingled up his spine and down to the tip of his tail as he squirmed toward more of that pleasure, building a gentle rhythm.

A big paw grasped his hip and squeezed. “Mm-hmm…”

At the sleepy sound that had not come from his own mouth, Snufkin snapped instantly into awareness. With a jolt of terror, he realized where he was and what was happening. The mumrik froze like a hunted rabbit in the underbrush. Eyes wide in the dim light, heart racing, he prayed that Moomintroll was not conscious enough to know what was going on. Because it was of course Moomintroll’s bed and blankets that were so warm and soft under and around him; the white fur of Moomintroll’s gently rising and falling chest the silkiness under his face and gripping paw; Moomintroll’s hip he had been rutting against so lewdly. His friend had an arm wrapped around him, paw resting on Snufkin’s waist. It went still at his own lack of movement, affording a glimmer of hope that he may yet be able to extract himself from this worst of predicaments.

Hardly daring to breathe, Snufkin carefully shifted the leg he had thrown over one of Moomintroll’s. He eased himself back across the mattress tiny increments at a time until the paw on his side succumbed to gravity. It slid down and away, and Snufkin slithered silently out from under the quilt. His socks touched the cold wooden floor. Then he was free, standing like an interloping shadow in the Moomin’s room.

Moomintroll groaned suddenly and rolled over, facing the opposite wall.

Snufkin’s tail tuft poofed to at least thrice its normal size. He ducked instinctively, crouching by the bed until it became clear that his friend hadn’t awoken. Breath still shaky, he stood slowly and scanned the room. His hat and scarf were thankfully near at paw. He pulled them off the bedpost and donned them quickly, heart performing traitorous tricks as he imagined Moomintroll tenderly removing and placing them there the night before.

Ridiculous creature, he scolded himself as he stuffed his feet into his boots. Out you go before such thoughts go to your head and you land in even more mischief.

Despite his own (very sensible) advice, Snufkin hesitated at the window. Half over the sill, one foot on the top rung of the rope ladder, he paused. Moomintroll’s room had never seemed so welcoming with the cold air of pre-morning at his back. His friend lay sleeping peacefully, tiny white ears poking out of the hill he made under the quilt, exuding an aura of warmth and comfort. The vagabond stared, resolve wavering.

Perhaps… perhaps he had overreacted. What had happened was purely an accident, after all, and completely natural for creatures their age, he reasoned. It had been embarrassing, but surely Moomintroll wouldn’t have been too terribly offended if he were to have woken up with Snufkin pressed against him. His tail flicked the damp air in time with his internal conflict. Maybe he could go back inside, lie back down, doze against Moomintroll’s warm fur until his friend woke…

Arousal, once murdered by adrenaline, staged a comeback at the thought.

The window shut behind Snufkin with a gentle click as he made his escape, terribly grateful for the faithful old rope ladder. He descended it nimbly and crept quietly across the lawn. Only his footprints in the dewy grass gave notice of his passing.

Something is wrong with me, he thought, unease coiling with the lingering excitement in his belly. I almost got back into that bed. What on earth was I thinking? Resolve quickened his pace as he crossed the footbridge. That’s just it—I wasn’t thinking at all. I haven’t been thinking clearly since I set foot in this valley. And it only gets worse when I’m near Moomintroll.

Perhaps this was what his father’s famous Forebodings felt like.

Back at camp, he quickly scrounged a fire into existence. The last of his coffee was set to brew. (Like clockwork, on his second or third day on the stream bank Moominmamma would say something very like ‘Oh, Snufkin, won’t you help us use up last year’s beans before they go stale?’ and suddenly he would have enough coffee to last through spring and well into summer.) He sat on a log by the fire while he waited and tried in vain to focus on something productive. Now that the danger was past, his mind kept skittering furtively back to how good, how right it had felt to wake tangled up with Moomintroll, all warmth and closeness and gentle pleasure.

Snufkin’s knees rubbed together uncomfortably as he squirmed, guilty as a mymble kiddie nicking cookies before dinner. He had no business thinking things like that. Moomintroll was his best friend—and he was very much spoken for. Not that such a thing was able to keep his mind from wandering all of the time, but he didn’t like to encourage it. He cast a severe frown at his lap. Under his coat, his lower body staged an impudent rebellion against common sense. Life would be much easier if such parts would listen to reason.

The vagabond glanced over at his tent. He knew that he could slink inside it and nip the problem in the bud with little effort. He also knew that he would be awkward around Moomintroll and probably everyone else for the rest of the day if he did. It was hard enough on his conscience to think of the Moomin during such indelicate acts when there were untold acres of forest between them. The idea of doing so when Moomintroll lay innocently sleeping just a whistle away made Snufkin blush reflexively.

Resolutely, he stood. A cold wash it is, then.

Snufkin looked appraisingly across the stream. Moominhouse lay quiet and still, rising from the valley mist. It seemed… well, unseemly to bathe when others were around to see it, so while camping in the valley he usually waited for cover of darkness to have a wash up before bed. But now, with sunup barely threatening, it seemed he had time.

Mind made up, Snufkin slipped off the boots he hadn’t stopped to lace up during his daring escape from Moomintroll’s room and tucked his socks inside them. His coat, smock, and undershirt were draped over the log with his hat and scarf, a safe distance from the fire. All his new fur stood on end in the chill air as he padded quickly down to the edge of the stream.

The grassiest, least muddy spot he could quickly find was quite near the bridge; an added bonus, as it hid him further from view of the house. Feeling uncomfortably exposed in only his too-short trousers (he really should give in this year and allow Moominmamma to make him a new pair now that he seemed to have stopped growing taller), Snufkin knelt by the water and set about washing the foolishness from himself. It was an unsavory process.

The water, snowmelt straight from the mountains, stung his paws and cheeks as he splashed his face. Drops trailed down his neck and into the fur on his chest while his tail did an interpretive dance of discomfort. He shook the water from his paws and forearms with a wince. At the very least, arousal was no longer any sort of problem.

“Snufkin! Aren’t you freezing?”

The mumrik jumped in surprise and nearly slipped on the wet grass. Catching his balance, he looked up into the round, concerned face of the Moomin peering over the bridge railing.

Moomintroll’s little ears laid flat in sympathy. “You know you can always use our bathtub. You’re going to get a terrible cold like that.”

“O-oh, no worries, Moomintroll.” Forcing a wobbly smile, Snufkin crossed his arms over his bare chest. Even he couldn’t say if it was more for warmth or to cover himself from those wide blue eyes. “Nothing I’m not used to.” Only a small stretching of the truth. “You’re awake awfully early this morning.”

“So are you.” The troll’s footsteps seemed inordinately loud amid the birdsong of first light as he trotted across the bridge. “I woke up and you were gone, then I couldn’t get back to sleep.” The tuft of his tail twitched almost guiltily. “Weren’t you comfortable last night? Was anything, ah, wrong?”

Snufkin tried desperately to play it cool. He shrugged smoothly, hoping against hope that his friend had no idea why he had really snuck away so abruptly. “Well, you know me. I was quite comfortable—” far too comfortable, more like, “but outdoors is where I prefer to be.”

“As one with nature, yes,” Moomintroll chuckled. The reassurance seemed to ease his apparent worry. He followed along as Snufkin went back to the fire to dress. “Oh! Well, by my tail. Your feet have fur now, too.”

Snufkin glanced away self-consciously under the troll’s scrutiny. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, fighting the urge to shift from one furred foot to the other as he was looked at. It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, though he suspected that being studied so closely by anyone else would have been intolerable. “Indeed. Not quite as thick as Papa’s, but it will do.”

“Hopefully you’ll stay warmer when it’s cold.” Moomintroll raised a paw. Before Snufkin could grasp what was happening, that paw was stroking the fur down the center of his chest. Moomintroll’s ears wiggled, clearly pleased. “Heh, it’s just as soft as your hair. It’s certainly different seeing you with fur, Snufkin, but it really suits you.”

A shiver crawled down the mumrik’s spine that had nothing to do with the morning chill. He sucked in one startled breath, almost a gasp, before a choked purr bubbled up and he arched his chest unthinkingly into the contact. Of course he had run his fingers through his own fluff curiously when it had first grown in, but the sensation had been rather tickly and he had moved on with life. Moomintroll’s thick fingers combing through it, though, sent fireworks crackling through his veins. He took a step forward, leaning harder into his friend’s palm.

The troll laughed good-naturedly. “Does that feel nice? It must; I can feel your purrs.”

‘Nice’ was the understatement of the year. Snufkin tried to make words happen. His throat refused. If that stroking paw felt so good through fur, how would it feel on the bare skin of his collarbones and upper arms? Running down his back? Gripping his hips without layers of interfering clothing? Surely if he asked very nicely, Moomintroll would—

Something must have shown on his face, for Moomintroll’s smile faded. His paw stilled. “Are you alright?”

The answer was emphatically ‘no.’ Everything in the vagabond urged him to throw his arms around his fluffy friend, hold tight, mingle their fur and knead at his softness. With a monumental effort of will, Snufkin stepped away.

His friend’s ears flattened apologetically. “I’m sorry, Snufkin. I didn’t mean to tease you, I promise. I know you’re not used to having fur yet.”

A few deep breaths helped bring him back to reality. “It’s perfectly alright, Moomintroll,” he managed. The purring finally died away as he grabbed his shirt off the log and quickly shrugged into it. “No harm done.”

Moomintroll did not look convinced, but had the grace to let the matter lie. “So, erm. Will you be coming to breakfast? Everyone else should be waking up soon. I thought I heard Mamma stirring when I passed their room.”

“Not today, I think.” With every layer of clothing added, every button deftly fastened, Snufkin felt more in control of himself. “I’m going to visit my mother this morning. I did promise that I would.”

“Yes, you did,” the troll agreed, only looking a little down at the prospect of a Snufkin-less breakfast table. “Maybe I’ll see you later, then? Pappa needs my help with the shed today, but we should be done by this evening. Maybe we could take a walk or something?”

“That sounds very nice, Moomee.” Snufkin straightened his hat. Its familiar weight helped ground him. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Snufkin smiled and returned his friend’s farewell wave. He waited until Moomintroll was across the bridge, fur shining like a beacon in the rising sun, then poured his neglected coffee. He drank it as quickly as he could while kicking dirt onto the campfire. Fire out, tent zipped, mug tidily rinsed and stowed, he struck out into the forest at a brisk pace in the direction of the Mymble’s house.

If I have any luck at all, Papa will be there, too, he thought, determination in his steps.

Something very strange was happening, far too soon after his sudden and disconcerting mumrik growth spurt to be a coincidence. All Snufkin could do was hope that the Joxter could meet his urgent questions with answers.

- // - // - // - // -

It had been discovered early on that Snufkin was startlingly bad at hibernation. Unable to stay deeply enough asleep, he had roamed the Mymble’s house half feral for three winters while his mother and siblings slept, eating all the potatoes and turnips and tinned fish out of the cupboards.

Sensing which way the wind was blowing, the Joxter had taken his son along on his yearly wander Snufkin’s fourth winter, beginning the long process of teaching his kit all he knew about a vagabond’s way of life. They had traveled together each year after that, The Winter of the Broken Leg notwithstanding, until one autumn the typical mumrik independence and wanderlust eventually took Snufkin down his own path. Every spring, though, still somehow found them meeting again in Moominvalley where their family and friends congregated. It was an odd arrangement for mumriks, but one that suited them just fine.

The Mymble’s ramshackle Moomin-built house was on solid ground now, attached with a quick annex to her original home. (It had been a production to move it off the back of the behemoth sea turtle, but with everyone’s help they had managed in the end.) Gazing up at it as he left the shelter of the forest, Snufkin recalled past homecomings—racing across the little meadow with his father when he was small, the Joxter pretending to let him win; his mother’s laughter as she scooped them both off the ground in her happiness, he in one arm and Joxter in the other; his father’s purrs loud in the bright springtime air as a dozen small siblings tumbled around them. He felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia.

The wave of little sisters and brothers that hit him a moment later effectively took care of the nostalgia.

“Mother, I’m back,” he called, staggering up to the verandah with at least seven small passengers clinging to his person. “Happy spring.”

In a moment the door popped open and the impressive figure of the Mymble appeared, wearing a look of good-natured curiosity about the source of the hubbub. Catching sight of him, she gasped happily. “Snufkin, dear! Happy spring!” She hurried out, shooing the little ones off to wrap their older brother in a tight hug.

Snufkin let out an ‘oof!’ as his boots left the ground. He knew better than to struggle. “Did Little My remember to tell you that I was back?” he wheezed.

“She did. Better than a carrier pigeon for spreading the word, that little dickens is.” Finally the Mymble set him gently back on his feet. “Look at you,” she said delightedly, holding him at arm’s length for inspection. “You’ve done three years of growing since last summer! You look so much like Joxy. So handsome.”

Snufkin flushed, smiled, and, quite without being able to help himself, began to purr. “Thank you. But I think you’re a bit biased.”

“Mothers are allowed to be.” She patted his cheeks affectionately, then glanced down. “Are you ready to let me make you a new scarf yet?”

The purr stopped cold. Pulling away, Snufkin gripped his old, dingy, once-sunflower-yellow scarf protectively with both paws. “No.”

The Mymble shook her head and laughed. “Of course, of course. I had to try. Come along inside, my dear. I’ll put the kettle on.”

The horde of children followed them into the house. Some of them clung to the hem of Snufkin’s coat. One took hold of the end of his tail (thankfully gently enough that he didn’t see fit to take it away). Snufkin let his paws wander, distributing pats and strokes to the tops of their heads as they walked. This batch had been just old enough to recognize him as family the last summer and seemed to remember him fondly enough.

Snufkin wondered on occasion if his tendency to keep to himself was partially because he had been the only kit in his litter—something the Mymble had experienced on only two other occasions, which had resulted first in her oldest daughter, Mymble Jr., and then later in Little My. He wondered too if perhaps mymbles and mumriks simply weren’t very compatible biologically, given that his parents had been together so long without ever having another child together. His older sister Mymble had simply called him “special” and everyone left it at that. He’d had Moomintroll, Sniff, and Snorkmaiden to play with when he wanted the company of children his own age, so he had never felt disappointed by his lack of immediate siblings.

“Have you had your breakfast yet?” the Mymble called over her shoulder. “We were just finishing up, but there’s plenty of porridge if you’re hungry.”

Snufkin, whose stomach reminded him pointedly that coffee alone did not a breakfast make, allowed her to spoon him up a piping hot bowl of porridge with butter and sugar. He sat at the end of one of the long table’s bench seats and dug in as his mother put the kettle on and finished clearing away all the tiny, empty bowls and spoons and glasses. The children dispersed to their games with varying degrees of noise and destruction.

“I don’t suppose Papa has been around yet?” Snufkin asked between bites.

“No, not yet, but I expect he’ll find his way back soon enough. He does so love napping in the plum trees when they blossom.” The Mymble smiled fondly, setting the last bowl out to dry. “Now then, let me get us some tea and you can tell me all about your exciting winter out in the wide world.”

He hadn’t held out much hope that the Joxter would really be back so soon, but Snufkin still had to restrain a sigh as he finished off his porridge. “I’m afraid it wasn’t the most exciting trip I’ve ever taken. More dreary and uncomfortable than anything, really.”

“Oh?” She blinked curiously. A cup of tea replaced his empty bowl. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. That’s unlike you—you usually love traveling. What happened to make it so unpleasant?”

Snufkin took a sip of tea, fighting the urge to squirm with embarrassment. The Mymble was his mother, after all. He should be able to talk to her about these sorts of growing up things, shouldn’t he? Besides, she had plenty of practical experience with at least one full-blooded mumrik. Perhaps she could provide some insight. “Well, that’s just it. It is unlike me. But this winter was full of so many… changes.” His tail flipped up reflexively to avoid being trod on as two little siblings ran by, perfectly illustrating his point. “If I’d known what was going to happen this winter I’d have spent it with the Moomins and just tried to weather the worst of it.”

The Mymble patted his paw sympathetically. “I can’t imagine growing fur would be very fun at all. But don’t you worry, sweetling. No matter how your outside changes, you’re still our dear Snufkin on the inside.”

“It’s not just on the outside, though.” Snufkin frowned thoughtfully into his teacup. “It’s the strangest thing. Last autumn when I left, all I wanted to do was turn around and come back. I missed home all winter long. Between the itching and my tail aching and just wanting to go home, I barely enjoyed traveling. And now that I’m back, all I want to do is hang on everyone.” Especially Moomintroll, he pointedly left out. “You know I’m not usually one for being around people too much. I’m just not myself, but when it’s happening, in the moment, it feels so natural. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh! Oh, my darling.”

Snufkin glanced up. “What?”

Hands crossed over her heart, the Mymble bestowed upon him the same adoring smile that lit her face when one of her new babies took their first wobbly steps, chubby hand clinging to her skirts. “What you’re feeling is perfectly natural.”

He sat up a bit straighter. “It is?”

“Of course it is. Oh, I should’ve suspected it. You’ve always taken most after your father’s side deep down. You know we mymbles are creatures who want company more often than not, but even mumriks need the comfort of another’s presence sometimes. If you’re being drawn to it so strongly, then this must be a prelude to your first seasonal cycle.”

Snufkin blinked. Blinked again. Shook his head as if to clear his ears of stream water. “Seasonal... seasonal cycle. Wait, what? Mymbles don’t have those.”

“Of course they don’t, dear, but mumriks do. If they all wandered around being solitary vagabonds all the time, how would they ever find love? There’d never be the precious pitter-patter of little mumrik paws. Your instincts are just buttering you up; helping you be near others more easily so you’ll have a better time finding a romantic partner.”

“Well then, they can stop. I don’t romance,” he declared firmly, tail tip twitching indignantly on the floorboards. He took an offended sip of tea.

The Mymble chuckled merrily. “Apparently that’s what your father said, too. And what do you know, here you are anyway. He might never have acted on his interest in me without that little instinctive nudge.” She glanced out the window at the unfolding spring morning with a happy sigh. “What a courtship that was. Joxy was so affectionate. We’d lie in the sun together for hours, just talking about any old thing, and oh, how he’d purr.”

Snufkin smashed down the uneasy memory of doing exactly the same with Moomintroll the day before. But that was different, surely. Two best friends catching up after a whole season apart was perfectly natural. Nothing like courting behavior at all.

“By the time his cycle was in full swing we were thoroughly smitten. A while later you came along, and now you’re all grown up and get to experience the wonder of it all for yourself. Nature knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Snufkin felt the smallest bit ill. “I think I’ll pass.”

“You say that now, but when the moment arrives I think you’ll be singing a different tune. You can’t know until you experience it firsthand, the indescribable joy of it; a young person’s first sweet union with another. The closeness, the intimacy, the euphoria of the first time—!” She suddenly paused her impassioned speech, glancing around as if only then remembering she had an audience. A sea of small faces stared up uncomprehendingly. “A-hem. Well, I’m sure you get the picture, dear.”

Fortunately, or perhaps more unfortunately, Snufkin did. Face red, he took a large gulp of lukewarm tea. “Yes, I definitely think I shall pass, thanks.”

The Mymble laughed heartily. “And I suppose you’ll pass on breathing, next?”

His tail began to swish crossly. The tuft of it hit a toy ball, sending it spinning across the floor with a pack of children hot on the chase. “Well, of course not, but it’s not as if I’ll die if I don’t act on whatever this seasonal business is trying to make me do.” After a moment grumpily contemplating the bottom of his teacup, he hazarded a glance at her. “Will I?”

“Not to my knowledge, no, but you would be fairly sad and miserable. Seems to me it would be much nicer to be prepared for your cycle than wait until the urge forces you to make silly choices you might not look back on too fondly when it’s over.”

“Forces?” Snufkin desperately tried to convince himself that his voice hadn’t come out in a squeak. “You mean I won’t be able to help being… romantic… any more than I’ve been able to stop myself being so clingy?”

“Not clingy, darling, affectionate! It’s not a bad thing.” She set her cup back in its saucer. “But yes. That’s what happens next, naturally. It’s the way of things; not something we have to dither over. From what I’ve seen of your father, the urge comes on fairly strong and lasts a few days, at least. There doesn’t seem to be much use in resisting. It’s just not worth the hassle and uncomfortableness when you could be feeling so wonderful instead. You’ve picked a partner, I hope? There are so many delightful young creatures in the valley.”

“Oh…” Pupils blown unnaturally wide, Snufkin stared unseeingly at the wall. His breathing began to quicken as cold, hard realization finally set in. “Oh, dear Booble. I’m going to climb Moomintroll like a tree.”

“Oh? Good for you, Snuffykins!” The Mymble beamed happily. “What an excellent choice. That young Moomintroll is a real gem. He built us our lovely mobile home, you know; very selfless of him.”

“No!” Snufkin screeched as he came back to himself, startling three small children off the table. “No, I can’t. Not Moomintroll. It’s out of the question. He would hate it—hate me. I’m his very best friend. He’d be so hurt.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course he wouldn’t be hurt,” his mother soothed, taking one of his paws comfortingly in hers. Her thumb pressed into the hardening pad on one of his own in a considering fashion. “No, you’ve barely got any claws at all to speak of. They wouldn’t hurt a flea, let alone a great lump of Moomin. You just climb away!”

Snufkin leapt to his feet so quickly he almost toppled over the bench backwards. His empty teacup rolled off the table and landed upside down on a small child’s head. The room spun. Dashing around the waddling obstacles of his tiny half-siblings, he was out the door, over the verandah rail, and escaping across the meadow, utterly at the mercy of a finely honed fight-or-flight response.

The Mymble blinked a bit at her son’s abrupt departure. A moment later, though, a tender smile overtook her. A hand rose to press fondly to her bosom. “Ah, the ecstasy of first love. Just can’t wait another moment to see his darling, the dear little thing. He’s grown up so fast. Oh, to be young again!”

Shooing two more children out of her easy chair she took up her knitting, looking forward more than ever to the Joxter’s impending return. He was sure to be just as proud as she was.

- // - // - // - // -

Snufkin raced down the path, heart thudding faster than the pounding of his boots on the damp earth of the forest trail.

He had to leave Moominvalley. Immediately. It was the only thing to be done. Already he had only to take one look at Moomintroll’s wide, welcoming smile and he was lost, crumbling to his traitorous instincts’ demands for affection, for contact, for embraces and nuzzles. What would he do if what he had done in his sleep that morning had really been only a small taste of what was to come?

I’d make an utter, pathetic fool of myself, he thought bitterly, hurtling a rotting log that lay across the path. His pace barely slowed.

Poor Moomintroll. It was bad enough that the friend he counted on to be cool and collected was being a clingy, purring mess. It would be so much worse if he had to deal with blatant, unwanted sexual advances from said friend. And anyway, even if Moomintroll was unattached (which he certainly was not) what kind of lover could Snufkin possibly hope to make? He was a flighty, vagabond mumrik who couldn’t stay in one spot more than a season or two, and Moomintroll wasn’t a mymble who could be content with partners that drifted in and out on a whim. He deserved better.

Snorkmaiden is beautiful. She has manners. I’m nothing more than a scruffy traveler that lives in a tent. Snorkmaiden’s a proper young lady fit for courting. I’m just a tramp who’s apparently also about to become a shameless tart— Half blinded by unshed tears, he tripped on a jut of rock and sprawled flat out on the ground.

The fall did him a world of good. The air left his lungs and all thought left his head, and for half a minute he was preoccupied fully with sitting up, brushing off, and coaxing his chest to expand again. He got slowly back to his feet. His hat had flown several strides down the path without him. Snufkin dusted it off, put it back on his head, and set off calmly in the direction of Moominhouse to break camp.

Chapter 4: Important conversations

Chapter Text

“You look like a big white stork perched up there. Just much, much rounder. No, wait, I’ve got it; crouch down and hide your tail. You’ll be a dead ringer for the full moon.”

“You could be up here helping, you know,” Moomintroll shouted from the spine of the garden shed’s roof, hammering a nail into a shingle with more force than strictly necessary.

Down on the grass, Little My nibbled her way through a plate of cheese and crackers from Moominmamma’s lawn chair. “I am helping. I’m supervising.” A long, satisfied slurp of juice gurgled up her bendy straw. “That row isn’t very straight, by the way.”

Balanced on a ladder leaned against the side of the shed, Moominpappa waved off her observation. “It looks absolutely straight from up here. Well done, son. You’re doing a fine job.”

Mollified, Moomintroll tapped in the next nail. “Thank you, Pappa. At least someone appreciates my efforts.”

“Next year I think you may be ready to help with the roof on the house. A chip off the old block!”

The younger Moomin cast an incredulous look over his shoulder at Moominhouse, soaring high above the diminutive shed. He had been climbing up and down his rope ladder most of his life, and the roof wasn’t that much further off the ground than his bedroom, but he did appreciate now why Moominmamma had always insisted that her husband tether himself to the chimney while working up there. “Thanks. I’ll look forward to that.”

“How are your nails holding up?” Moominpappa stood on tiptoe, craning his neck for a better view. The old wooden ladder creaked loudly.

Moomintroll tipped the small tin pail toward him. “Could do with a refill. Maybe another pawful or two? That should get me to the end.” They had been on the job since just after breakfast, and now, just before lunch, were almost finished with the shingles.

“Say no more; I’ll have them in a jiffy.” Tucking his hammer into his tool belt, Moominpappa began to back down the ladder.

Moomintroll carefully set his own hammer to the side. Straddling the pinnacle of the roof, he looked out at the sprawling forest of Moominvalley and the mountains beyond. A fresh breeze laden with the scents of flowers and new growth blew through his fur. He took a deep breath, exhaling on a happy sigh. Another gorgeous day. And we’re almost done with the roof already. Pappa doesn’t have the paint yet, so I bet I’ll get the rest of the day free. Maybe Snufkin wants to join us for lunch, and then we could— Eager blue eyes turned in the direction of the stream.

The opposite bank was bare. Snufkin’s tent was nowhere to be seen.

Moomintroll’s tail went stiff in panic. He pushed himself up straighter with a shout of dismay. “Ah! Snufkin’s gone!”

Moominpappa, startled by the sudden outburst, missed a rung on the ladder and came down hard on the rung below. There was a crack as it snapped clean in half. The older troll disappeared from view with a whoop of surprise, leaving only his top hat precariously balanced on the edge of the shed roof where it had landed.

“Oh no, Pappa!” Attention immediately diverted, Moomintroll scrambled down the incline and peered over the edge.

Moominpappa was wedged between two rungs in the ladder by his round middle and bulky tool belt. With the upper end of the ladder still propped solidly against the shed roof, his feet peddled uselessly above the ground. “Dash it all—free me at once!”

Little My screamed with laughter from her lawn chair.

“Don’t worry, Pappa, I’m coming.” At one corner of the shed stood a large wooden rain barrel, its solid lid not yet removed from the winter. Moomintroll carefully lowered himself from the roof to the barrel, then to earth. “Oh, dear. Stop wiggling, you’re getting yourself stuck even tighter.” He took hold of the ladder with a wince. “Alright, I’m going to tip you, okay? Just hang on.”

His father huffed breathlessly. “Hate to break it to you, son, but hanging is literally all I can do at the moment.”

The front door opened. Drawn by the shouting, Moominmamma came out onto the verandah. “What’s all the commotion out here? Is everything alright?”

Moominpappa made his way around the shed and into view. The ladder clung stubbornly around the widest part of his stomach, just below the tool belt. Little My ducked as he turned to face the house and the entire length of it swung through the air like the wings on a biplane, narrowly missing her. “Hullo, dearest. Absolutely nothing to worry about; I’ve got it all under control. Is lunch ready?”

“Very nearly, my love. But I don’t think you can fit through the door that way.”

In the end, they set Moominpappa up between the muskrat’s hammock trees. Moomintroll, Moominmamma, Little My, and the muskrat all took hold of his front, dug in their heels, and heaved backwards, the trees holding the ladder steady.

Little My was still laughing so hard she could barely pull, her grip slipping on the muskrat’s tail. “Didn’t this exact thing happen in that storybook about the bear that eats so much he gets wedged inside the rabbit’s burrow, and all the little creatures have to come pull him out?”

Moominpappa wriggled and squirmed as he was tugged, making a great variety of offended noises. “I say, I’ll have you know that I am in tip top physical condition.”

“Of course you are, dear,” his wife assured, gripping the tool belt around his waist. “Now just suck in a bit and we’ll have you out in a jiffy.”

He came loose with an audible pop. The ladder clattered to the ground as they all fell back in a heap with the muskrat on the bottom (Little My having had the good sense to scamper out of the danger zone the moment things gave way).

Moominmamma stood and dusted off her apron. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now come inside and wash up. You can mend that old ladder and finish the shingles after lunch.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, Mamma,” Moomintroll promised, extracting himself from the grumbling muskrat. He trotted worriedly toward the bridge.

A small square of squashed grass and the cold fire ring were all that remained of Snufkin’s camp. The troll stood at the foot of the bridge forlornly. The vagabond must have come back and packed up while he and Moominpappa had been working on the shed. He had to have seen them at it while he took down his tent and packed his knapsack. It would have been so easy for Snufkin to pop up to the house and let Moomintroll know that he was going. Why hadn’t he?

After a moment’s consideration, Moomintroll stuffed a paw deep into the letterbox. No letter of explanation met his frantically searching fingertips. Snufkin always left a note, at least, before he set off on one of his wanders. He wouldn’t just disappear without a word if something wasn’t wrong.

It’s because I pet him this morning, he thought, stomach sinking to his toes. It has to be. He looked so startled; I knew something was off. Argh, you foolish Moomin, what were you thinking? You can’t just go around petting creatures who aren’t used to having fur! Of course he’s offended!

He dropped his forehead against the letterbox. A hollow thunk echoed. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Very easily, I expect.”

Moomintroll didn’t even bother glancing down at Little My’s voice. “Just once, would it kill you to leave me to my misery?”

The eye roll could practically be heard. “Oh, come off it. I’m sure this is about Snufkin, and I’m equally sure my ridiculous brother just peopled himself out yesterday. He was stuck to you like a co*cklebur from dawn to dark. He just needs space. He’ll be back.”

Moomintroll sighed deeply. “I’m pretty sure I did something that upset him. He didn’t even leave a note.”

“Well, let him be upset. He’ll still come back. He’s almost as fond of you as Snorkmaiden is, and she’s the most hopelessly attached creature I’ve ever witnessed.” Fists on her hips, the tiny mymble tapped her foot thoughtfully on the path. “Or, I suppose we could hunt him down so you could apologize right away. That might be entertaining. I could organize the troops for a headhunt.”

At the mention of her squad of small siblings, the troll blinked. “Oh. That reminds me, Snufkin said he was going to visit your mother this morning. Maybe he told her where he’s going. I could just ask her, and then go find him and apologize.”

Little My huffed. “Tch. Take all the fun out of it.”

“Do you want to come along?” Moomintroll asked.

“You just want protection from the littles.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he agreed. “One of the newer ones is a tail tugger.”

“In that case, I’m definitely staying. You need to toughen up, you great marshmallow pudding.”

He rubbed crossly at his soft midsection. “M’not a pudding,” he mumbled, following her back toward the house. “I just don’t like my tail tugged, that’s all.”

- // - // - // - // -

Moomintroll hurried through a light lunch of Moominmamma’s split pea soup and butter on fresh bread. “I’m going to take a walk over to Mrs. Mymble’s house and see if she’s seen Snufkin,” he explained, quickly pushing in his chair at the table on the verandah. “Pappa, can you finish up the shingles by yourself?”

His father took a much more leisurely sip of soup. “Oh, I suppose so. I’ll have to patch up that dratted ladder first, at any rate. It’s headed for the midsummer bonfire if it’s not careful.”

“Have a nice walk, dear,” Moominmamma told him. “While you’re there, please tell Mymble I’ll be in touch soon about the spring party.”

Little My shook her head with a wry smile, dipping a crust into her bowl. “You know she’s just going to forget if he does.”

“I’ll mention it anyway,” Moomintroll promised. “See you later, everyone.”

He hurried off down the path and into the forest. It really was a lovely day for a walk, sun shining and birds chirping everywhere. The thought that he could have been taking that walk with Snufkin if his friend hadn’t been avoiding him soured his mood somewhat.

“I will apologize, and then I will keep my paws to myself for the rest of the year,” he muttered as the clearing where the Mymble family lived grew nearer. It didn’t matter how soft that new auburn fur his friend had grown was, or how charmingly it decorated Snufkin’s handsome face, or how nicely it gloved his clever paws, or how well it accentuated his slender chest…

Shaking himself hard, Moomintroll trotted out into the meadow that was the Mymble’s lawn. A large cluster of tiny children milled about at the front of the house in varying states of cleanliness and undress. By the water pump, the Mymble knelt by a wooden tub overflowing with bubbles.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Mymble,” the troll called as he approached. “Hello, everyone. How’s bath time?” The legion of children regarded him with interest but thankfully didn’t break ranks.

“Hello, Moomintroll! So nice to see you out and about.” The Mymble smiled happily and waved with one soapy paw, then scooped up the next child and lowered him in. “It’s such a warm day I decided to spare the bathtub from this muddy lot.” She scrubbed the tiny lad industriously.

Moomintroll dodged a splash. “Perfectly understandable.”

“So, what brings you out to our neck of the woods today?” she asked cheerfully.

“I’m actually looking for Snufkin. Do you know where he is, by any chance?”

“Just look at you two lovebirds, fluttering circles around each other,” she chuckled, hoisting the dripping child out of the tub. The little boy promptly shook himself off and scurried directly into the nearest mud puddle. “Snufkin ran off toward Moominhouse this morning like his tail was on fire. It’s too bad you missed one another.”

Moomintroll felt his snout go flush. “Lovebirds? But we’re not—” Then the rest of her words sank in. “Did he say if he was going anywhere else? He’s moved his tent away from Moominhouse without saying anything.” His ears wilted with worry. “I’m worried that I’ve upset him.”

“Oh? Ah, well, that’s a shame. Poor dear’s always been so bashful.” The Mymble took down one of her tiny daughters’ ponytails, soaping the freed hair while the child idly chewed on the edge of the tub. “Don’t worry yourself, Moomintroll. Snufkin isn’t cross with you. I’m sure he’s just feeling a bit shy, what with it being his first seasonal cycle and all.”

The troll stared at her blankly for a long moment. Then, like a window shade zipping up with a whoosh to suddenly illuminate a dark room, the truth dawned. “By… my… tail, that’s it! Of course that’s it!”

Naturally Snufkin, famed loner, jealous guarder of his personal space and privacy, would be mortally embarrassed by a sudden need to cast it all to the wayside and actively seek the company of others. Oh, he had to find his friend and let Snufkin know there was nothing to be embarrassed about! Moomintroll would spend as much time with him as he wanted! He would give him all the hugs he wanted! He would—

“I knew you’d understand.” The Mymble’s voice breached his racing thoughts. “He’s just a bit out of sorts, is all. He said something about climbing you like a tree and was all of a fuss that it would hurt you, of all things.” She gave an amused huff, tipping the washtub as the last child toddled quickly away. The remaining water spilled out brown.

Moomintroll blinked stupidly. “… come again?”

“Now, now, my dear, don’t fret. I’m sure Snufkin will come around before long.” Oblivious to his discomfiture, the Mymble propped the empty tub against the verandah to dry and brushed her arms off briskly. “There, that’s all done.” She glanced around them, taking stock of where the children had got to, before putting a paw on the young Moomin’s shoulder. “Let me tell you a little something about mumriks, Moomintroll. They may take a bit to warm up to it, but their pre-season purrs and affections are a treasure. And when they’re fully into their cycle, well… let’s just say they can become a wee bit feisty.”

“Feisty,” Moomintroll parroted as his brain promptly went blank at her conspiratorial wink.

“But that’s also a treasure, and it’s absolutely nothing you can’t handle—big, strapping lad that you are.” The Mymble gave him a slap on the back that nearly bowled him over. “I have every confidence you two will work things out.”

Left with no other option, Moomintroll just nodded a bit desperately. “Right. Of course.”

“Good lad.” She nodded approvingly. “Well, I’d best get the supper started. You run along now and see if you can find that son of mine. Something tells me he won’t have gone too far.”

Nodding dumbly, Moomintroll turned and started off in the direction of Moominhouse in a daze.

The Mymble’s voice rang behind him as she immediately moved on with her day. “Alright, everyone! Let’s have a count: stew or sandwiches for dinner?”

- // - // - // - // -

Moomintroll walked through the familiar forest as if in a fog, blind to the clusters of spring wildflowers and the sunbeams spilling through the arms of trees spangled green with unfurling leaves. The merry chatter of brooks filled with snowmelt and the joyous songs of the birds couldn’t hope to be louder than his racing thoughts. Those thoughts were all of a jumble, but eventually he was able to pick them apart and begin to parcel out the most important points.

One: There was actually a rhyme and reason to Snufkin’s oddly affectionate behavior this spring, and that reason was a budding seasonal cycle that would, theoretically, soon bloom into strong romantic intent.

Two: Snufkin was upset by point number one and was afraid that he would treat Moomintroll as a potential target of that romantic intent, thereby hurting him. Moomintroll’s fur stood up at the strangely enticing thought of his best friend’s tiny claws digging into his back. He dashed the idea away guiltily—of course it was emotional hurts, hurts to their friendship, that Snufkin would be concerned with.

Three: Snufkin had apparently moved camp to get away from Moomintroll. Why he had come to Moominhouse at all rather than camping out elsewhere and waiting for his cycle to pass was a mystery, unless he hadn’t realized what was happening until very recently. That made sense, if this was indeed his first such cycle.

Four: Snufkin was now alone somewhere in the forests of Moominvalley (if the Mymble was right and he hadn’t left the valley entirely). A Snufkin alone in the forest was not normally a bad thing; often quite the opposite. But now, being alone meant that he was going without the company and closeness that every little creature needed in the buildup to their seasonal cycle.

Five: Moomintroll was very upset by point number four.

Moomintroll hadn’t a single doubt that Snufkin was alone and not seeking out a partner to spend his cycle with. He had never heard his friend express romantic interest in anyone from Moominvalley, though there were a few obvious candidates—sweet Ninny, clever Alicia, even steady and dependable Too-Ticky. He had never heard Snufkin speak fondly of anyone from outside the valley, either. To all but a very few the mumrik was as private and mysterious as the depths of the sea. It went against the laws of nature to imagine him seeking intimacy from someone he wasn’t already very familiar with.

It was quite the dilemma. But what could anyone do about it?

Moomintroll heaved a deep sigh and sat down slowly on a stump beside the path. His tail hung dejectedly down the side, trailing through the mushrooms on the bark as he thought about his friend. Oh, poor Snufkin. He’s always had such a hard time admitting when he needs anything. I’m sure he’s embarrassed. But he wanted to be so close yesterday… I’m sure he’s lonely, too. Someone ought to be holding him. Someone should be telling him how splendid he is, and how lucky they are he chose them as his partner.

The Mymble seemed to think that someone should be Moomintroll. Moomintroll wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong.

It had been several years since he had admitted, if only to himself, that the love he felt for Snufkin went beyond what even the best of best friends felt for one another, but wasn’t quite the same as the love he felt for his parents or Little My (who was basically his sister as much as she was Snufkin’s by this point). And that wasn’t even taking into consideration how physically attractive he found his best friend—a different kind of lovely than a colorful Snork or a pleasantly round Moomin, but breathtaking all the same, and more than enough to stir up dreams and fancies that got his tail in a twist.

The thought that Snufkin, his Snufkin that he admired and cared for so much, might feel the same, would consider him as a romantic partner, was indescribable. If life were different Moomintroll would be dancing his way home right now to find Snufkin and possibly never let the vagabond out of his arms again. But life was what life was, and Moomintroll already had a partner in Snorkmaiden. Beautiful, brave, imaginative, vibrant Snorkmaiden, who loved him dearly and whom he also loved and adored.

Moomintroll covered his watery eyes despairingly. Why did these things have to be so hard? Snufkin’s carefree parents certainly never had this kind of trouble.

Moominpappa had explained to him years ago that the Joxter wasn’t bothered by sharing his lady’s affections. On the contrary, he was actually glad that the Mymble had other “gentleman callers” (Moominpappa had hemmed and hawed over finding the right term, to Moominmamma’s amusem*nt) to keep her company while the Joxter heeded the call of his mumrik nature to roam. That had made perfect sense to a young Moomintroll. If Snorkmaiden was lonely and Moomintroll wasn’t there to play with her, he would much rather she have other playmates than be left all alone and sad. He had never found the need to question it again.

If only…

Moomintroll sat on his stump for a long time. A family of hedgehogs waddled by all in a row, glanced up at his melancholy sigh, and trundled quickly on. The sun moved steadily through the trees as he thought about mymbles and mumriks, Moomins and Snorks.

Finally he stood and set off down the path. At the next fork, he turned toward Snorkmaiden’s house.

- // - // - // - // -

Snorkmaiden was sitting on a blanket under the tree in the side garden with an open book propped against her knees. Next to her were a pitcher, a glass, and a small plate with an empty muffin wrapper on it. Engrossed in her reading, she didn’t notice Moomintroll’s approach until he cleared his throat hesitantly.

“Oh, Moomintroll!” Her tail wagged happily against the blanket as she looked up. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He waved with the tips of his fingers. “Hi.”

“I didn’t know you were coming by. Have a sit, m’love.” Marking her place with a bit of ribbon, Snorkmaiden set the book aside and shifted over, patting the blanket beside her invitingly.

“Thanks.” Moomintroll sat down tentatively, paws folded in his lap. His ears twitched nervously.

“What are you up to today? I thought you’d be helping Moominpappa with the shed shingles.”

“I was. We had a bit of a… setback with the ladder. Don’t worry, he didn’t break anything,” he assured at her alarmed expression. “Anything on himself, I mean. So I took a bit of a walk. To the Mymble’s house.”

“Oh, really?” Snorkmaiden blinked curiously. “Surprised you willingly went near the horde. How is she? Is the Joxter back?”

“She’s fine. No, no sign of the Joxter yet.” Moomintroll’s tail had begun to quiver with nerves. He pulled it into his lap and held it firmly.

His girlfriend frowned. “Moomintroll, is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“Well, you’re wringing your tail, for one. Stop that, all the hairs will fall out again.”

He looked down with a start and found that he was. “Oh. So I am.” Moomintroll forced himself to let it go. “So. Snorkmaiden. On the topic of the Mymble and the Joxter…” He took a deep breath and stepped off the ledge before he could think twice. “Don’t you think it’s lovely how much they love each other?”

Snorkmaiden nodded slowly, clearly confused. “Well, yes, I suppose so. Quite lovely.”

“Isn’t it romantic, how he’s always wandering away to somewhere or other, but he always comes back to her in the end?”

Smiling now, Snorkmaiden leaned sweetly against him. “Very romantic.”

“And isn’t it nice how she has other partners, but she never loves him any less? And he knows that she never loves him any less for having other partners, and he never loves her any less for having other partners, so they just keep on living their lives, romantically and happily and in love—”

Snorkmaiden went rigid against him. “Waaait.” She pulled away from his side slowly, her pretty brown eyes narrowed shrewdly as she turned the full force of her attention on him. “Moomintroll.”

He swallowed and fought the urge to wring his tail again. “Yes?”

“Is this you trying to tell me that you have feelings for someone else, but you still love me and don’t want to break up with me?” she demanded.

Moomintroll’s ears stood up in shock, his snout pinking in a blush. That was of course what it was all about, but he hadn’t expected her to grasp the situation almost immediately. “Erm. Well, maybe it is…”

Arms crossed, she gave him an extremely unimpressed look. “The someone else is Snufkin, isn’t it.”

Moomintroll wondered for a moment whether his whole body might have turned apple red, Snork fashion, before forcing himself to soldier on. He had committed to this the moment he opened his mouth, and, as the saying went, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. “Um. Ah. Hypothetically… what would you say if it was?”

Snorkmaiden stared hard at him for a moment more. Then she laughed, serious expression melting away like March icicles as her tail twirled with mirth against the blanket. “Then I’d say ‘it’s about time Moomintroll realized he’s a moony, moomy marshmallow for Snufkin.’ I thought you’d never admit it.”

For a moment Moomintroll was utterly flabbergasted. Then white paws covered a very red snout as he groaned dramatically. Who else besides his very own girlfriend had figured out how he felt when he thought he’d done so well at hiding it? (Probably a much larger number of creatures than he wanted to think about just then.) “Was I really that obvious?”

“You have absolutely no idea.” Snorkmaiden’s triumphant grin softened. She scooted closer to pat him comfortingly on the back. “But you know, Moomintroll. I would say it’s about time you admitted it, but I’d also say that as long as you don’t forget that you have a beautiful, charming girlfriend,” here she fluttered her eyelashes playfully, “then I suppose there’s no reason you can’t also have a handsome, awkwardly sweet boyfriend.”

“Snorkmaiden!” Moomintroll exclaimed, grasping her paws urgently. “Do you really mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” she said sensibly. “It’s just like you said, really; his parents seem to manage just fine. And I had a very interesting talk with Mymble Jr. last autumn. You know she’s seeing the Inspector, but did you know she and Too-Ticky are also more than just good friends? She loves them both to pieces, and she’s so happy.” Her soft, creamy ears swiveled thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, Snufkin is half mymble, too. He might be predisposed to that sort of thing. One never knows, I suppose.”

Suddenly Moomintroll swooped her into a hug that toppled them both over onto the blanket, his embarrassment quite forgotten as their snouts nuzzled firmly together in a proper Moomin kiss. “You are without a doubt the cleverest, most wonderful Snork maiden in the entire world, and I am the luckiest Moomin in the world to call you mine!”

She shrieked and giggled happily as she returned the nuzzle, turning a charming shade of pink. “Flatterer. Though I do try.” When they had settled, both upright once more, she leaned back a bit, paws loosely clasping his. “I can’t help but wonder, though, what brought this on now? I’ve been waiting for you to say something since last spring. Maybe even the summer before that.”

“It’s Snuf. I love you, and I wasn’t going to say anything to either of you about loving Snufkin too because I didn’t think he’d ever feel the same for me, but… He’s going through some sort of seasonal cycle and it’s got him really distressed. The Mymble said it’s me he wants for a partner.”

“Oh, poor Snufkin,” Snorkmaiden cooed, suddenly sympathetic. “Those can be difficult.” Coincidentally, her first ever seasonal cycle had resulted in a Snorkmaiden who had been restless, hangry, and unable to turn any color but a sickly chartreuse. It had culminated in a bottle of rosewater being lobbed at her brother and the Snork prudently retreating to his workshop for the remainder of the week. “Are you going to go to him, then?”

“If it’s really alright with you, then I will,” Moomintroll decided determinedly. “Hopefully he’ll hear me out. Oh, but for him to hear me out I have to find him.” He frowned deeply, ears wiggling in frustration. “He’s already run off. Who knows where he’s gone to?”

“It is alright with me,” she told him firmly, patting his paw. “We can talk more about this later, but right now you need to find Snufkin as soon as you can. If anyone can find him when he doesn’t want to be found, it’s you.”

- // - // - // - // -

Moomintroll stuffed a knapsack with food. A tin of coffee, a wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread, several apples from the cellar, and some cold leftover pancakes wrapped carefully in a waxed napkin disappeared inside in quick succession. Snufkin was self-sufficient in the wilderness and had fed them both with meals that he foraged and caught on many occasions, but Moomintroll couldn’t count on finding the vagabond right away. The thought of eating nothing but raw mushrooms and last autumn’s acorns held little appeal, so he needed to bring adequate provisions. He grabbed a box of matches, just to be safe.

Moominmamma poked her head into the kitchen curiously, shortly followed by Little My. “What are you doing, dear? Did you not get enough lunch? I’m going to start supper soon, but I could warm the pea soup back up for you if you like.”

“No thanks, Mamma. I’m going camping with Snufkin,” he recited as casually as he could, the excuse he had formulated on his jog home from Snorkmaiden’s house. “Just for a night or two. He’s already gone on ahead.” When he found Snufkin, which he fully intended to, it wouldn’t be a lie.

Moominmamma smiled. “Oh, won’t that be nice? I’ll make you two some sandwiches. And a thermos of hot cocoa.”

“So you did find him. Told you he wouldn’t be upset for long.” Little My’s pleasure at being right faded slowly to suspicion as she watched the Moomins bustle around the kitchen. “But why camping this early in the spring?”

“Well, um…” Moomintroll grabbed desperately for a believable excuse. The very last thing in the world that he wanted was Little My tagging along. She may actually have been a big help tracking Snufkin down, but he would rather lick a hattifattener than have her around for the conversation that would follow. “No real reason, I guess. Just a bit of roughing it. Watching the last of the winter fade away, getting some fresh air and good exercise to start the year off on the right paw!”

One ginger eyebrow ticked up incredulously.

“Do you want to come?” he asked brightly, silently praying that his willingness to have her along would kill the last of her curiosity. “Snorkmaiden wasn’t interested, but I’m sure Snufkin won’t mind if you join us.”

The tiny girl balked. “You’re off your rocker. It’s much too cold to sleep outside yet. Anyway, it’s going to rain tonight. The muskrat said so. He can feel it in his whiskers.”

“Best take an umbrella with you, dear,” Moominmamma said, tucking a jar of jam into the sack. “And a warm blanket.”

Moomintroll did an internal jig of victory. “I will, Mamma. Suit yourself, Little My.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you both catch pneumonia and die.”

Moomintroll rolled his eyes and accepted his (much heavier) knapsack from Moominmamma. “Don’t be so dramatic. Snufkin camps out just about every night of the year, in all kinds of weather, and he hasn’t died yet.”

Little My shrugged flippantly and spun on her heel. “If you say so. All I know is, mumriks have nine lives, so a half-mumrik must start off with four and a bit. Who knows how many he’s already used up?”

Moominmamma handed him an umbrella. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

He shifted uncomfortably, paws fiddling with the handle. “Um, we’re not sure, really. Maybe? It’s kind of an open-ended trip.”

“I see. Well, no hurry. Have a good time, and don’t worry. I’m sure I can handle helping your father paint the shed.”

Moomintroll gave her a grateful nuzzle. “Thanks, Mamma. Maybe you could start a new mural. Give the shed some color?”

She clapped her paws delightedly. “Oooh, maybe I could! What a nice idea. I’ll see what paints we have in the everything room.”

Stopping only to collect the warmest blanket he could comfortably carry (rolled up tight and tucked under the top strap of the knapsack with the umbrella) Moomintroll was off. He crossed the bridge and paused by Snufkin’s abandoned campsite, looking uncertainly into the forest. Late afternoon sun slanted through the trees. Moominvalley wasn’t the biggest valley on the map, but it was plenty big enough for a lone Snufkin to disappear into. Where to even begin to search for him? A single Moomin would be lucky to make much headway before nightfall, especially with no real direction to aim in. Anxiously, he scanned the ground for any telltale signs.

There, in the bare earth from the stream bank to the start of the forest trail, were faint boot prints.

Moomintroll couldn’t claim to be nearly as accomplished a tracker as his friend, but he did know that these prints were fairly new, and pointing toward the mountains. With any luck he would find Snufkin wherever the trail ended. Tail wagging in relief, he followed it into the forest.

Chapter 5: Further important conversations

Chapter Text

Snufkin had taken down his tent as quickly as he could, one wary eye on the fluffy figures atop the garden shed all the while to make sure he wasn’t noticed. Then he made a beeline for the Lonely Mountains.

His first plan had been to leave Moominvalley altogether and return whenever it was safe to do so, but with each step he took away from Moominhouse, the echo of hammering growing ever fainter behind him, his heart and his instincts wailed all the louder. In the end he simply walked until early evening, until he was sure he was properly hidden away in the thick pine forest that grew up the mountain slopes. It was colder up there, with deep patches of snow still spread beneath the shelter of the trees where the sun couldn’t penetrate, but Snufkin was prepared to weather any discomfort if it meant preserving both his pride and his place as Moomintroll’s best friend.

He set up his tent in a tiny clearing where the sun had managed to melt the snow. There was a mountain stream nearby where he collected fresh water and fished for supper. (Though his appetite was quite gone, keeping warm and alert required calories, so he was determined to feed himself just as usual.) It was a beautiful place where a small waterfall splashed rainbows in the springtime sun as it descended, and not far away was the hidden hot spring he had stumbled across years ago while meandering around the valley. At any other time he would have been perfectly content.

Clouds rolled in over the peaks, chasing the sunset away as he fished. The wind picked up. A cold drizzle began not long after. Shivering and feeling quite uncharacteristically sorry for himself, Snufkin headed back to camp to bully a fire to life.

It was a rather pitiful little fire, but given the drizzle he had been lucky to find a dry patch in the lee of a rocky ledge that bordered one side of the clearing. Snufkin nibbled morosely at the single brook trout he had cooked on a skewer over the flames, carefully holding the ends of the stick with his fingertips. Washing his paws had become a much more uncomfortable process since they had grown fur and tripled the time it took them to dry.

Chin up, Snufkin, he told himself firmly. You’re a wanderer. You enjoy being alone. You have a fire, and food, and shelter. You don’t need anything more. This unfortunate situation will pass. Just be patient.

Contrary to his internal pep talk, his next breath puffed out in a deep sigh. It would be easier to be patient if he had some idea of how long his self-imposed exile would have to last. Based on what the Mymble had been able to tell him, he could expect the more extreme effects of his oncoming seasonal cycle to run for approximately a few days. He figured a week, just to be on the safe side. She had, however, neglected to mention how long it might be before the thick of it hit. His father would surely be able to give him more information, but the Joxter had yet to make his yearly appearance. The odds of running into the older mumrik without returning to the heart of Moominvalley and staking him out were slim. And returning to the inhabited part of the valley carried too much risk of running into Moomintroll.

The thought of his friend pulled forth another forlorn sigh. No sooner had it escaped than Snufkin realized what he had done and uttered an indignant, frustrated sound at himself. All this sighing! Lying about, pining like a princess from one of Snorkmaiden’s fairytales. Moomintroll would be embarrassed by you.

Taking what remained of the fish, he stomped back to the stream and flung it in. The smarter fish still alive and swimming would take care of what was left.

Back at camp, Snufkin curled his tail around his knees and huddled close to the fire. The spurs of rock blocked most of the wind, and a large pine overhanging the fire pit protected him from the worst of the drizzle. An occasional drop rolled off the pine needles onto his stalwart hat, then down to the forest floor. He tried to be properly thankful to nature for such shelter, but he could only manage to think of what he had left behind down in the valley. Moomintroll’s fond smiles. His happy laughter. His soft, white fur, pristine as a blanket of fresh snow, so warm as he eagerly pulled Snufkin into a friendly embrace.

He would never touch you like that again if he knew. Far better this way. Behave yourself up here and perhaps you’ll be able to go back by mid-April. Surely by May Day. He flicked a wet pinecone into the fire, watching listlessly as it sizzled and smoked. At least things can’t get any worse.

“Snufkin!”

Every hair on the vagabond’s tail stood straight up. He whipped around on the rock to face the source of the shout. “Moomintroll?!”

“Snufkin!” There, hurrying up the narrow path through the trees, carrying Moominmamma’s favorite umbrella in one paw and waving frantically with the other, was indeed the object of his futile pining. “Thank goodness I found you! It’s so dark I was about to stop for the night, but then I saw your fire.” Beaming happily, he trotted into camp.

Snufkin’s mouth fell open. He watched dumbly as Moomintroll closed the umbrella and hung it neatly by the handle from a convenient tree branch. Stopping a few paces from the fire, the troll shrugged off the knapsack he wore and perfunctorily shook himself off. A halo of tiny water droplets scattered into the night, momentarily fluffing out his fur until Moomintroll looked round and full like a dandelion gone to seed.

“Brr. Chilly night, isn’t it? Good thing you’re so good at making fires.” Moomintroll rambled casually, as if there was absolutely nothing strange about his sudden appearance. He cast about the campsite, spotted a likely looking log in the shadows on the edge of the clearing, and dragged it over to the fire. Plopping down on it as if he’d been invited, he reached for the knapsack. “I know you’ve probably already had dinner, but do you want some hot cocoa? It might only be a bit hot now, but we could heat it up in your pot.”

Snufkin sprang to his feet. The tuft of his tail twitched rapidly in agitation. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

For the first time, Moomintroll showed a hint of discomfort. His ears tipped backward guiltily as he fidgeted with the tie of the knapsack. “… I was worried, Snuf. You said we’d see each other this afternoon and then you just disappeared, with not even a letter. I thought something was wrong. I know you hate being followed. I’m sorry.”

Looking down into soulful blue eyes brimming with apology, Snufkin felt his anger dissipating like sea foam on the sand. It was replaced with a wave of guilt. Over the years he had gotten much better at telling Moomintroll when he was leaving—not always where he was going, but that he was off somewhere or other and a rough estimate of when he would be back. That morning he had been in such a hurry to be gone from Moominhouse before anyone noticed and began asking questions that he hadn’t even spared a moment to slip a note into the letterbox. Even a few reassuring words would probably have eased his friend’s mind enough that he wouldn’t have come after Snufkin at all.

Deflated, Snufkin sank back down onto his rock. “I’m sorry, too. I should have left a note. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Moomintroll’s tail wagged hopefully. “So we forgive each other?”

“We forgive each other,” Snufkin agreed. He straightened his hat with a sigh. “How did you even find me?”

“I got lucky! You left some footprints when you left the stream bank, so I knew which direction you started out in. The hot spring and rainbow waterfall are the only places I really know up this way, so I decided to look here first instead of just wandering around in the woods and getting myself lost. And here you are!”

Snufkin realized with a blink that he had never once changed course, doubled back on himself, or even taken a divergent trail since leaving Moominhouse. The vagabond was no stranger to throwing unsavory characters and authority figures off his trail, and going in a straight line was not how pursuers were given the slip. Clearly he had gone even funnier in the head than he had realized. Or, perhaps he had instinctively sabotaged his own efforts to isolate himself by subconsciously making himself easy to follow. It was an even more frightening thought.

“Well, Moomintroll, you have indeed found me. Well done.” His friend’s fur fluffed with pride, and Snufkin tried not to feel badly about what he forced himself to say next. “But right now I really must be alone for a while. So tomorrow morning I’ll thank you to go back home.”

Moomintroll’s ears wilted. “But Snufkin—”

“Please, Moomee. It won’t be for long; just a few weeks, at most.” He very much hoped he wasn’t lying. “Nothing is wrong, so you don’t need to worry about me. It’s just… more growing pains, I suppose.” He smiled, trying to project reassurance that he didn’t feel. “Just a silly mumrik mood. Nothing to be concerned over.”

“But it can’t be good for you to be on your own right now,” the troll protested unhappily. “You’ll make yourself depressed if you don’t have any contact at all going into your seasonal cycle.”

Snufkin froze. He stared mutely across the fire, chest contracting even as his heart skipped a beat. He knows. How does he know?

“I can help, if you’ll let me.” Oblivious to his best friend’s panic, Moomintroll’s little ears stood at attention, eyes shining with resolve as his paws clenched determinedly. “I would be honored to have you climb me like a tree!”

Snufkin feared for a moment that he might actually faint. “… did you speak to my mother, by chance?” he managed to ask weakly.

“Yes! You said you were going to see her this morning, so when you disappeared I went to ask her if she knew what was going on. She filled me in.”

Snufkin’s tail swept a bare patch in the carpet of pine needles behind him with its angry swishing. He dropped his face into his paws despairingly. “Of course she did.”

He had once overheard an angry fruit seller in a crowded town market declare that the Protector of All Small Beasts didn’t give two squishy plums for mumriks. At the time he’d thought it exceptionally rude and made a point to walk in the other direction, but apparently that honest hemulen had only been speaking the truth. It was clear that absolutely no one was going to protect Snufkin from complete and utter mortification.

Fleeing into the night without any of his gear and running until he collapsed from exhaustion or encountered a convenient cliff suddenly seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but honor kept him glued to his rock. “Moomintroll, I am so very sorry,” he said into his paws. “You weren’t meant to hear any of that.”

“I know I wasn’t, but you don’t have to apologize, Snuf. I’m glad I know! Now I can help you.”

“You absolutely cannot,” Snufkin said firmly, lifting his head to be sure that the troll understood him. “That isn’t something I can ask of you.”

Soft, white ears flicked with nerves. “You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.” Moomintroll took a deep breath and let it out in a rush of words. “Because I love you quite dearly, Snufkin. Not just friend love or family love; ‘special person you want to nuzzle and hold paws with and be alone together all day with’ love.”

Snufkin’s eyes widened owlishly. His tail stilled in the pine needles.

“I have done for quite a while,” the troll admitted sheepishly, plucking at the tuft of his tail. “At least two summers, maybe even longer than that before I realized it myself. I haven’t said anything to you about it because I didn’t think you’d feel the same. But you do feel the same, don’t you, Snufkin? That’s why you’ve been so sweet to me this spring. Well, you’ve been sweet to everyone, and it’s been wonderful, but to me most of all.”

Tiny claws dug into Snufkin’s kneecaps through the ratty fabric of his trousers. On the one paw, he felt lighter than air at his best friend’s completely unexpected confession, heart soaring like a bird on the thermals high over the valley. On the other paw, nagging foreboding nipped at his joy. “… Moomintroll, what about Snorkmaiden?” he asked softly.

“Oh!” Moomintroll sat up ramrod straight on his log, a paw clapped to his forehead. “Of course you’d be worried for her, too. You’re such a good friend, Snuf.” The smile he turned on the mumrik could have melted the last of the snow under the pines. “When I left the Mymble’s house I went to talk to Snorkmaiden.”

Snufkin felt half sick. “What happened?”

“I’ll admit I was a little worried about how she’d react, but do you know what? She had already guessed that I was in love with you. She was just waiting to see if I would do anything about it. Boy, did I feel silly.”

“Wait.” Snufkin shook his head and held up a paw, uncomprehending. “You mean she knew, and she was just waiting to see if you would break up with her? And she still spoke to me? Like a civilized creature? That can’t be right.”

“Oh no, no, of course not!” Moomintroll waved his own paws frantically, clearly much alarmed. “I’m not breaking up with Snorkmaiden. Great Booble, no. She’s perfectly happy for me to be with you if I don’t forget about her, she said. And there’s no chance of that happening, so everything will be fine!”

Oh. So that was how it was. Snufkin tried to lock down his expression as hurt replaced his earlier high. “Somehow I don’t think it will be.”

His friend blinked obliviously. “Why not?”

“Moomintroll, it’s not… this isn’t something I’m going to want only until this,” Snufkin bit his lip, eyes darting away in irritation as he reigned in his tongue, “—this dumb seasonal cycle nonsense is over.”

Moomintroll gaped. “Did you just almost swear?”

“Maybe! My point is that I’m not going to just borrow you from Snorkmaiden and return you like a library book when I’m done.”

The troll’s expression gentled with understanding. “Oh, Snufkin, no. Of course not. I wouldn’t want that either, and that’s not what this is. Snorkmaiden specifically said she didn’t mind if I had a boyfriend. That doesn’t mean just for this week, or this month, or this spring. It’s much more than that. We talked about your parents, how your mother has other lovers while Joxter’s off rambling and that’s fine, and how your sister Mymble is dating both the Inspector and Too-Ticky—”

“Too-Ticky? Really, she is?” Snufkin uncurled from his wary hunch in surprise. “When did that happen?”

“Last autumn, I think. I didn’t know about it either until Snorkmaiden told me.”

“Huh. Her taste in partners is improving.”

Moomintroll snickered. The Inspector was a decent sort where it counted, but altogether too stuffy and law-enforcing for Snufkin to approve of entirely. “Anyway. Do you feel better now? Does that answer everything?”

Snufkin stared into the fire, his tail swishing distractedly behind him as his mind raced. Did that answer everything? Not by a long shot. As desperate as he was to believe (as Moomintroll so obviously did) that all could be well just as simply as that, he couldn’t quite accept Snorkmaiden’s answer so readily. Just a few years ago she had been jealous and fed up with how much time Moomintroll wanted to spend with Snufkin in the spring, when their interactions had been purely platonic. Now she was apparently willing to share her boyfriend’s romantic attentions. What had changed?

“I want to talk to Snorkmaiden,” he decided.

Moomintroll had been plucking at his tail tuft, waiting with admirable patience for Snufkin to work through his thoughts. “That’s a great idea! Tomorrow morning we can head back and—”

“I want to talk to Snorkmaiden alone,” Snufkin clarified. “Just she and I.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine, I suppose. But why can’t I come?” The troll’s head co*cked in innocent confusion.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to know what we talk about, Moomintroll,” Snufkin tried to explain. “It’s just… she thinks the world of you. Sometimes we agree to something to make the creatures we care about happy, even though that something isn’t really what we want ourselves.”

“You think she would tell you the truth if she has reservations about sharing me with you, but she might sugarcoat it if I were there?”

“Precisely.”

Moomintroll nodded slowly. “I see what you mean. I mean, I don’t think her answer will change if you talk about it by yourselves, but I do see your point.” He fixed the vagabond with an earnestly hopeful gaze. “So, if you talk to Snorkmaiden and she convinces you that she really approves of us, then you’ll agree to be my boyfriend?”

Snufkin flushed deeply. He reached up reflexively to pull his hat down over his eyes. “Are you sure you want me to agree to that? Really, truly sure?”

“Very sure,” Moomintroll answered instantly. “I can’t think of anything I’d ever want more.”

“And you say that understanding that this seasonal cycle of mine isn’t going to be just purrs and nuzzles and paw holding the entire time?” he forced himself to say, staring a hole in the campfire to avoid accidental eye contact. “I’ve been told the next part won’t be so… innocent. The last thing I want is for you feel obligated to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

Unexpectedly, the troll grinned. “Well, it wouldn’t really be a seasonal cycle if that didn’t happen eventually, would it?” Seeming satisfied with life in general, he tugged open the knapsack strap and began poking around inside. “Don’t worry, Snuf. I promise that I can handle anything you need to throw at me.” He pulled a thermos from the depths with a pleased noise. “I guess I never told you—you were off somewhere exploring at the time and I didn’t think she’d want me to talk about it anyway—the first time Snorkmaiden had her cycle, I went over to profess my love and formally offer my help and she tackled me before I could even finish talking. Knocked me right over and I banged my head on her dressing table. If that couldn’t take me out, nothing you could do would chase me off.”

Snufkin looked up in complete amazement. “Snorks have seasonal cycles? Then, you and she have…?”

“Yes they do. And, well, yes we have.” Moomintroll scratched behind one ear a bit bashfully. “That was the first time, but we enjoy it fairly often since then. She’s gotten quite good at making the contraceptive potion from Grandma Moomin’s book. Thank goodness for that, or I’m sure you’d have become Uncle Snufkin already.” He held the thermos out guilelessly. “Cocoa?”

Quite unable to help himself, Snufkin began to giggle helplessly. Feeling giddy, he laughed until he had to grip his knees for support. “And all this time I thought you two were the most innocent of sweethearts! How could I have been so wrong?”

“Our love is pure and beautiful,” Moomintroll huffed, pink ears doing a flustered little wiggle. “And also feels very good. Now come over here and drink this cocoa Mamma made us. It’s still a little bit hot.” He scooted over on the log and aimed a significant look at the empty spot beside him.

Smiling unsteadily, Snufkin abandoned his rock. “I suppose I will, considering now up is down and backwards is forwards.” He settled on the log next to his friend and accepted the lid of the thermos in lieu of a mug, gently steaming and full of rich cocoa. “Thank you.”

Moomintroll wriggled delightedly. “I’ve got butter and jam sandwiches, too.”

“You Moomins never fail to come prepared,” Snufkin chuckled. He sipped the cocoa, the warm metal of the thermos lid comforting in his chilly paws. The troll’s warm smile comforted his everything else.

“Mamma made them for us. I told her when I left that I was going camping with you. And look, here I am, camping with you!” Moomintroll spread his paws with a faux-innocent grin. “Conscience clear.”

“Convenient, that.” The vagabond nudged his friend teasingly. Their tails touched behind the log and tangled together immediately.

Moomintroll gently nudged back. “Feeling better now?” he asked fondly.

Finding that he did indeed feel much better, Snufkin nodded. At the very least, even if Snorkmaiden told him that she had changed her mind and would prefer to keep Moomintroll all to herself, he would always have the knowledge that he was loved; that Moomintroll would have had him for a partner if only he could.

“Oh!” He let out a sudden gasp, tail tightening reflexively around the white one twined with it. The cocoa sloshed alarmingly.

The troll looked up from his knapsack, a half unwrapped napkin of sandwiches in his paws. “What’s the matter?”

Snufkin looked up at him guiltily. “I just realized… I never said it back.” He felt his cheeks flushing in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire as he met Moomintroll’s quizzical gaze, but he forced himself on. “I never said that I love you, too.” He took an unsteady breath and said it once more, very softly, just in case. “I love you, Moomintroll.”

Wide blue eyes held his for several heartbeats. Moomintroll flipped the napkin back over the sandwiches and put them aside with great deliberation. Snufkin had only a moment to do the same with the cocoa before he was engulfed in his best friend’s arms and pulled tightly against his soft, fluffy bulk. His hat fell off as a wide snout landed a flurry of nuzzles over his face and hair.

“Oh Snufkin, I love you, too! I love you, I love you, I love you!” The affirmations came as thick and fast as the nuzzles. The troll’s tail thumped almost deliriously against the log in his joy, pulling Snufkin’s along with it. It was hard to tell if he was laughing or crying. Knowing Moomintroll’s gentle nature, it could have been both.

Snufkin returned the embrace, knowing he would come away with his coat covered in little white hairs and not caring a bit. His own eyes were suspiciously damp. “It’s alright, Moomee. It’s alright.”

“Of course it’s not alright. It’s a million times better than alright!”

“Yes, perhaps that is an understatement.” The vagabond chuckled helplessly. He reached up to grasp the other’s cheeks, halting the barrage of affectionate nuzzles.

“Oh. Sorry, I got a bit carried away.” Moomintroll smiled sheepishly and began to pull away.

Before he could, Snufkin guided him down and rubbed his own cheeks, one at a time, very purposefully against either side of his friend’s snout. Then he pressed a mymble-style kiss (the first he had ever given a creature outside his own family) against the tip of the Moomin’s nose. The fine fur was incredibly soft on his lips. A purr began to thrum in the scant space between them.

Moomintroll wiggled in place, seemingly unable to contain his happiness. “If Moomins could purr, I would be,” he giggled, pressing his nose into the kiss. “I can barely believe this is happening!”

“Neither can I.” Snufkin sank bonelessly into the warmth of his friend’s chest, exactly where he had wanted to be all day. Moomintroll’s chin came to rest on the top of his head. Cocooned in warm fur and deep affection, he could almost forget that it might not last. He would focus on the here and now and leave the looming interview with Snorkmaiden to be worried over in the morning.

The troll’s stomach rumbled loudly.

Snufkin glanced up, wide-eyed and innocent. “I must say that was a very nice try, but I don’t think it was quite a purr, exactly.”

“Oh, shoosh! I ran out without eating dinner, thanks to a certain someone; won’t mention any names.” Moomintroll reached down and rescued Snufkin’s damp hat from the ground. Shaking off the clinging pine needles, he put it back where it belonged with a grin. “Absolutely worth it.”

They ate the sandwiches side by side on the log, tails still firmly intertwined. Snufkin, who had only had a bowl of porridge and one fish to last him through an entire day of hiking and internal panic, found himself happy to accept whatever was pressed on him now that both such strenuous activities were on hold. An owl called far off in the darkened forest, counterpoint to the soft music of the raindrops around them.

An involuntary yawn escaped the mumrik. “Goodness. Sorry. It’s been an eventful day.”

“Yes it has,” Moomintroll agreed. He shook the crumbs out of the empty napkin and tucked it back into his knapsack. “Rain’s getting harder, too. We better turn in, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Snufkin chanced a glance at his small tent, really only meant for one. They had been able to share it comfortably when they were smaller, and sometimes even squeeze Sniff or one of their other friends in on top of that, but it would be a rather tight fit for two grown creatures.

Moomintroll followed his gaze somewhat worriedly. “You don’t mind sharing, do you? I brought a blanket, but without a roof it might be a little… damp.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all,” he assured. “You’d be soaked before dawn. Of course we’ll share.” Snufkin’s tail disengaged from his friend’s and curled shyly around his own hip instead. His eyes locked downward on his shuffling boots. “It’s only fair that I warn you, though. There’s a good possibility I could become… hmm. A little too friendly. In my sleep. Without meaning to. It might be a side effect of my seasonal cycle coming up.”

The troll blinked curiously, ears twitching in thought. They popped upright as he got the gist. “Oooh. I see. Did you running off before dawn this morning have anything to do with being ‘up and at ‘em,’ as it were?”

Snufkin shrank under his hat, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot. “Perhaps.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I woke up with the same problem and thought you’d left because you knew about it and felt weird.”

The mumrik’s ears burned even hotter, his face getting in on the action. “Is that so? I was too busy getting away to notice.”

“In my defense, I was dreaming that you were clinging to me and purring, and it felt terribly nice.”

Snufkin cleared his throat, sure that everything from his scarf upwards was now bright red. It seemed a bit unfair that his friend remained so unflustered. “Ah. I see. Well. That… might not have been a dream. My apologies.”

Blue eyes sparkled with mischief in the firelight. “No apologies necessary, I promise. Mutual agreement not to be offended?”

“Mutual agreement not to be offended,” Snufkin agreed. Being offended by his friend’s body was the very last thing that was likely to happen, and therein lay the problem. Snufkin was sure that if they were to wake up the next morning in the same predicament he was likely to do something awfully forward, like mewl piteously for paws to be laid on him.

“Good. So we’re clear to cuddle with impunity?” Moomintroll’s tail wagged at the thought. “We’ll have plenty of time for more later, it sounds like, as your cycle gets going, but I think at first maybe we should just enjoy being close to each other, don’t you think? Get used to the idea of being best friends and boyfriends?”

Had he not already been sitting, Snufkin would have been weak-kneed with relief. It was bad enough that Moomintroll would eventually have to contend with him behaving like a hormone-driven animal without rushing toward the experience. “That sounds more than reasonable. If Snorkmaiden says yes.”

“When Snorkmaiden says yes,” Moomintroll agreed, tail swishing happily as he hopped up off the log. “Shall we?”

The vagabond accepted the helpful paw held out to him and stood. “We shall.”

They carefully banked the fire, leaving the hot coals for morning and the campsite in slightly smoky darkness. Snufkin, who had the advantage with his night-eyes, led his friend carefully to the tent. Moomintroll shook the drizzle from his fur once more before they ducked inside. Snufkin stowed their packs in opposite corners and spread his damp coat on the floor just inside the zipped tent flap, effectively taking up almost all the extra space in the tiny interior. No matter where they sat, they could reach out and touch the other.

“Sorry if I smell like wet fur,” Moomintroll muttered apologetically, pulling his blanket free from his knapsack. “This is still fairly dry, anyway.”

Snufkin unlaced his boots and set them beside the entrance, then set his hat atop them to dry. “If you smell like wet fur, I’m sure I won’t notice over the smell of my own wet fur.” His tail wiggled in solidarity. “Why don’t we put the blankets like this…?”

They spread out Snufkin’s bedroll (it was too small for both of them to squeeze into nowadays) and curled close together with Moomintroll’s blanket pulled snugly up to their ears. Thoroughly tired of resisting his new cuddle impulses after only two days, Snufkin allowed himself to burrow his face and paws into the troll’s soft, thick fur. He worried for a moment whether he would ever again be able to sleep alone without wishing for Moomintroll’s reassuring presence beside him, but pushed the thought away in favor of purring sleepily as an obliging arm draped over him to share the warmth of a Moomin who still had yet to shed his winter coat.

“Goodnight, Snufkin. Sleep well.” Warm breath tickled his hair as Moomintroll’s chin tucked over the top of his head. “Everything’s going to turn out alright, you’ll see.” A gentle nuzzle preceded a content sigh. “I love you.”

Tail squirming happily under the blanket, Snufkin buried his face further into soft fluff. “I love you too, Moomee. Goodnight.”

Rain pattering softly against the canvas of the tent, wind sighing through the pines, they fell softly into sleep.

Chapter 6: New Beginnings

Chapter Text

For the second time in as many days, Snufkin woke up enveloped in warmth. Odd, but as no alarming sounds or smells triggered him to panic, he lay still and came to full wakefulness slowly. A soft snore near his head confirmed that he had company.

Moomintroll had curled into a heat-conserving ball in his sleep. One arm escaped the almost perfect roundness of his slumbering form to wrap around Snufkin, keeping the vagabond tucked securely against him.

Memories of the day before came flickering back like the images cast by a shadow lantern. Embarrassment warred with relief warred with worry before Snufkin gave himself a firm mental shake. Moomintroll returns your love and is holding you right now. Do not spoil this by over-thinking. There will be plenty of time for that later.

It was dawn, birds calling and flapping among the trees. No raindrops sounded on the waxed canvas of the tent, so the rain must have softened again to a drizzle or tapered off altogether. His lower half wasn’t even up to anything untoward beneath their shared blanket; altogether more than enough reason to savor a rare lie in. Snufkin closed his eyes and nestled back down.

Some time later, a scuffle broke out nearby and pulled Snufkin from a light doze. Shrill chirps and screeches outside the tent denoted at least two creeps embroiled in a heated disagreement. One particularly loud outburst jolted Moomintroll from his dreams with a start.

“Wazzat?” He raised his head blearily, blinking against the comparative brightness outside the blanket shield. “Shnrfk’n?”

The mumrik chuckled, stretching leisurely under his friend’s arm. “More or less. Good morning, Moomintroll.”

A smile spread across his furry muzzle like warm syrup over a pancake. “Good morning, Snufkin! Oh, I’m so glad this isn’t just another hibernation dream.”

“How do you know it isn’t?”

“Because your bedhead is never this bad in my hibernation dreams.”

Snufkin put a paw to his friend’s snout and pushed it gently away with pretended offense. “To think that I allowed such a rude beast to sleep in my tent.”

Moomintroll giggled. His tail, poking out the back of the blanket, waved with amusem*nt. “You know I’m teasing. Your bedhead is very cute. Almost as cute as your hat hair.”

“I’ll not stand such insults. Out you go!”

One short but very playful tussle later (during which Moomintroll landed no less than five nuzzles on Snufkin’s blushing face), they stumbled out into the morning. Fine mist lay like a quilt over the forest. The troll’s fur fluffed up against the cool dampness. Under the sleeves of his coat, Snufkin could feel the fur on his own arms doing the same; still a novel sensation.

They pulled down dead, dry branches from the undersides of the pine trees to rebuild the fire. Moomintroll toasted the bread and cheese he had packed while Snufkin prepared some of the coffee. They warmed up Moominmamma’s leftover pancakes and topped them with the jam. Snufkin sliced two of the apples into wedges, and they sat down to a most satisfying breakfast.

“Do you think we’ll be able to make it back home before lunchtime?” Moomintroll wondered, sandwiching his apple slices in between the toasted bread and cheese.

“More than likely. Why do you ask?”

“I left Pappa alone to finish shingling the shed and it makes me a little nervous. He got stuck in the ladder yesterday…”

Snufkin tried very hard not to laugh as Moomintroll regaled him with the story of what he had missed the afternoon before. Then they finished breakfast, doused the fire, and broke camp. As much as the irresponsible part of Snufkin’s brain wanted to keep Moomintroll up here, hidden away all to himself for as long as it felt vital to do so, he knew it couldn’t be done. And as much as he was not looking forward to discussing the situation with Snorkmaiden, the worse it would be if he put it off.

They set off down the foggy trail and made tracks for the valley below. It could have been a typical hike filled with the banter of friends, no different than any they had taken together a hundred times before, had Moomintroll not shyly held out a paw in invitation. Blushing brightly, eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead, Snufkin took it in his own.

The going downhill always being quicker than the going up, they made good time. By midmorning they were more than halfway back to Moominhouse. The trail temporarily left the trees to meander down a rocky section of mountainside, affording a lovely view of the whole of Moominvalley.

Moomintroll suddenly tugged the vagabond to a stop. “Wow, Snufkin, look!”

The sun was shining, chasing off both the mist and a bank of retreating clouds. A full rainbow draped the sky from one corner of the valley to the other.

Snufkin tipped his hat back to take it all in. “How beautiful,” he marveled. “That’s the first one I’ve seen since last autumn.”

Moomintroll’s paw squeezed his fondly. “You know, rainbows symbolize new beginnings.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve become quite the romantic, Moomintroll. That must be Snorkmaiden’s influence.”

The troll brightened. “Do you think so? Please tell her that. Sometimes I think she thinks I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

Compared to the sentimental Moomin, Snufkin suspected that he himself possessed the same level of skill in the arts of love as a common toadstool. It would likely be enough to give a sophisticated and romantic creature like Snorkmaiden the vapors, and not in a pleasant way. He gave the fluffy white paw in his grasp another reassuring squeeze. “Even if you didn’t, I wouldn’t mind. I’m sure you do your best.”

With one more admiring look at the slowly fading rainbow, they continued onward.

- // - // - // - // -

They arrived on the stream bank just past lunchtime.

Moomintroll carried on to let his parents know they were home while Snufkin set about putting his tent back up in what had become its proper place. He felt more secure somehow with the blue beacon of Moominhouse visible out of the corner of his eye, the footbridge where he sat with his best friend just a stone’s throw away.

Pesky nesting instincts, he grumbled to himself as he stowed his pack inside the tent.

“Back so soon?”

Snufkin prided himself on not jumping out of his skin as his shorter, older sister appeared at his side like a spook from the ether. “Hello, Little My. What are you up to on this lovely day?”

She thumbed over her shoulder. “I was under the bridge watching a spider spin a web. Had enough of camping with Moomintroll already?”

“It was a rather wet night,” he pointed out evasively. “And still fairly cold higher up in the mountains.”

Little My nodded sagely. “The marshmallow couldn’t hack it.”

“Now, now, Moomintroll did just fine.” He tutted disapprovingly. “You must remember that the Moomins are gentle creatures, Little My. Being soft is in their natures. It’s nothing to tease them for.”

“I’m not teasing all of them; just him.”

Snufkin shook his head and sighed. “Of course.”

Seemingly satisfied, she sauntered away, no doubt to kick up some mischief somewhere else. Distractions removed, Snufkin debated his next course of action. Sensibility dictated that he make his way to Snorkmaiden’s house right away. Self-preservation insisted he put it off, perhaps indefinitely. He thought about asking the cards, but what if they told him something grim? His tail was beginning to flick in agitation when Moomintroll appeared in his line of sight up on the verandah.

They met on the bridge. The troll carried a small wicker basket, from which he handed Snufkin an odd, oblong lump wrapped in a napkin. It radiated warmth into his twitchy paws.

“Baked potato,” Moomintroll explained brightly, brandishing the salt and pepper shakers. “There were some left over from lunch.”

“I see. Thank you, Moomee.” His appetite had once more deserted him, but vagabonds did not turn down an offer of food, especially from friends. He sat down at the edge of the bridge, boots dangling, and unwrapped the top half of the potato. “Are these the ones we helped Moominmamma dig last autumn?”

Moomintroll sat down beside him and unwrapped a tuber of his own. “Yes! Remember that absolutely enormous one Snorkmaiden found—the one as big as Little My?”

“She thought it was a boulder at first. And then Sniff wanted to sell it. Or charge admission to look at it.”

Blue eyes rolled fondly to the heavens. “That’s Sniff for you. He seemed pretty happy while we were eating it, anyway.”

Snufkin chuckled around a mouthful. “Moominmamma is an excellent gardener. And an excellent cook. It’s not every day that you see a whole cauldron of potato soup prepared from just one potato.”

They lapsed into companionable silence. The stream flowed soothingly under their swinging feet. From up by the house came the sound of careful hammering as Moominpappa finished off the shingles on the garden shed. Down below him, Moominmamma held the base of the twice-mended ladder firmly.

At last, potato gone, Snufkin could stall no longer. He licked a bit of salt off his thumb and handed the empty napkin back to Moomintroll, neatly folded. “I suppose I should be on my way.”

His friend’s tail stood up straight in alarm. “You do mean ‘on your way to talk to Snorkmaiden’ and not ‘on your way into the wilderness never to return,’ right?”

Snufkin’s new fur fluffed in contrition. He supposed Moomintroll had a right to ask for that distinction, given his track record. “Just to Snorkmaiden’s. I promise.” Struck with sudden inspiration, he raised a paw. “May my fishing rod snap, may my tent always leak, and forevermore may I only wear brand-new trousers if I should break this oath.”

Moomintroll clutched his stomach with laughter at their childhood system of solemnly swearing on the most sacred of promises, the most secret of secrets. His tail nearly knocked Moominmamma’s potato basket into the stream. “Oh, wow, who’d ever dare break such a practical and terrifying oath?” he laughed, pushing the basket back from the brink of doom. “Okay, I’m convinced. On your way, then. I’ll be here when you get back.”

It took great effort of will to peel himself away from Moomintroll’s side, but Snufkin managed. He set off down the path with a little wave over his shoulder. He desperately hoped that the return trip would be easier.

- // - // - // - // -

In true Snufkin fashion, he took the most roundabout way possible to his destination. A hundred ways to start the conversation were pondered and discarded as he meandered down side trails, walked across fallen logs, and paused to listen to the sounds of nature. Therefore, it was early evening when he finally found himself at the Snork residence.

He stared at the house from a distance for several long minutes. He could see the gracefully rounded figure of Snorkmaiden already outdoors, there for the approaching; a stroke of good (or bad) fortune. As usual, the urge to avoid and disappear was strong, but this time there was too much at stake to give in. The mumrik straightened his hat and forced himself forward.

Snorkmaiden was working in her herb garden. She had ringed the area they had hoed with small wooden pickets tied to one another with lengths of twine and was busy hammering a sign into the damp ground. When she moved out of the way, Snufkin could read what it said: THERE IS A GARDEN HERE, SNORK!!! in large, aggressively orange letters. The freshly turned soil bore deep paw prints, obviously larger than hers.

She was humming a tune, and as he came nearer Snufkin realized with a start that it was “All Small Beasts Should Have Bows in Their Tails.” His paw went into his pocket and closed reflexively around his mouth organ.

Snorkmaiden straightened in surprise when the soft notes of his instrument joined her humming. She whirled around to face him, surprise quickly replaced by unexpected happiness. “Snufkin, hi! Have you talked to Moomintroll since yesterday? Did he find you?”

Snufkin lowered his mouth organ. His tiny claws dug into the metal nervously as he gave a stiff nod. “He did find me, yes. We… spoke.”

“Oh, good.” She clasped her paws, tail waving eagerly. “So, I have to ask: how did it go? Did he convince you to be his paramour? Was it a terribly romantic confession of eternal love and devotion? I hope he didn’t bungle it too badly. Everything happened so quickly I had absolutely no time to coach him on the proper technique—”

Confused anew by her strangely exuberant response to timesharing her boyfriend, all logical word sequences left the mumrik’s head. “I should leave,” he blurted.

“What?!” Snorkmaiden stopped short, fur rapidly turning a pale shade of depressed plum. “Oh no, did Moomintroll really come off that badly? I knew we should have gone over his confession speech at least once.” Her ears pinned backwards in dismay. “Snufkin, listen, you have to give him another chance! He’s quite a romantic creature at heart, really, but it doesn’t always come out properly. Kind of like lightning striking in a tornado, sort of thing.”

Feeling as if he were stuck in some strange dream, Snufkin shook his head in frustration. “No, that’s not—his confession was rather sweet, actually.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” Slowly her color began to fade back to its usual cheerful cream. “Then why on earth would you leave? Don’t you want to be his partner?”

He swallowed hard, finally managing to tuck his mouth organ back into his pocket. “Yes, I do. Very much so. But not if that’s not what you want. I’d rather just go away somewhere altogether than come between the two of you.”

Her honey brown eyes widened slowly. “Please, for the love of pancakes, tell me Moomintroll didn’t forget to tell you that I’m alright with him dating the both of us.”

Snufkin, very aware that his traitorous tail was flipping around behind him like a pennant in a stiff breeze, tried his best to keep calm. “No, no, he did tell me that,” he reassured. “I just wanted to hear it from you first. Before I gave him my answer. Because I don’t understand why it wouldn’t bother you. Sometimes it’s seemed like you were jealous if he even wanted to spend an afternoon alone with me, and now…”

“Oh. Um, yes, I see.” This time it was an embarrassed pink that rippled through her pelt as she adjusted her fringe. “Well. I suppose we’d better talk about it, hadn’t we?”

Talking about feelings was high on Snufkin’s list of things to avoid like a swarm of biting midges, but he offered a reluctant nod. “Yes, I suppose we’d better.”

Snorkmaiden cast about the garden, then beckoned Snufkin to follow as she walked toward the house. His tail frizzed with dread at the thought of being shut behind a door during such a particularly uncomfortable situation, but to his relief she settled on the front step instead. He sat down beside her and looked out over the long stairway up the side of the hill. The Snorks had a surprisingly good view.

“Alright, then. I’m not sure why I didn’t think we’d all need to discuss things a bit more, but—let’s talk.” Snorkmaiden sighed, chin in one paw, elbow propped on her knee. “You’ve always been more mature, Snufkin. Such a good listener. You’re so much more level-headed than I am.”

He hunkered down under his hat at the unexpected praise. “We’re having this conversation, so I’d say you’re quite level-headed yourself.”

“This is a very grown-up conversation, isn’t it?” she asked, brightening a bit. “Makes you feel accomplished, somehow.” She sat up straighter on the step and collected her tail, combing the tuft with her fingers thoughtfully. “Well, to start… I suppose I used to get so jealous when Moomintroll wanted to spend time with you because I got caught up in the idea that romantic love was the most important kind of love there is. I was his girlfriend, so he should give me attention first and most, all the time.” She shook her head with a grimace at her younger self. “It was silly. Suppose I read too many storybooks about heroes and princesses. You can’t ever expect to be the only person that someone loves.”

“Well… we’ve all done silly things, haven’t we? The point of growing older is growing wiser. Learning more about yourself and the world.”

“I guess that’s true.” Snorkmaiden hummed thoughtfully. “You know, it may sound strange, but sometimes I think part of the reason I’ve always been so attached to Moomintroll in the first place is because he was the only one who paid attention to me for a while. The Snork has never been what you’d call a parental sibling; not like your sister Mymble. I know he cares about me, but he’s always been more interested in his work than having a little sister underfoot, and I couldn’t hang on Moominmamma’s apron all the time, so I guess I just latched onto Moomintroll. And then I couldn’t bear the thought of losing his attention once I had it.”

Snufkin nodded. Mumrik kits aside, most little children did need more attention than Snorkmaiden had received when she was small, constantly sent off to amuse herself somewhere else by her distracted brother. “I suppose that does make sense. No one could fault you for that.”

She smiled ruefully. “There, you see? You’re the best listener in this valley, besides maybe Moominmamma. Anyway—it sort of bothered me at first, that Moomintroll so clearly loved you the way he loved me. But he didn’t stop loving me just because he loved you, too. I’d much rather you two be dating as well than force him to choose between us, especially if it made you leave Moominvalley for good. I just can’t stand the thought of you not coming back, really. Of not seeing your tent there by the stream. Who’d keep their head when everyone else is being silly and dramatic? Who’d listen to all our little problems and say something wise to put things in perspective?”

He chuckled weakly. “Oh, I’m sure everyone would make do. If I stopped coming back every spring you all would forget about me in no time.”

“That’s absolute rubbish!”

Snufkin jumped at her almost-shout. When he lifted his head enough to see out from under his hat, Snorkmaiden’s creamy fur had suddenly turned the deep, dusky mauve of offense.

“You,” she told him firmly, “are unforgettable. Don’t you dare think otherwise. If you ever didn’t come back—and I mean really didn’t come back, not just ran a week or two behind schedule—Moomintroll and Little My and I would come looking for you, and we’d drag Sniff along by the tail. We almost did it that one year when we were children, so we can absolutely follow through now.” Slowly her coloration began to fade to a more subdued pink. “So please believe me when I say that this is okay, and don’t leave. I mean, of course you can leave; you can always leave. But leave because you need some time to yourself and not because you think you’re fixing something by going.”

Not at all sure what to say, he simply stared.

“We’re very different from each other, it’s true, but you deserve Moomintroll just as much as I do. I don’t think I could share him with anyone else, but if it’s you, I don’t mind. Especially since it makes you both so happy. I know we haven’t been as close these past few years as we used to be—and I know that’s mostly my own fault—but you’re still one of my very best friends, Snufkin. I want you to be happy.”

Snufkin’s tail lashed behind him. His eyes watered suddenly, nose tingling as he choked back a hard sniffle.

“Oh, dear.” Snorkmaiden’s ears angled back. She bit her lip and tentatively opened her arms. “Um, would you like a—?”

He was hugging her before she could finish, face buried in the fur of her shoulder as he clung tightly. “I’m not crying. It’s just hormones. There are no problems.”

Her arms tightened firmly around him. Soft paws stroked his back soothingly. “Right, right. Absolutely. Silly old seasonal cycles.”

“I never knew Snorks had those, too,” he managed, voice small and muffled by her soft, clean fur. The incredible gift and reassurance she had given him aside, the knowledge that someone else had experienced the same insulting condition and could understand what he was going through was in itself somehow comforting.

“Moomintroll told you, did he?” She snorted, still petting his back. Her paw trailed idly down the row of coat buttons. “Would you believe, neither did I? It was an awful shock when it happened. Moominmamma and Moominpappa basically raised me, and even the Snork was too young to have gotten that kind of talk from our mother before we were on our own, so no one had any idea until, bang, there it was.”

Snufkin hugged tighter in sympathy. “Moomins don’t have seasonal cycles themselves, do they?”

“No, which is why I think Moominmamma didn’t have any reason to suspect that Snorks would, since our species are so similar. When Moomins are ready to pair up and settle down they just go through a really intense nesting phase. One will build a house for their intended partner and then their partner will decorate the house and they’ll move into it together.”

“So when he tried to build a house for the two of you…”

She giggled. “Wasn’t it a nice try, really? He’ll get it in the end. The instinct’s there; he just needs a bit of practice.” She gently released Snufkin and leaned back so they could look at each other once more. “So. How about it? Want to give having a boyfriend a go?”

Snufkin’s tail swept the steps worriedly. “What if it doesn’t work out?” he asked softly. “What if I make a terrible partner?”

“If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. But at least you’ll have tried. And you’ve never been anything but honest with Moomintroll about needing your own space and time to yourself. Being honest with each other is a big thing in a romantic relationship.” Snorkmaiden spoke with the absolute confidence of one who had read every romance novel and self-help book of relationship advice in the Moominvalley public library (which she had). “You’ve been his best friend for years and years. He knows you, and what he’d be getting into by dating you. He’s not going to suddenly start asking for things he already knows you can’t offer, so I’d say you have an excellent chance of being able to make it work.” She smiled teasingly. “And even if you two absolutely stink at romancing and work better as best friends, you’ll still have one another. It’ll just be a different kind of love.”

When she presented the situation in such a fashion, romancing suddenly seemed much less like the chaotic, jumbled whirlwind of mymble fancy he’d always perceived it to be and more like something he might stand a chance of being able to accomplish. “I must say, Snorkmaiden, you are very persuasive on behalf of romance.”

Her ears pricked with tentative hope. “Does that mean…?”

Snufkin let out a deep breath and accepted his fate. “I suppose it means that I’m officially being courted, as it were.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” A wave of warm, happy yellow rippled through her fur as she wiggled on the step. “Moomintroll will be over the moon! Are you going to go tell him right away?”

“Yes, I should.” The setting sun denoted just how long he had left the troll waiting. On impulse, he extended a paw. “Do you want to come along? I swore an incredibly serious oath that I would come speak to you, so a witness that I actually did might not be a bad idea.”

“Aw, well, that sounds lovely. I can’t wait to see Moomintroll’s face!” Snorkmaiden took the offered paw, allowing Snufkin to help her up off the step. Then, instead of releasing him, she squeezed his paw tighter. “Snufkin, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I’d like it very much if you’d let me work on us being better friends again.” She looked down bashfully, scuffing at the steps with the foot that always sported her anklet. “I feel like I’ve been something of a pickle recently, but I’d love it if we could be closer again. Like we were when we were little.”

Snufkin abruptly remembered sunny days collecting seashells and rainy ones making blanket tents under kitchen tables; weaving flower crowns and tying bows in one another’s tails; napping together in soft, warm piles and playing endless games of make-believe.

He smiled so wide he was sure his tiny fangs were showing. “I think I would also like that very, very much.”

- // - // - // - // -

Moomintroll had draped himself over the verandah railing closest to the path that went to the Snorks’ house. Every so often he glanced up, saw no trace of Snufkin’s return, and wilted a little further over the rail. All those years of waiting for the vagabond to come home from his winter travels were nothing compared to this. This wait was absolutely agonizing!

Huh… ‘the sweet agony of love left waiting.’ I wonder if that’s a thing? I bet Snorkmaiden would approve of it. He gave a properly forlorn sigh, with just the right amounts of listlessness and pining.

“Oh, brother. I’d know that sigh anywhere. That’s the ‘my best friend has abandoned me, I shall never be happy again for the rest of my days, woe is me!’ sigh.” Little My’s ginger bun bobbed by in the corner of his vision as she came around the side of Moominhouse and up onto the verandah. “Waiting for Snufkin again?”

Moomintroll hoisted himself upright with a grumble. “If you must know, as a matter of fact I am waiting for Snufkin. He and Snorkmaiden are having a private talk about something important. He said he’d be back to let me know how it went when they were done.”

The tiny mymble’s head co*cked curiously at the mention of private talks, no doubt wishing she had known about such a rendezvous so she could arrange to spy upon it. “Huh. Didn’t know they were being all friendly again.” She climbed onto a chair at the nearby table, jumped for the railing, and swung herself up to sit next to the troll’s elbow. “Speaking of friends—if Sniff doesn’t wake up by this time tomorrow, I’m going over there and biting whatever piece of him is sticking out from under his blanket.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Moomintroll argued. “Why wake him up at the end of the day? He’d just go right back to sleep and you’d have to do it again the next morning.”

“You say that as if I mind biting someone twice.”

They were discussing the pros and cons of Sniff-resurrection when Snorkmaiden and Snufkin came down the path toward Moominhouse paw in paw. Snorkmaiden’s enormous smile was mirrored by the one on Snufkin’s face, more subdued but no less pleased. She said something, too far away to be overheard, which made Snufkin laugh. Moomintroll’s ears began to wiggle with unsuppressed hope.

Little My watched them for a long moment from the porch railing. Her eyes flashed from their joined paws to their smiling faces, then up to Moomintroll with a look of mounting horror. “Good gravy. She’s dumped you for Snufkin!”

Moomintroll shook himself and looked down at her in exasperation. “What?! No she hasn’t!”

She began to back slowly away down the rail, giving him a look of pity mixed with utter terror that was quite out of place on her usually mischievous mug. “You poor, daft creature—you’re too delusional to see it. I’m not qualified to handle that level of emotional devastation.” She scrambled down one of the railing slats and into the house, door banging behind her. “Moominmamma!”

Moomintroll huffed, tail swishing in aggravation as she disappeared. “Oh, honestly.” He shook his head, then directed a much happier look at his approaching sweethearts. “Hi! Hello! You two look quite happy this evening.”

Snufkin tipped his hat with a shy smile.

Snorkmaiden waved with her free paw. “Well, it’s a lovely evening to be happy on, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it certainly is.” The troll fought to maintain his composure, but his feet were determined to shuffle anxiously against the smooth wood of the verandah floor, all but dancing with anticipation. He leaned eagerly over the rail. “Right, so, you talked? And? Do either of you have anything you want to tell me?”

“Oh, Moomintroll,” she giggled. “Patience! You look like a puppy waiting to catch a treat.”

Snufkin chuckled fondly. His warm smile made Moomintroll weak in the knees. “I’d say he’s been incredibly patient, all things considered.”

“I suppose you’re right. In that case…” Snorkmaiden straightened importantly, raising the paw that still held Snufkin’s. “Dearest Moomintroll. Allow me to present: your boyfriend.” She offered the flustered mumrik up with the playful flourish of a court attendant announcing nobility at the royal ball.

Moomintroll didn’t bother with the steps. He was over the verandah rail in an instant with a whoop of joy, grabbing a laughing Snorkmaiden in one arm and a horribly blushing Snufkin in the other. He didn’t think there were words to properly express exactly what he was feeling in that moment, so he didn’t even try, content to let as many nuzzles as he could land on each of them do the talking.

It was just such a scene (a laughing ball of hugging arms and nuzzling snouts and wagging tails) that Moominmamma beheld as she stepped out the door a moment later. She stared at the three of them in surprise. “Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like anyone out here is undergoing ‘emotional evisceration and complete mental collapse.’ That’s nice.”

Snufkin, still blushing, tugged his hat back on straight from where Moomin nuzzles had knocked it askew. “What on earth gave you that idea, Moominmamma?”

She hitched her handbag more comfortably into the crook of her elbow. “Just something Little My said. The poor dear was quite distraught. I wonder what got her so worked up?”

Moomintroll was practically vibrating with happiness and excitement. “Can I tell her? Snufkin, can we tell her, please?”

Snufkin blinked. It was fairly clear that he hadn’t thought as far ahead as informing the parents of their relationship change. After a moment, his cheeks turned even redder and he did the adorable thing where he looked down and was suddenly mostly hidden by his hat, like a mouse under a mushroom. “Well, I don’t see why not. She has to be told eventually.”

“Oh, good! I don’t think I can keep quiet about it.” Squeezing Snufkin in one arm and Snorkmaiden in the other, the troll beamed at his mother. “We’re dating!”

Moominmamma’s ears went straight up in surprise. Then she put a paw to her heart, a warm smile slowly growing across her muzzle. “My goodness! What a nice surprise. I think this is just wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?!” Moomintroll demanded gleefully. “I knew you’d be happy about it, too!” There hadn’t been a doubt in his mind that his parents would give their full support. After all, they both cared for Snufkin just as much as they did Snorkmaiden.

“Of course I’m happy for you. You three have always been the sweetest little trio. I can’t wait to tell your father. And you’ll both stay for dinner, too, of course. Oh goodness, that boring old mushroom and nut loaf won’t do at all—I’ll put together something special for a celebration dessert.” Moominmamma bustled back into the house before any of them could say another word.

Moomintroll nuzzled the vagabond’s shoulder contentedly. “And that’s the formal announcement taken care of with absolutely no trouble at all. See, Snufkin, I told you everything would work out.”

Though undeniably pleased by the contact, Snufkin cleared his throat quietly. “Um… actually, Moomintroll, I think perhaps Moominmamma might not have gotten precisely the right idea about our new arrangement.”

His ears co*cked quizzically. “What to do you mean?”

Snorkmaiden briefly turned pale pink with an embarrassed giggle. “Moomintroll, m’love, you didn’t specifically say that you and Snufkin are dating. I think she thinks that Snufkin and I are also…”

After a quiet moment of startled surprise, Moomintroll laughed sheepishly. “Oh, I guess I really didn’t specify, did I? Sorry, I was just so excited. We’ll set her straight later.” He didn’t think his tail had wagged so much in his entire life. “Anyway, do you two want to sit down? I was trying to enjoy the evening while I waited, but I couldn’t concentrate. It’s going to be a really lovely sunset, I think.”

- // - // - // - // -

They sat down together at the table on the verandah, Moomintroll at one end with Snorkmaiden and Snufkin on either side. For the first time since that morning, Snufkin relaxed completely. Relief from dread coursed through him like a drug. If he had known that all the trials and discomforts of winter would culminate in requited love and a new facet on his relationship with his oldest and dearest friend, he dared think he wouldn’t have grumbled so much.

“Now Moomintroll,” Snorkmaiden said with mock seriousness, “I know you’re going to be spending a lot of time with Snufkin for a while for obvious reasons, but you can’t keep him completely to yourself. I’m reinstating childhood friend claims. We’re going to work on getting closer again, like when we were small.”

“That’s great!” the troll gushed. “It sounds like you two had a really good talk.”

“We did,” Snufkin agreed.

Snorkmaiden nodded. “In retrospect, Moomintroll, you and I probably should have talked a bit more before springing things on Snufkin, but time was of the essence, and the three of us can work things out together from here as they come up. I think there’s really only one thing I’d like to clarify with you that I didn’t before.”

Moomintroll gave her his full attention. “What’s that?”

“You’re only going to be dating me and Snufkin, right? It feels alright somehow if it’s Snufkin, but I’m not sure I’d ever be comfortable sharing you with anybody else.”

“Absolutely nobody else,” Moomintroll affirmed immediately. He leaned over to give the end of her snout a reassuring nuzzle. “I can only hold two paws at once, after all, and there’s no one else in the whole world I’d rather be with.” His ears wiggled impishly. “Not even a wooden queen.”

“Auugh, you horrible boy!” Fur suddenly bright pink, she swatted him away and dropped her face into her paws. “Am I ever going to live that down? We were children, Moomintroll. I think I can be forgiven for being jealous of a silly old wooden figurehead. Honestly! I hope it floated off and rotted somewhere.”

Snufkin made an assortment of alarming noises as he tried valiantly not to laugh. He had all but forgotten about his friend’s fascination with the ship’s figurehead they had found washed up on the beach as youngsters.

“Oh Snorkmaiden, you know you will always be the queen of my heart; the figurehead of my hopes and dreams—”

“Don’t you try to sweet talk me, you marshmallow lump. You just watch yourself or I’ll withdraw my lot from this arrangement. He’ll be all yours, Snufkin, Booble help you.”

The vagabond couldn’t help but notice that, though her arms were crossed firmly and her cheeks puffed out in an impressive pout, her muzzle was twitching as she fought to hold back a smile. He nodded seriously. “A big responsibility indeed.”

Elbows braced on the tabletop, chin in his paws, Moomintroll looked adoringly from one to the other. The setting sun cast his fur with a warm, peachy hue. “You know, the last time I was this happy, there were flying clouds involved.”

Gone rose gold from the sunset and her own happy colors, Snorkmaiden smiled dotingly, pretended annoyance immediately forgotten. “Aww, Moomintroll.”

Snufkin felt a purr bubble up in his chest and didn’t try to suppress it for an instant.

“Blech!” All three jumped in surprise as a chair at the far end of the table creaked. Little My’s narrowed eyes and bun appeared over the table edge. “Just when you think a place can’t get any sappier. Somehow this is even worse than listening to Moomintroll cry for a month.”

“Oh, dear. Do our heartfelt and touching displays of love annoy you?” Far past the point of being surprised that they might be spied on at any given moment, Snorkmaiden fluttered her eyelashes outrageously and leaned over to snuggle against Moomintroll’s shoulder. “What a terrible, yet completely unavoidable, shame.”

“I’ve grown numb to it from these two, but I really did expect better from you, Snufkin. You’re the only other member of our family with a grain of common sense. How could something like this possibly happen?”

Purr unceasing, Snufkin could only shrug sheepishly.

Little My sank out of sight with a groan. “Right, that lovesick smile says it all. You’re past helping now.” The chair skidded as she hopped down. “The parents are being disgustingly sweet in the kitchen, too. I’ll never escape it.”

“You could always go back to Mother’s house,” he suggested.

“It’ll be even worse there when Joxterpappa gets back! It’s the same thing every year. Tch—spring.” She harrumphed back into the house.

“Spring,” Moomintroll agreed with a happy sigh. One arm around Snorkmaiden, he held his free paw out to Snufkin invitingly.

Snufkin took it with a smile. He had always thought that nothing he’d seen on his long travels could quite compare to the beauty of Moominvalley in the springtime. He had a feeling that this spring was going to be the loveliest yet.

Chapter 7: Parental guidance not suggested

Chapter Text

“Look, all I’m saying is that when you start dating an additional creature when someone is hibernating and don’t tell them about it straightaway, it makes them think they’ve woken up in a parallel universe.”

Moomintroll wiggled his feet, stubby white toes popping up out of the mound of sand that covered them. “I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you, Sniff.”

“I do,” Little My yelled from a few meters away where Snorkmaiden was busy shaping a sandy mermaid tail around the smaller girl’s lower half. “Get up when everyone else does and you won’t miss anything, you lazy lump!”

Snufkin smothered a snicker behind his paw. Sniff huffed but didn’t deign to comment, choosing instead to busy his mouth with another slice of the sweet rhubarb pie Moominmamma had sent along on their first beach trip of the season.

The sea ice had long since melted away. Too-Ticky had abandoned the bathhouse. Though it was still too cold to have a proper paddle, the sun high overhead warmed the sand. Herring gulls and other sea birds wheeled and circled in the bright blue sky, their cries complement to the gentle crashing of waves against the shore.

Snufkin sprawled on the toasty sand, utterly content to bask in the sun after the cold of winter and admire the glint of its rays off the water. Next to the stars, the wide and wild sea was his great love. And next to Moomintroll, of course. The mumrik stole a glance at the fluffy white troll beside him. Every once in a while Moomintroll would reach out with one paw, find the tuft of Snufkin’s lazily twitching tail, and stroke it absently, as if to reassure himself that he still could. Snufkin took care to reward each little touch with a smile.

The past week had floated by like a pleasant dream, and the vagabond occasionally felt the need to shake himself to make sure he was indeed still wide awake. Of course he had spent most of it with Moomintroll, adjusting to the nuances of being someone’s boyfriend. It was much like being someone’s best friend, he discovered; just with lots more paw-holding and nose nuzzling and running the constant risk of being cuddled if he stopped moving for more than a few minutes at a time. (Snufkin thought he might eventually have to put a stop to that if his incessant need for bodily contact fizzled out after his seasonal cycle was through, but just now it was exactly what he wanted.)

When he wasn’t with Moomintroll, Snufkin often found himself spending time with Snorkmaiden. Their drifting apart had been gradual, so much so that he hadn’t fully realized how much he actually did miss her company until he had it again. She was able to sit still and relax better than Moomintroll, and better at keeping her voice down in the forest so as not to scare the birds away. Snufkin learned that she had branched out from a reading list made up exclusively of romance novels and was getting quite involved in several works of high fantasy (one of which she immediately loaned to him, along with two volumes of nature poetry). While hanging the towels out to dry one day Moominmamma had seen them alone together under a tree, poring over one of the books, and smiled a secret little smile. Snufkin had wondered if Moomintroll had remembered to tell her that their supposed trio actually wasn’t, but then it had been his turn to read a poem and he had promptly forgotten.

Life was very nearly perfect.

Very nearly… if not for the lingering specter of just what his newfound biology still had in store for him. He could feel it somehow, like thunder on the horizon, growing ever closer. If there was anything that could sour his mood, it was the thought that these rather idyllic days with Moomintroll might soon be brought to a screeching halt by something so sordid as a mating cycle he had no control over. It hadn’t even happened yet and already Snufkin felt guilt.

Knowing that Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden’s relationship involved physical intimacy made him feel slightly better, but he couldn’t shake the vague sense that any such needs of his own would be an imposition on his new boyfriend. Moomintroll was all sunshine and smiles, sweet as the sugar his fur resembled. Surely he would prefer making love with an equally soft and sweet Snorkmaiden over a scruffy, scrawny mumrik who had only basic knowledge of how such things went.

I’m terribly lucky Moomintroll cares for me enough to tolerate such nonsense, he thought as that gentle paw returned to stroke his tail tip. Perhaps there’s some way to make a cycle finish faster, or not be as severe. Then I could deal with it on my own and he wouldn’t have to make such concessions. If only Papa would hurry up and come home so I can ask him…

“Alright, I’m getting bored!” Little My suddenly jumped to her feet. Snorkmaiden’s careful sculpting scattered to the winds as the small mymble shook the sand off her smock. “Let’s go check the sea cave and see if anything interesting has washed in since the ice melted.”

“I should have given you a shark tail instead,” Snorkmaiden grumbled, but she got up just the same and dusted off her fur. “Coming, boys?”

Pie gone, Sniff was more willing to participate. “I’m in. Dibs on anything shiny!”

Moomintroll got up readily as Sniff and Little My took off at a run toward the cave. He extended a paw down to the vagabond still flat on the sand. “Coming, Snuf?”

“If we must, we must,” Snufkin chuckled. He raised both arms in a mute plea for assistance, having been rendered thoroughly limp and lazy by the warm sun. The troll took hold of both his wrists obligingly, and in a moment Snufkin found himself on his feet through almost no effort of his own. He blinked off the sudden vertigo in surprise, one paw steadying his hat. “My goodness, you’ve gotten quite strong.”

Moomintroll laughed. “No offense, but I think you just don’t weigh very much.”

“Oh, no, Moomintroll, he’s quite right.” Snorkmaiden took his arm in her paws, squeezing the muscles playfully through his fur. “So brawny and muscular. Positively alluring.”

“Oh, stop,” he giggled bashfully, snout and ears flushing. “It’s just from helping Pappa fix things and carrying potato baskets for Mamma.”

Snufkin averted his eyes from his best friend’s upper arms, trying to likewise avert his mind from the reminder that Moomintroll could so easily pick him up. Alluring, indeed. He surreptitiously loosened his scarf (the beach certainly had gotten warm that day, hadn’t it?) and fought off the urge to purr as they struck out in pursuit of their more excitable friends, grateful for the distraction they provided.

Ridiculous seasonal cycles.

- // - // - // - // -

Snufkin’s paws sank into the soft fur of Snorkmaiden’s chest. She let out a little coo, long eyelashes fluttering happily as her own paws mapped his bare chest in turn. He shuddered as furry white fingers traced a stiff nipple.

“I always thought mymbles would have more of these,” she hummed, muzzle brushing his cheek.

Larger paws held Snufkin’s hips firmly. Moomintroll’s fur tickled the bare skin of his back as the troll sweetly nuzzled the side of his neck. “He is only half a mymble, after all. All ours, though.”

Snorkmaiden’s paw found one of Snufkin’s, guiding it down her body. He clutched her closer, inner thigh hitching higher up her hip. His hard length rubbed into warm belly fluff as Moomintroll pressed closer behind him. Snufkin’s tail swayed instinctively to the side as something hot and hard prodded beneath it—

A loud snuffle in his ear brought Snufkin awake with a jolt. He lay frozen, flat on his back, staring unseeingly upward as his mind raced to separate dream from reality. After a moment it gained traction and he was able to piece together where he was: in Moomintroll’s bed, staring at the shadowy ceiling of Moomintroll’s bedroom, with the Moomin’s silky nose tucked against his ear as he snored softly. One of his boyfriend’s arms curled snugly around Snufkin’s middle. Just below that arm Snufkin was rock hard, shaft straining inside the confines of his underclothes. Lifting his head gingerly, he could clearly see the miniature tent it was pitching beneath the blanket.

Several deep, shuddery breaths gave him the fortitude to gently extract himself from Moomintroll, who stirred a bit as Snufkin slid out of bed but thankfully did not fully wake. Small favors. He slipped out the door and padded swiftly but silently to the bathroom, grateful that in the hour before dawn there was no one up and about to witness his shame.

It was utterly intolerable. Snufkin may have been a tramp, but he nevertheless considered himself a gentlemumrik. Perhaps he could forgive himself the occasional salacious dream about Moomintroll, now that they were properly dating, but where on earth had such imaginings of Snorkmaiden come from? They were supposed to be strengthening their friendship and now he wouldn’t be able to look the poor girl in the face for a fortnight. Some good friend he was.

Snufkin sank down on the edge of the iron bathtub with a quiet groan. His tail swept its cold, enameled bottom in his distress. This couldn’t go on. Pre-season instinct kept overriding his common sense, leading him up the rope ladder and straight into Moomintroll’s bed night after night. Early morning stiffness had become the norm, but this was as close as he had ever come to coming in his pants—right beside his innocently sleeping boyfriend, no less. Something had to give.

Temptation needled, standing his fur on end. If he went back now and locked the bedroom door, climbed back into bed and gently woke the Moomin up, surely Moomintroll would understand. He had offered to help, and insisted he could bear whatever became necessary. Snufkin wouldn’t even need much; just to be held close for a small while, perhaps a few sweet whispers, a steadily stroking paw. Surely that wouldn’t be too imposing? His toes curled with longing against the soft weave of the bath mat.

With Herculean strength of will, he reached over and turned on the cold water tap.

A while later, ardor (and all the rest of him) thoroughly cooled, Snufkin emerged from the bathroom. Moomintroll’s bed was empty. The vagabond dressed properly and slunk down the stairs to the kitchen, where his suspicions were confirmed: Moomintroll was making toast. Coffee brewed quietly on the counter near at paw.

The troll looked up as Snufkin shuffled by and into the dining room. “Good morning. Want some coffee?”

Snufkin slid into a seat at the table. He dropped his hat onto the tablecloth and his head onto his folded arms. “Yes, please.”

A gently steaming cup was laid before him. Moomintroll reached out to affectionately pat his boyfriend’s messy hair. His paw stilled in surprise. “Snufkin, you’re half frozen!” Fuzzy white ears drooped. “Another hard morning?”

Snufkin pulled his coffee closer with a mumble of embarrassed affirmation at the other’s choice of adjectives.

Moomintroll’s paw slipped from his hair to his upper arm and began to stroke, either in sympathy or an attempt to rub some warmth into him. “That’s been happening a lot lately…”

“Mrrrph.” The mumrik leaned into the contact but kept his eyes studiously on his drink. “It’s getting more difficult to ignore,” he admitted quietly. “I’m afraid things are going to come to a head soon whether I care for it or not.”

A second paw descended to his other arm and began to pet softly in tandem with the first. “You know that you can ask me for anything you need, at any time, right?” he asked gently.

Snufkin turned sideways in the chair and let himself slump forward, red face disappearing into the soft, snowy expanse of his boyfriend’s upper tummy. “You’re far too kind to me.”

Moomintroll laughed. “Last I knew, you’re supposed to be kind to the creatures you love.” He leaned down to nuzzle the top of Snufkin’s head. “I mean it—don’t be afraid to say when you need something. I like being able to give you things and do things for you, you know. You’re not a bother.”

Knowing that the Moomin would certainly find it a bother if he asked to be tossed onto the dining table and given what for, Snufkin only murmured a muffled assent into thick fur and concentrated on enjoying the affectionate (and very innocent) touches. Luckily, the front door banged open before he could be expected to articulate a better response.

“Oh.” Moomintroll’s ears flicked curiously as small stomps heralded a tiny visitor. “Morning, Little My. You’re here early today.” The sun was barely rising. “Coffee?”

Looking quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed enough without any, she hopped up onto the chair opposite them. “Probably. But first I have something important to tell my baby brother, so quit smothering him in your fluff and let him pay attention.”

Snufkin finally raised his head, hoping his blush had receded. “Good morning, Little My. What do I need to know about so early?”

“Well, you see, last night just before bedtime the scruffiest character I’ve ever laid eyes on came strolling up to Mother’s house…”

The coffee cup rattled in its saucer as Snufkin jumped to his feet, accidentally hip-checking the table in his excitement. “Papa’s home!”

“That’s another way of putting it.” Little My eyed his waving tail with amusem*nt. “I figured you’d want to know as soon as possible. You’re such a daddy’s boy.”

Grinning, he didn’t even try to slow the wag. “Oh, do shut up.”

“You’re welcome.” She blew a congenial raspberry at him and disappeared from the chair.

Hope and relief now buoyed Snufkin’s bleak mood. Snatching his hat off the table, he turned to his boyfriend. “Moomee, I’m off. I’ll try to be back soon.”

Moomintroll, who knew exactly why Snufkin was extra eager to see the older mumrik this spring, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, alright. Good luck! Tell him I said hello.”

“Where’s this coffee you promised me?” Little My’s voice suddenly carried from the kitchen. “Oooh, unattended toast. Don’t mind if I do.”

The troll’s tail tuft expanded in alarm. “Hey, no, that’s mine! Get your own!”

Snufkin chuckled helplessly as Moomintroll vanished around the corner to rescue his toast. Sudden creaking from the ceiling, almost lost amid the argument in the kitchen, gave warning that at least one of the Moominparents was awake and moving. Snufkin tugged his hat on and slipped out the front door before Moominmamma could appear and delay him with a well-meaning breakfast. Just when the situation had begun to seem dire, the possible solution to his troubles had appeared and he could not afford to wait even an hour. He hurried off down the path, hardly able to believe his good luck.

- // - // - // - // -

Of all the rotten luck! Snufkin kicked moodily at little hillocks of grass and dandelion as he crossed a stretch of misty pastureland. How could he possibly have wandered off already? He’s not even been back for a day!

He felt justified in believing that the morning had spiraled out of control.

Snufkin had gone straight to the Mymble’s house, only to be informed that the Joxter was already out. Snufkin took this as a personal insult from the universe; his father was a notorious layabout and by all rights should have made it a point to still be snoozing. Adding injury to insult, neither his mother nor any of the siblings could tell him where the Joxter had gone. He had wanted to go searching immediately, but the Mymble had implored him to stay “only for a few minutes, darling” and help with breakfast duty. The children had been up far past bedtime in the general excitement of Joxterpappa’s return and as a result were quite grumpy and uncooperative at the breakfast table. Snufkin escaped nearly an hour later with egg on his hat and a new juice stain on his scarf that he hoped Moominmamma’s skill could remove.

Doing his best to rein in his irritation, Snufkin found the Joxter’s trail without too much trouble and struck out in pursuit. The longer he walked, the morning sun creeping higher to burn off the lingering mist, the surer he was about where his father was heading.

It was quite wild, as orchards went, mostly un-mowed and unruly. Metal gate hinges had rusted beyond repair and never been replaced, leaving a yawning hole in a split rail fence overgrown with wild morning glories and blackberry brambles. Moominmamma, who knew most of the gardeners and farmers in the valley in one way or another, said that the family chose to leave the gate down to encourage other creatures to come in and pick whatever they could eat come harvest time. The Joxter (and therefore Snufkin) liked the spot particularly because of this. It was one of his favorite napping places when the constant ruckus and riot of the Mymble’s home became a little too much to bear.

The plum and apple trees were in full flower. Bees droned busily among the sunlit blossoms as Snufkin passed through the derelict gates. He looked around the nearest trees. The orchard appeared deserted. He opened his mouth to call out, then thought better of it. Best not to disturb the sounds of nature on such a beautiful morning. Instead, he dropped down beneath the spreading branches of a stately old apple tree and pulled his hat off with a sigh.

Now that the moment he had been waiting for so anxiously was at paw, he wondered if he ought not to think a bit more about what to say. ‘Please tell me how to not chase my dearest friend and new partner away with my raging libido’ did not seem the best way to open a conversation. As he pondered, beginning to worry, the blossoms rustled softly.

A soft, floppy something landed on his head. Snufkin snatched it off in surprise, but the scent alone had told him immediately what it was: a big, wide-brimmed red hat. He jerked his head back, looking up into the tree.

A mischievous, whiskery face grinned down from the branches.

“Papa!” Snufkin jumped to his feet, happiness and fond annoyance playing ping-pong in his chest. The red hat fell to the grass beside his own green one.

“Morning, son. You’re later than I thought you’d be. I managed a nice little nap, though.” The Joxter eeled down from the tree with the odd grace inherent to mumriks. A flurry of flower petals accompanied his descent.

Snufkin snorted, stepping back to give his father room to come to earth. “I’d have been here sooner, but the horde held me hostage with breakfast projectiles.”

“Dear little beasts. Better you than me.” The Joxter landed softly on his feet and brushed a few clinging petals off his coat and tail. “Now then—I don’t care how big you’ve gotten, come here and give your dear old dad a hug.”

He opened his arms in invitation and Snufkin all but pounced. The Joxter rocked back with an ‘oof!’ of surprise as Snufkin collided with his chest, burying his face in the older mumrik’s collar and purring like thunder.

“Well, I can’t remember the last time you were this happy to see me!” The Joxter laughed, hugging him tightly. “I missed you too, son. Happy spring.”

More purrs were the only response Snufkin could manage as he basked in a presence that had always meant happiness, warmth, safety, and affection. (It was just possible that Little My was right; he was a bit of a daddy’s boy.) The Mymble loved all her children, and the Joxter loved all her children, but the bond that Joxter and Snufkin shared was something his mother and his many siblings had never really been able to comprehend.

“That’s a fine rumble you’ve acquired, there.” The Joxter gently bumped their foreheads together, an affectionate mumrik gesture that was just between them. He had tried for a while with the other children, but nearly all of them (and especially Little My) had taken it as an open invitation to bash heads like mountain goats and the Joxter had wisely let it go before concussions were had.

Finally Snufkin managed to peel himself away enough to return the soft bonk. “How were your winter travels?”

“Much more pleasant than yours, it sounds like. Mym told me you had a pretty rough go of it.” His paw found Snufkin’s hair and ruffled it sympathetically as his eyes roamed over his son’s visible tail and newly furred spots. “You were always too wild to be as much of a mymble as you looked. I should’ve known the moment I first saw your eyes shine in the dark.”

Snufkin shrugged ruefully. “There was no way to guess something this extreme would happen. I’m just glad you’re back. I need some advice. Fairly urgently.”

“I guessed as much. You’re grown and your business is your business, but when your mother said you’d chosen Moominkit for a partner I got a little concerned. Never thought he’d call it off with his Snork maiden. Not that it’s any of my affair, but is everything alright?”

“Oh. Yes it is, actually.” Snufkin was rather touched. As a rule, the Joxter didn’t make it a point to worry about much. “He’s not broken anything off with her; he’s just seeing both of us now. Moomintroll spoke with Snorkmaiden, then he spoke with me, then I spoke with Snorkmaiden myself, and then we all three sat down together and talked. I think we’ve figured it all out.”

“Have you, now?” His father’s tail made a little curlicue of pleased surprise, perhaps at the fact that Snufkin had managed not to destroy the peace of Moominvalley’s younger generation with accidental homewrecking. “I’m proud of you all, then. Some creatures are made for it, some aren’t. Like fillyjonks. Very sad and unreasonable lives they lead, fillyjonks. Don’t even get me started on hemulens.”

Snufkin allowed himself to smile. “Actually, Snorkmaiden and Moomintroll both said they took example from you and Mother. If you can love one another as much as you do and not let jealousy disturb that, they decided we could, too.”

“Ha!” The Joxter barked a delighted laugh. “You mean we were good examples for once? I can’t wait to tell Moominpappa.”

“You mean you can’t wait to rub his snout in it,” Snufkin accused with a knowing look.

His father offered a toothy grin. “Isn’t that what I said?” Concern having apparently evaporated, he suddenly flopped down into the cool grass beside his hat, the very picture of relaxation. “So, not-so-little kit, it sounds like everything is sunshine and roses in Moominvalley. What did you need my advice about?”

“Well…” There was really nothing for it. Snufkin sat down beside his father, gently shooing a curious bumblebee away from his hat before pulling it into his lap to fiddle with. “Apparently all this extra fur also comes with a seasonal cycle…?”

“Ah, yes. That. I suppose I really should have mentioned that to you a few years ago, but you just kept looking like a mymble and I forgot.”

Snufkin’s tail twitched in irritation. “And this happens to you every year? How have I never noticed?”

“You were probably too small to remember, and then you were too busy climbing trees and stalking crayfish and running wild all over the valley with Moominkit and Muddler’s boy. Little beasts don’t tend to take much notice of mushy adult things.”

That at least made sense. Snufkin, Little My and Mymble Jr. all took care to take as little notice of their mother’s love life as possible, so it was no wonder an exceptionally affectionate week or two from the Joxter fell through the cracks of his recollection.

“It does tend to taper off a bit and not hit so strongly as you get older, so that might have helped it not be so obvious these past few years,” the Joxter mused, staring up at the swaying apple branches. “That first season is a doozy, though.” Something of Snufkin’s stress and worry must have shown on his face, for the older mumrik rolled over and propped himself on his elbows to give his son’s flicking tail tuft a conciliatory pat. “Don’t worry about it, kit. You’ve already found a good partner, and that’s the finicky part. Just enjoy the rest. I take it you’re still at the ‘fuzzy, purring barnacle’ stage?”

Fuzzy, purring barnacle. Snufkin guessed that was as good a way as any to sum up how clingy-slash-affectionate he had been recently. “Yes. But I think what happens next will be happening soon. My body has never betrayed me so often before.” He scowled down at the hat in his lap. “Is there a way to stop it from coming? Or make it less noticeable? Or make it shorter?”

The Joxter blinked in surprise, a long blade of orchard grass bobbing from the corner of his mouth. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Because Moomintroll and I just became partners. I want us to be able to take our relationship at the pace we want to, not be shoved into… things… because I can’t control myself.”

“Hmm. Okay. That’s understandable. But I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a way to avoid it, short of locking yourself up somewhere and sitting on a block of ice until it passes. Now, if you wanted to make it last longer, there are herbs that—”

Snufkin shook his head rapidly, making firm negative motions with his paws. “Pass.”

“I figured. Sorry I can’t give you a better answer than that. Hormones and instincts are pretty powerful things.” The Joxter’s tail, much fluffier than Snufkin’s, waved soothingly to and fro, siphoning falling flower petals from the breeze. “Try to look on the bright side. You’ll be with Moominkit, even if it’s not exactly how you pictured things. Better that than with some creature you’ve never seen before because your instincts are driving you out of your mind, right?”

Just the thought of accosting some random stranger in a moment of hormonal madness made Snufkin want to crawl under a rock. He couldn’t imagine even purring in front of someone he didn’t know, let alone anything more intimate than that. He sighed deeply, knowing that his father was right. “Yes, that is true. And I’m thankful for it. But now what do I do?”

“Do? Well, just do whatever you normally do with someone when you’re tucked away in a romantic little love nest. Just more intensely.”

Snufkin scrubbed at his face in frustration. “Papa, I’ve never done that before. That’s the problem.”

The Joxter stared at him for so long that Snufkin began to fear that he had broken him. “Well… you’re definitely no mymble,” he allowed finally.

Snufkin growled in embarrassment, tail rapidly swatting the grass beside them.

“That wasn’t meant to be an insult!” the Joxter placated quickly. “Being half mymble, I just figured you would’ve blossomed and gotten curious a bit sooner, is all. If it makes you feel any better at all, I didn’t spare any thought for romance either before the old biological clock yanked my tail.”

Snufkin huffed. “You don’t spare much thought for most things.”

“Goodness. I forgot how tetchy that first cycle makes a young mumrik.” Completely unoffended blue eyes fixed on him, considering. “You do at least know about the birds and the bees, right? The facts of life? Did we ever have that talk?”

“Papa, I literally live in nature,” Snufkin deadpanned. “I know how small creatures are made.”

“Oh, good. Glad we’re not starting from square one. I don’t think I could handle such a delicate conversation so early in the day.” The Joxter yawned, displaying slightly larger canines than Snufkin’s own. “Anyhow—the good news is that such skills are largely intuitive. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a tenth as many mymbles in the world. Throw a creature overboard and they’ll learn to swim in a hurry, as old Hodgkins used to say.”

Snufkin, who did indeed feel as if he were being thrown overboard, resigned himself to looking absolutely stupid in front of Moomintroll when the time finally came. It was a feeling he didn’t care for in the least. He would probably trip over his trousers, or make strange faces, or look funny without his clothes on, or—

The Joxter’s voice cut into his gloomy musings. “I suppose I should mention, though; you should be prepared to lose yourself a bit. The middle of a seasonal heat is half like being wine-drunk and half like smoking catmint.”

Now that sounded a little foreboding. “What do you mean?” Snufkin asked cautiously.

“I mean, you shouldn’t be surprised if you become overwhelmed and get a little demanding.”

Snufkin sputtered, aghast. “I’m not going to demand things of Moomintroll! That’s terrible. He’s my boyfriend. If I need something I’ll ask him. Politely.”

“Of course you would ask politely under normal circ*mstances, but that’s where the losing yourself bit comes in. Common sense goes right out the window. I know it might be hard to imagine when you’ve never experienced it before, but you’re going to feel needs like you never have in your life. Don’t be surprised if you get a bit scratchy and bitey when things heat up. Or if your mouth runs away with you and you start yowling and swearing.”

Snufkin drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his tail around them, eyes widening like Moominmamma’s good saucers in his horror. “No.”

His father bit his lip, looking suspiciously as if he was trying not to laugh. “Look, Snufkin, I know how you feel about cursing, but try not to be upset with yourself if it happens. I’m sure Moominkit won’t hold it against you.”

No, he wouldn’t. Moomintroll would be willing to overlook all of Snufkin’s shortcomings. He was just that good of a creature. That didn’t make the vagabond feel any better about what it seemed he had no choice but to subject the poor troll to.

“Come to think of it,” the Joxter carried on obliviously, plucking another piece of grass to chew, “you’re quite fortunate your first partner is a Moomin. They’re really much heartier than they look, despite being so soft and gentle and all. And if you decide you fancy a turn below deck, they can give as well as they get.”

Snufkin stared, half mortified and wholly suspicious. “How do you know that?”

The Joxter stared back, eyes wide and innocent as if he had never had a single thought in his entire life, let alone an impure one. “Actually, either way, you should get ahold of some lubricant. Cooking oil works fine. I’m sure Moominmamma would give you—”

Snatching up his hat, Snufkin leapt to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Wait, hang on!” Faster than anyone so regularly lazy had a right to be, the older mumrik was on his feet and bounding lightly after his fleeing son. “I’m trying to give you practical parental advice.”

“I changed my mind—I don’t want it!”

“Sure you do. I bet you don’t even know three positions.”

Snufkin broke into a run. “Don’t follow me!”

“Oh, come on now, I thought you missed me!”

As he fled the orchard, dodging mole holes and angry bees with his highly amused father easily keeping pace, Snufkin wondered despairingly when he had so thoroughly lost control of his life.

Chapter 8: Daydreams and Mymble-kisses

Chapter Text

Moomintroll was waiting by the stream when Snufkin finally returned that afternoon.

“Well?” the troll asked anxiously, springing up from the log he’d been waiting on as Snufkin walked slowly out of the trees. “What did Joxter say? What’s going to happen? What do you need me to do?”

“Tie a rock around my middle,” Snufkin told him solemnly, looking very ill indeed, “and drop me off the bridge.”

“Oh dear.” Moomintroll’s ears flattened with worry.

“I’m going to die, Moomee,” Snufkin whined, pulling his hat down to cover his desperately blushing face. “I can’t do this. I’ll just lie down and die of shame.”

He would never be able to look his boyfriend in the eye again if he lost himself to the heat of his seasonal cycle and did even half the things the Joxter had insinuated could happen. (Mumriks, if it could be believed, could be every bit as sensual as mymbles when the seasonal urges took them.) Snufkin suspected bitterly that his father had taken some sort of evil glee from his offspring’s abject horror over what he had described. There was clearly absolutely nothing funny about the situation!

Snufkin sought the sanctuary of his tent.

“Oh, come on, Snufkin. Surely it can’t be that bad.” Moomintroll followed, only to hesitate at the softly swaying flaps. “Um, since you didn’t zip up, does that mean I don’t have to knock?”

Snufkin groaned unintelligibly and beckoned vaguely over his shoulder.

“Right. Thanks.” Moomintroll ducked inside, politely zipping the door against early midges and mosquitoes.

The interior of the tent was dim, green, and comforting. Snufkin flopped limply onto his bedroll face down, hat landing beside him. Even here, in his safe place, his mind kept racing back to his father’s words.

Moomintroll padded closer on paws and knees and settled respectfully just out of touching range. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Moomintroll nodded gravely, completely in agreement. “But we should talk about it?”

Snufkin heaved a deep sigh that was muffled by the fabric of his bedroll, as he still refused to show his face. “… yes.”

“So, let’s start with the bad news and get that out of the way,” the Moomin suggested hopefully. “What’s the very worst that could happen?”

Tiny claws sank into the bedroll as Snufkin tensed reflexively. Oh, this was humiliating. “He said... mumriks lose their common sense when the heat hits them.” His tail flipped peevishly. “Not that Papa has much of that to begin with, sometimes.”

Moomintroll giggled sympathetically. “Mine doesn’t either. No wonder they’re best friends. Thank Booble for Mamma.”

The soft chuckle was weak in Snufkin’s throat. He swallowed hard and continued. “They lose common sense, and they lose self-restraint. If my mumrik blood takes over, I might not be able to stop myself from doing things I would never do normally. I could get rough. I might scratch. I might bite.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the final mortifying admission. “I might... use bad language.”

Beside him, Moomintroll made a noise that garbled together a snort, a laugh, and a cough.

“Moomintroll, this is serious!” Snufkin groaned, finally turning his red face out of the bedroll to fix his boyfriend with a disapproving frown.

Moomintroll was looking down at him, lower lip pinched between his teeth. The look on his face, the open tenderness in his eyes, blue as a clear spring sky, hit Snufkin like a physical blow to the chest. If it was possible, his face grew even redder.

“Hey, I know. I know this is serious,” Moomintroll soothed. “May I pet you?”

As there hadn’t been a moment since he returned to the valley that he didn’t actively desire the other’s touch, Snufkin nodded tentatively. Moomintroll inched forward until he could reach out and place a careful paw on Snufkin’s back. It began to trail up and down his spine in long, gently reassuring strokes. Snufkin’s tail stopped its restless flipping and settled into a much calmer swish, back and forth across the cool canvas of the tent floor.

“Snuf, I know this is embarrassing for you. But please believe me when I say this, as your boyfriend and as your best friend: I love you. I love you so, so much. There’s not a thing you could do, or say, that would make me love you any less. Please don’t ever worry about that.”

The heat of his blush burned across his face, up his ears, down his neck and even over his collarbones. Snufkin had the distinct feeling that he was being adored. Rather than send him running for the hills, however, the feeling only made him want to burrow into Moomintroll’s arms and never come out. His mouth was suddenly far too dry.

“I promise, if you use bad language we’ll never bring it up again. I won’t tell anybody, ever. I won’t even wash your mouth out with soap. Alright?”

That fond, teasing smile made Snufkin’s joints go weak. Good job he was already lying down. “I’m going to be totally shameless, Moomee,” he whispered helplessly. “Completely indecent.”

“As indecent as all the torrid fantasies I’ve had that happen right here in this very tent? Because I can’t tell you how many of those I’ve had over the past few years. Way too many, Snufkin!”

Snufkin let out a strangled little meep. He rolled in a panic and grabbed for his hat, pulling it over his face in a desperate bid to hide his raging blush. “Moomintroll, you can’t just say things like that!” he laughed disbelievingly.

“Well, why can’t I?” the Moomin countered, stubborn despite a blush of his own washing the bridge of his snout and the insides of his ears. “We’ll be indecent together. Because I love cool Snufkin, and I love cuddly purr-monster Snufkin, and I can already tell I’m going to love shameless, indecent,” he gulped but soldiered on, “passionate Snufkin just as much.”

Passionate. From the familiar, soothing darkness inside his hat, Snufkin caught the word and rolled it about curiously inside his head. Passionate. Now that sounded more like something Moomintroll deserved in a partner. Was that something that he could be?

One paw still clutching his hat firmly over his face, he reached out entreatingly with the other. “Mrrrph. Just… come here and hold me a moment. Please.”

Moomintroll heeded his little grabby motions immediately, stretching out beside the bedroll and bundling the mumrik into his arms. “Of course. Any time you like. All you have to do is ask.”

Snufkin gladly rolled into his larger friend’s embrace, though he did not relinquish the hold on his hat. Almost at once a quiet purr rumbled up in his chest. “You really are a splendid Moomin.”

“And you’re a splendid Snufkin.” Moomintroll sighed happily and nuzzled the bit of Snufkin’s hair not hidden by his hat. They lay in companionable silence for several long, calming moments before he giggled sheepishly. “Oh, gosh. I can’t believe I just told you that. About my… daydreams about your tent. Before this spring I swore I’d take that to the grave.”

Snufkin’s unsteady smile was lost inside his hat. “Oh?”

“Well, I just never thought you’d ever feel the same, and it’s definitely not something you tell someone who doesn’t also fancy you that way. And I certainly wasn’t going to tell Snorkmaiden. Though she probably guessed after a while.”

A tiny swell of bravery gave Snufkin the fortitude to peek out from under the hat. White fur took up his whole field of vision, but that was just as well. He wasn’t sure he was up to looking his boyfriend in the face just yet. “Is that the only one?”

“What?”

“These daydreams of yours.” Snufkin tried to sound cool and aloof, perhaps a bit teasing, but wasn’t sure he quite managed. “Does my tent star in all of them, or are there others?”

Moomintroll shifted a bit uneasily. “If I’m being honest, there are lots of others.”

Something prodded Snufkin to pry. “Such as?” he asked softly.

“Do you promise not to be angry if I tell you?”

“I swear I won’t be,” Snufkin promised.

Perhaps it was because he wanted to reassure Snufkin that he could also be properly indecent when necessary. Perhaps it stemmed from a childhood spent telling Snufkin, his very best friend, all of the secrets he would never dream of telling to anyone else. Regardless, Moomintroll was silent for only a moment before he began to speak, quietly but clearly. “Well. There are the ones that start with an early cold snap, and your tent isn’t made for the winter, so you have to sleep inside until the snow blows over and it’s safe for you to leave the valley. It’s cold in the house too, and you don’t have a winter pelt like I do, so we curl up in my bed together under the blankets, very close…”

Very close like they were currently, Snufkin realized. The blush that had been receding ever so slowly rushed back with a vengeance. He tucked his head further under Moomintroll’s chin. His hat fell off. “That sounds… cozy,” he breathed.

“Terribly cozy,” Moomintroll agreed. Very gently, he moved the hat aside and tucked his arm back around the vagabond curled against his chest. “One thing leads to another and… well, we keep each other very warm.”

At this rate Snufkin’s face, at least, would be warm for the rest of his life. “What else?” he whispered.

“There are the ones where we’ve gone on an adventure, just the two of us. We’re in the mountains, or by the sea, and a huge storm blows up out of nowhere, so we have to find shelter in a cave. We’re drenched to the skin. I can shake myself dry, but your clothes are soaked through. You’re shivering, so we start a fire, and you take your clothes off so you don’t catch a chill. I… help you with that.”

Snufkin instantly imagined Moomintroll standing close behind him, their shadows cast in firelight. Large paws carefully undoing the tiny buttons down the back of his coat. Warm breath against the exposed skin at the nape of his neck, cool without the protection of his scarf. The tender brush of a velvety snout over the newly bared skin of a shoulder blade. He shivered all over, skin prickling at phantom sensations. “What else?”

“I’m helping you tear down signs.” Moomintroll’s voice was steadier now, but also lower, huskier. His breath stirred the hair on the top of Snufkin’s head. “The park keeper catches us and you hold my paw as we run away through the forest. When we’re finally sure we’ve escaped, we’re so happy and out of breath that we tumble down laughing. You tell me how brave I was to help you, and put your arms around my neck. Sometimes we make love right there in the ferns, but sometimes I hoist you up against a tree—”

Snufkin bit his lip against the strangled little sound that bubbled up at the thought of strong paws wrapped around his thighs, holding him firmly against a tree’s rough bark. His hips twitched, fingers curling deeper into Moomintroll’s fur as realization rippled through him, dazzling in its obviousness: Moomintroll thought of him as a lover would. He apparently entertained such thoughts extensively. And he’d had those thoughts entirely of his own volition, long before the specter of Snufkin’s wretched seasonal cycle had reared its head.

Snufkin wasn’t an imposition. He was desired. A spark of something hot, exhilarating, and terrifying fanned to life behind his ribs.

“You promise you’re not angry?” Moomintroll asked worriedly. “I can stop talking if—”

“I’m not angry, Moomintroll. I’m…” Snufkin shifted a bit helplessly. “Mphm. I’m not sure how to say what I am. How to say it delicately.”

Moomintroll’s next breath hitched in a quiet gasp. Snufkin, forehead pressed to the hollow of his throat, felt his hard swallow. An incredibly gentle paw shifted slowly across Snufkin’s back, settling cautiously just above the base of his tail. “Are you maybe, perhaps… a little excited?”

All the fur on his tail and arms stood up in anticipation. Snufkin shuddered, pressing his face more firmly into the Moomin’s collarbone. “I think that may indeed be what I am, actually.” He took a deep breath and began to speak quickly before he had the chance to stop himself. “I’ve also had daydreams. And real dreams. About you. Us. Together.”

“Really?” Moomintroll asked disbelievingly.

Snufkin nodded, still hiding his face in that soft white fur. “I tried not to. I felt so guilty about it, because you were already promised to someone,” he confessed softly. “But sometimes I couldn’t help it, and even if I could keep my mind off it during the day, I’d still dream about it at night. I’d write it all down in my notebook and burn that page in my next campfire. Try to make like it never happened.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” He could clearly hear the pout in Moomintroll’s voice. “I wanted to read it. Can you tell me some of them, at least?”

“Mrrrm…”

“Come on now, let’s have it,” the Moomin teased gently. “I’ve told you lots of mine. Fair’s fair.” His paw moved to Snufkin’s side and flexed there, playfully threatening. “Don’t force me to use drastic measures.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me, you great marshmallow bully,” Snufkin squawked, already laughing through his blush. He wriggled defensively, curling up as tightly as the limited space would allow. “Alright, I’ll tell. May it be known that I did so only under coercion and threat of torture.”

An unrepentant nuzzle was applied to his forehead. “Yes, of course. Do go on.”

Snufkin took an unsteady breath, reminded himself that fair was indeed fair, and began in a whisper. “Many times I’ve imagined that you couldn’t fall asleep for the winter after I left, or you woke up early, and couldn’t wait until spring to see me. So you follow me and find me.” It didn’t matter how dangerous such a journey in the middle of winter would be in reality; this was fantasy, and the laws of nature had no bearing there. “I’ve set up camp in some far, lonely place and somehow, suddenly, there you are. You tell me that you love me. You hold me, just like this.”

These soft sorts of fantasies often cropped up on the wettest, most miserable nights when even the most seasoned travelers couldn’t keep a fire alive, or after Snufkin had been chased off from somewhere wanderers weren’t welcome, or when particularly unkind words (and occasionally more tangible objects) hurled at an unwanted vagabond stung just a bit too much. Knowing so would only make Moomintroll sad, however, so that particular detail was omitted.

“Oh, Snuf.” Moomintroll’s arms tightened around him. Another tender nuzzle graced his hairline. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve wanted to do just that.”

Snufkin’s insides warmed and tingled as if he’d downed an entire pot of Moominpappa’s strong, hot coffee spiked with brandy. He took several grounding breaths and continued. “Then you spend all night showing me just how fond you are of me.”

“In your tent, no doubt,” Moomintroll guessed. His voice had gone a bit strained. There was a distinctive thwap as his restless tail met the canvas wall. “I feel validated.”

“Yes,” Snufkin chuckled, rubbing his red face affectionately back and forth in the soft fur of his boyfriend’s neck, “in my tent.” Every quickening breath threatened to bubble out in a purr. Perhaps being excited wasn’t all bad, if he wasn’t the only one who was. “I suppose I shouldn’t tease you any more about it.”

“How good of you.” One of Moomintroll’s paws held Snufkin’s hip lightly, thumb rubbing gentle circles against his hipbone. His other paw, attached to the arm Snufkin was lying on, remained curled over his lower back, just above his tail. “Can you tell me more?”

“I’ve imagined that we’re out on one of our midnight swims, or at the beach alone, or we’ve hiked up to the hot spring in secret. You keep looking at me strangely while we swim, and finally when I ask you why you say that you’ve always wondered what my skin feels like, rather than fur.”

“Can’t say that I haven’t been curious a time or two hundred.” The troll’s chuckle was strained. The paw that lingered on Snufkin’s lower back stroked slowly, rhythmically, as if he’d forgotten he was doing so.

Snufkin shivered. He resisted the sudden urge to squirm, to test if that paw could be coaxed into moving lower. “I wouldn’t allow anyone else, but you’re not just anyone,” he murmured. “So I let you touch me. As much as you like. Wherever you like.”

Perhaps someday he would be bold enough to tell Moomintroll how often such fancies had led to him trailing his own (then still furless) paws over his body in secret, trying to imagine how it would feel if they were his best friend’s fuzzy ones instead. How often such times had ended with him arching desperately into his own grip and then burying himself in his bedroll afterwards, guilty and determined to avoid water in company with Moomintroll for at least a week.

“As much as I like?” A breathy sigh caressed Snufkin’s forehead. “You know, it has been months since we’ve been swimming. The hot spring would feel awfully nice this early in the season.” The statement dripped less-than-subtle hopefulness.

“Mmm, no doubt.” Snufkin finally permitted himself to purr at the thought. His fingers sifted through Moomintroll’s chest fur of their own accord. “I must admit it’s strange to think that suddenly we’re free to make some of these imaginings a reality,” he realized, thinking aloud. “It still doesn’t seem completely real.”

“It doesn’t, does it?” Moomintroll laughed. “I’m still adjusting to just being able to hug you this much. It’s like the best dream ever and I refuse to wake up.”

Another loving nuzzle to the top of his head made Snufkin smile foolishly. Feeling giddy and reckless, he leaned up to whisper into his boyfriend’s tiny, twitching ear. “Once I dreamt that you were… having me… over the rail of our bridge.”

Moomintroll tensed against him with a shocked sound. Snufkin feared for a moment that he’d gone too far, been too indecent, when the troll lifted his head with a look of utter determination. “That’s doable. We’d have to be very quiet, and wait for the night of the new moon, and probably two hours before dawn to be sure that everyone’s asleep, but—”

“We are not attempting that! Not all fantasies are meant to come true,” Snufkin laughed, covering his eyes with one paw at the very idea. It felt good to laugh. The tension he had carried all morning had melted magically away under Moomintroll’s warm nuzzles and reassurances. He could finally, tentatively, hope that everything would turn out right. He peeked between his fingers, offering his boyfriend a small, teasing smile. “But I think we can at least manage a tryst in my tent, since we both seem to enjoy that idea so much.”

Moomintroll tipped his head at that, looking down at Snufkin with wide blue eyes. “Is it terrible of me to say that I’m going to enjoy your cycle?” he asked in an awed whisper.

“No. Not at all.” Now that he’d found it, the wobbly smile refused to leave Snufkin’s face. He lifted a paw to stroke his friend’s cheek. “This conversation has been quite… enlightening. I’m beginning to think I’m going to enjoy it myself.”

“Oh, thank the Booble,” Moomintroll groaned. He hugged Snufkin tightly. “You seemed so worried about what happens next, I was afraid that maybe you didn’t want me, you know, physically. That you wouldn’t enjoy it at all if we… I couldn’t imagine being the only one who liked it and you just tolerated it because you had to.”

If the pressing urge to press himself against Moomintroll from nose to toes and do… something, anything, all of the secretly imagined things that had just been whispered between them was any indication, suffering through whatever was to come would not be an issue. “I promise that won’t be the case.”

“Do you think we should make a plan, for when the time comes?”

Snufkin bit his lip. Trying to keep his head enough to stick to a plan, a script, in the midst of what threatened to be a whirlwind of raw feeling would likely make him even more nervous. “I assumed we would simply… let nature take its course.”

“Yes, that’s generally how such things happen, but I mean specifically a plan for where we’re going to go, and what we should take with us. When this happened to Snorkmaiden, the Snork just ran off and spent a few days squatting happily in his workshop. We had their house to ourselves. But there’s no way you and I will get any privacy anywhere close to Moominhouse, and the kind of things we’ll be doing can get, well. Noisy.” The troll’s pink ears tipped sideways bashfully. “We might not have a lot of time to prepare if it comes up suddenly.”

“Ah.” Snufkin had been so concerned with what he might say in the grips of his cycle that he hadn’t yet worried about how loudly he might say it. The new worry promptly jostled its way into the queue. “Yes, a plan might indeed be wise.” He fidgeted, willing his brain to think sensibly even as his body remained distractingly affected by their recent conversation. “Hmm. Actually, perhaps we should go back up to the hot spring? There are a few good places to camp there. It’s far flung enough that I don’t think we would be stumbled upon.”

Blue eyes sparkled at the suggestion. “That’s a great idea! Hardly anyone knows about it, and it would be so convenient for getting clean.”

Snufkin’s thoughts, which for a moment had obligingly bent toward problem solving, instantly derailed to focus on all the ways they could get one another thoroughly messy before getting clean again in the steaming water. “I think I’m broken,” he told Moomintroll conversationally. “I’m never going to be able to think about anything besides bedding you ever again.”

Moomintroll made a wounded little noise, his arms tightening around Snufkin as he shuddered. Snufkin couldn’t have agreed more. It was the middle of the afternoon. Moominhouse bustled with activity just a short distance away across the stream, and absolutely anyone could come looking for them at any moment. That made the struggle to keep paws in appropriate places no easier.

“Planning,” Snufkin said weakly, trying to steer them back on course through sheer determination. “You’re right. We need to prepare. What will we tell everyone?”

“That we’re going camping again. It’s the truth. We just won’t say where or why.” Moomintroll took several calming breaths. “Well, I’ll tell Snorkmaiden the whole truth. She’ll understand.” He frowned. “What about Little My? How do we keep her from following us?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Snufkin knew the answer. “We tell her the whole truth as well.”

Moomintroll balked. “Wait, what? No! She’ll do something to ruin it for us. Or open her gob and tell everyone everything.”

“Normally you would be absolutely right, but the goblin and I have a sibling honor system for important matters. I don’t believe she would want to see either of us in that particular situation, let alone with one another, so if I tell her why she needs to leave us be, she will. As for her telling anyone else… I never told Mymble Jr. who broke her favorite music box last spring, and I smuggled it to the village to get it repaired before she noticed it was missing. Little My owes me a special consideration.”

“Oooh, strategy.” Moomintroll nodded approvingly. “You’re so clever, Snufkin.”

“My idea of dealing with this entire situation was to run away and hide in the woods,” he pointed out with a rueful smile. “I believe you’re the smarter one between us, Moomee.”

Pale fur fluffed out at the compliment, showing the pleased pink blush beneath. “I’ll get a pack made up and stash it away,” Moomintroll said, deflecting the praise. “Hardtack, apples, jerky and jam and things like that. You’ll be able to fish for us, won’t you?”

“If I have the patience for it while I’m so discombobulated.” The thought of tumbling Moomintroll on a secluded streambank while his fishing float bobbed lazy and unheeded in the current unfolded across Snufkin’s mind like a particularly titillating mural. Yes, he might well be ruined for life. “But you’re not a bad fishertroll yourself, by any means. I’m sure you could provide for us in a pinch.”

The troll looked decidedly pleased. “Absolutely. Anything at all you need, just leave it to me!”

“What a gentlemoomin.” Warm affection surged through Snufkin like a breaking wave. “Actually, I believe I’ve just thought of something that I need.”

“Oh?” A white tail waved eagerly, ready and willing to please. “What is it?”

Snufkin reached up. Taking his boyfriend’s snout in his hands, he pulled it down to place a soft kiss on his nose. Then he gently tipped it back and to the side. Moomintroll made a questioning noise, but allowed his head to be maneuvered without complaint. Moving before he could second guess himself, Snufkin brought their mouths together. The velvety fuzz around the edges of the troll’s lips tickled his own in the best way.

Moomintroll went still with a little sound of surprise. A moment later he rallied, pressing back against Snufkin experimentally. After a few tentative pecks, a tongue carefully lapped at his lower lip. It wasn’t unpleasant, rather warm and damp, so Snufkin darted a little lick back.

In hindsight, Snufkin wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. One moment their tongues were gently meeting, tentative and curious, and the next it seemed as if their goal was to devour one another, each vying to be the first to map the contours of the other’s little fangs. Snufkin was sure he could taste a hint of raspberry jam. Quite suddenly the mymble preoccupation with mashing mouths together made so much more sense. No wonder his sister and all those romance novels obsessed over it! If this was what kissing was all about, he would happily kiss Moomintroll for the rest of the season—possibly the rest of eternity.

Moomintroll’s fluffy bulk pressed Snufkin back flat onto his bedroll. A powerful purr vibrated between the closeness of their chests. Mumrik paws kneaded the scruff at the nape of the troll’s neck, ensuring that he couldn’t pull away. One of Moomintroll’s paws threaded through Snufkin’s hair, the other squeezing his thigh. Their tails tangled together like quarreling snakes as the vagabond bucked up into the touch with a soft moan against his boyfriend’s mouth.

For one glorious moment Moomintroll leaned hard into him, pressing them firmly together from chest to knees. Snufkin tightened his fingers in the other’s fur, spread his legs wider, squirmed even closer. Something curiously firm poked at his lower belly. Then Moomintroll wrenched himself away with a gasp, leaving a very confused Snufkin sprawled on his bedroll with more than a few snow-white hairs clutched in his otherwise empty paws.

Panting, hair and smock mussed, Snufkin propped himself up on his elbows. “Moomintroll?”

The troll crouched with his back to Snufkin, flustered tail flicking wildly against the tent floor. From behind he looked like a large, slightly pink snowball. “Get back in there,” he muttered severely to himself, flushed ears lying back. “Um—sorry—sorry, Snufkin. Nothing to worry about! Just a bit of a slip-up. Er, slip-out? Be right as rain in a moment!” His paws had disappeared suspiciously into his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” Snufkin pulled his hat back over his hot face, half to hide and half to afford his boyfriend some privacy. Not that he wasn’t in exactly the same boat, but at least he had his old trousers to preserve some shadow of dignity.

“No, no, don’t be sorry! It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I started the kissing. I didn’t know it would be so… intense.”

Moomintroll laughed, equal parts embarrassed and giddy. “Neither did I. But it was really marvelous! I was just so happy that you were showing me something new, and we were so close, and it felt so nice. I guess I got carried away.”

“So did I.” Snufkin flopped back on his bedroll and stared into the dark inside his hat. ‘Carried away’ was an apt descriptor—like a bark boat in a tidal wave. If just a few relatively innocent mymble kisses had been enough to steer them into such tumultuous waters, perhaps he was in even deeper trouble than he thought.

“There, all back to normal,” Moomintroll announced rather cheerfully.

The vagabond peeked out from beneath his hat. Indeed, his boyfriend was once more round and white and soft all over, not a hint of indiscreetly poking appendages to be found. “That was fast.”

“It’s useful to be able to get un-excited really quickly when you don’t wear trousers. The trick is to think of something really unpleasant, like biting into a wormy apple, or Little My biting into you, or what’s under the Hemulen’s dress.”

“Yes, those are all very unpleasant things to think about,” Snufkin agreed with a foolish smile. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then said something even more foolish. “Let’s go tomorrow.”

Moomintroll’s ears perked. “Pardon?”

“We should leave tomorrow. For the hot spring.” Snufkin sat up, quickly transferring his hat to his lap. (Unlike Moomins, it seemed that Snufkins were not equipped to disengage proof of arousal at a moment’s notice, no matter how much he willed it.) He swallowed hard and forged onward. “The longer we wait, the more chance that something like this could happen again. I already can’t keep myself out of your bedroom at night. Better to be proactive and make sure we’re well away when I completely lose control of myself.”

“Oh. Well, yes, of course! We certainly can.” The tuft of Moomintroll’s tail wagged covertly, betraying his enthusiasm for the suggestion. His lovely blue eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement, perhaps even more so than if they had been discussing setting out on a grand adventure at sea. “I’ll get a pack put together this evening. As long as you’re sure, that is,” he hastened to reassure. “Please don’t feel like you have to rush it. We can wait as long as you need.”

Seeing the troll so obviously eager at the prospect of being alone with an overly amorous Snufkin made the decision much easier. “I am sure. We can leave after breakfast tomorrow. Moominmamma wouldn’t want us to go off on empty stomachs.”

“Certainly not. We do have to keep our strength up, after all.” Moomintroll offered Snufkin a very elaborate and suggestive wink; a skill he had been ridiculously proud of when he had finally mastered it two summers ago.

“Who are you and where has my innocent little dandelion puff of a best friend gone?” Snufkin laughed, giving him a playful swat. “Absolutely scandalous.”

Moomintroll leaned forward with a delighted giggle and landed a sweet nuzzle on the vagabond’s cheek. “Alright, then, you silly beast, swoon like a flustered fillyjonk. I’ll prove to you that love can be pure and wonderful and also feel really, really good.” Before Snufkin could comment or return the nuzzle, he had pulled back. “If we’re leaving tomorrow, I’m going to go spend some time with Snorkmaiden this afternoon. I’ll let her know what’s up so she won’t worry.”

“A good plan.” That would conveniently leave Snufkin free to have some quiet palpitations, and also attend to a few practical matters. “Go on then, away with you and leave me to clutch my pearls in peace. I’m sure I’ll see you this evening.”

“It’s a date.” Shooting Snufkin a beatific smile, Moomintroll was gone with a quick unzipping and re-zipping of the tent flap.

All was quiet for several moments. Straining his ears, Snufkin caught the creak of the troll’s hurried footsteps across the bridge. He waited a few moments more, easily able to imagine how far up the path his friend had gotten from long seasons watching him come and go. When he was sure that Moomintroll must have made it at least to the verandah, he flopped unceremoniously onto his bedroll, buried his face in the worn fabric, and gave a muffled but very heartfelt screech.

Moomintroll wants me. Moomintroll wants me. Moomintroll wants me. His tail thumped the floor deliriously. Simply being allowed to date his best friend had made Snufkin feel like the luckiest creature on earth. Discovering that he was somehow, miraculously, able to get Moomintroll as hot and bothered as Moomintroll got him made him feel a bit like he was getting his cake and eating it, too. Booble help me, Moomintroll wants me.

He could only hope that by the next evening, the troll would find that the reality of the having lived up to the imaginings of the wanting.

Chapter 9: A Moominous interlude

Chapter Text

Snufkin’s first order of business was to traumatize Little My.

He found her under a willow tree quite a ways downstream, weaving a net from the springy new willow fronds. (As it could have been meant for ambushing the mailman as easily as it could have been meant for catching minnows, Snufkin wisely decided not to inquire.) “Hello, Little My.”

She hardly glanced up at his approach. “I see you made it back from Mother’s in one piece. Have a nice visit with Mister Whiskers?”

“New spring, same old Papa.” Snufkin rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Anyway. I wanted to let you know that I’ll be heading out on a little trip tomorrow. Perhaps for a week or so.”

“Huh. You don’t usually tell me when you vanish.” She looked up from her project, willow leaves stuck to the sleeves of her dress. “Does this have anything to do with terrorizing park keepers? Need any company?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. And Moomintroll will be with me. We don’t need any company besides each other, if you please.”

“A romantic little getaway, is it?” Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Sounds like you two lovebirds need a chaperone to keep you out of trouble.”

“I can personally guarantee you that any creature following or spying on us is going to get an eyeful of romantic activities they won’t forget in a hurry,” he said bluntly, tapping the toe of his boot in the streambank grass and trying to ignore how hot his ears were. “And if you’d like a more in-depth explanation than that, you can go ask my father. I’m sure he’d be delighted to explain it more thoroughly, in excruciating detail.”

The small mymble blinked, head tilting in curiosity for only a moment before her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in realization. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re doing that mumrik springtime thing where you’re just constantly horn—”

“Little My!” He shot out a paw and clapped it over her mouth, tail swishing awkwardly. “A bit of decency wouldn’t be out of place. But… unfortunately, yes.” In hindsight, it didn’t really surprise him that she was at least aware that mumriks had seasonal cycles. For a very small creature, his half-sister usually noticed much more than everyone else around her. “That’s why I’m telling you, so you don’t try to follow us and see something that you’d rather not.”

She shoved his paw away with a huff. “Thanks for the warning, I suppose. I saw enough of your bare backside when you were a toddler and decided clothing was the devil.”

That was the trouble with older sisters; they always had some embarrassing childhood memory to hold over one’s head. “And you won’t tell anyone else about this, will you?” he asked rather anxiously.

“Well, that depends, doesn’t it?” She rubbed her paws together slyly. “What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing that you showed a kindness to Moomintroll and I.” At her very unimpressed look and arched brow, he crossed his arms firmly and squared up. “And Mymble Jr. never finds out what happened to the music box she’s so very fond of. You know the one. The Inspector gave it to her for her birthday. Handmade overseas. Very, very difficult for the village craftsmen to repair when someone dropped it off the mantle.”

Little My let out an indignant gasp, half-finished willow net flying forgotten to the wayside. “That’s blackmail, Snufkin!”

“It was blackmail when you tried to get something in return for not telling the whole valley when I’m trying to be intimate with my boyfriend.”

They regarded each other for several tense moments. Snufkin’s tail discovered the previously unknown ability to set all its hairs on end in irritation.

Finally, perhaps realizing that her brother had no plans to back down from this particular confrontation, Little My relaxed. “Didn’t think you had it in you,” she allowed with grudging respect. “Your secret’s safe with me. Shake on it.”

Very solemnly, the siblings shook paws.

“Perhaps you can have one small favor,” Snufkin conceded, magnanimous in his relief. Trickery against park keepers, police inspectors, malignant magical entities, et cetera was one thing, but it didn’t feel right against family and friends (even if his rotten onion sibling had been willing to stoop to it first).

“I want to go on an adventure,” she replied instantly. “In the boat. Whenever you two are through being twitter-pated ninnies and I won’t retch if I’m near you too long.”

“That doesn’t sound like a small favor, Little My. It sounds like a rather big favor.”

“And it also sounds like fun, doesn’t it? We’ll take all the friends along. I refuse to let them all fall into boringness and complacency just because you and the marshmallows are all caught up in the—blech!— ‘web of love.’ There’s much more to life than romance, lest you forget.”

Snufkin tried very hard to keep a straight face. “It sounds as though someone might be a touch envious,” he observed sagely. “If you’re interested in trying out dating, I believe Sniff is still single.”

Hands on her hips, Little My stuck her tiny nose in the air with an offended snort. “Sniff couldn’t handle such an epic romance. He’s far too wobbly and timid. Like a jelly.” Waving him away dismissively, she collected her net of willow weave. “Be a nice little brother and make sure Moominmamma has some seasickness medicine made up before our voyage. With Sniff along, you know we’re going to need it.”

- // - // - // - // -

Draped across the lacy counterpane that adorned Snorkmaiden’s bed, Moomintroll sighed contentedly. A sunbeam through a high window slowly tracked across the floor, illuminating the colorful jars and half-finished watercolor painting that Snorkmaiden had left on the flowery rug. Chin pillowed on his arms, girlfriend’s head pillowed in the small of his back, he could think of very few better ways to spend a spring afternoon (besides, just possibly, learning how to mymble-kiss).

Snorkmaiden played absently with the tuft of his tail. “I’m awfully glad you dropped in, m’love. At least somebody got to enjoy all the effort I put into that macaroni and mushroom casserole.”

“Your brother is crazy,” he confirmed. “You’ve gotten to be almost as good a cook as Moominmamma and he’s still skipping meals to work on his inventions.”

She snorted. “Sometimes I worry for his life after I eventually move out of the house for good. He might actually starve to death if I’m not here to take him up a plate when he forgets to eat for two days. If he doesn’t manage to blow himself up first.”

“We’ll jump that hurdle when we come to it,” Moomintroll told her kindly.

“I suppose we will.” She sighed, then apparently put such domestic concerns on the back burner. “Now then—you said you had something you wanted to tell me and I distracted you with food. What’s up?”

It was enough to perk the troll out of his pleasant lethargy. “Oh, yes! I wanted to tell you that Snufkin and I are leaving tomorrow to camp at the hot spring for a few days, until he’s sure he won’t try to instigate one of us getting ravished by the other on the front lawn. I wanted to tell you so you won’t worry when we go.”

“My goodness,” Snorkmaiden giggled. “Getting close to his time, then?”

“It has to be. He’s really antsy, and he’s been waking up stiff every morning.” Moomintroll’s ears went a bit pink at the memories. If only it didn’t take falling out of bed to rouse him from a heavy sleep, perhaps by now he could have woken up at the right moment to convince Snufkin to let him lend a paw. “The Joxter turned up last night. Snuf went to talk to him this morning and came back looking like a comet was about to hit us. Again.”

Snorkmaiden tsked sympathetically. “Poor thing. He never has wanted to be fussed over, so this is probably hard for him.”

“I think so. I was starting to worry that he just plain didn’t want to sleep with anyone, even me, but then this afternoon—” Realizing what he had been about to divulge, he cut himself off with a blush. “Erm. Never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.”

His girlfriend stilled. The paws on his tail disappeared as she levered herself upright to look down at him with mischievous delight. “Oh, what’s this? Have there been developments in Snufkin seduction? Do tell…”

Arms stretched across the bed, the Moomin tapped his paws together worriedly. “Are you sure you really don’t mind this? Me and Snufkin being more intimate, I mean. Now that it’s really happening and we’re not just talking about it as a thing that will happen eventually.”

“Oh, dear, whatever shall I do?” she lamented dramatically, the back of one paw pressed daintily to her brow. “Woe is surely me, to be left here all alone while you spirit your new lover away into the rugged mountains to strip him of his innocence.”

“Snorkmaiden,” he whined bashfully, covering his blushing snout with his paws.

“I’m teasing!” she laughed, petting his flank reassuringly. “Of course I don’t mind. We knew from literally the very beginning that you two were going to sleep together sooner or later. If I had a problem with that I wouldn’t have agreed to you dating him. Besides, I’m the last creature that would deny someone comfort during their seasonal cycle—especially one of my dearest friends.”

Moomintroll remembered very well how out of sorts she had been during her own time of the year, all grumpy and uncomfortable and chartreuse. He was terribly glad that their dear Snufkin wouldn’t suffer the same (unfortunate color changes notwithstanding).

“Now then, do tell; what exactly did you two get up to this afternoon? Inquiring minds want to know.” True to her word, Snorkmaiden’s honeyed eyes reflected only eager curiosity.

“Oh, well… nothing too much, really…” He traced the pattern on the bedspread with one finger. Tiny white ears folded shyly. “He just seemed so upset, I asked him if we could talk about it. We had a nice cuddle. I admitted I’ve daydreamed about having a tumble in his tent. No big deal.”

She nodded wisely. “I suspected as much a time or two.”

“He was worried he’s going to be ‘indecent’ when his cycle hits, so I wanted to prove to him that I can be saucy, too. I’m not entirely innocent, you know!” Moomintroll huffed, crossing his arms beneath his chin.

“Oh, I do know. I will gladly vouch for your lack of innocence to our esteemed companion if need be.” Snorkmaiden patted his rump, both reassuring and playful. “It was good of you to let Snufkin know he’s not in it alone. I’m sure that made him feel much better.”

“I think it must have. He actually asked about more of my fantasies, and then he even told me some of his. Though I had to threaten to tickle it out of him. And then he showed me how to kiss like a mymble.”

“Oooh, really?” She clasped her paws excitedly. “That’s always looked so intriguing, bumping your lips together instead of just your snouts. How was it?”

Moomintroll rolled onto his back to look up at her. Though he knew he had to be grinning foolishly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Very different, but very good!” His ears wiggled giddily at the memory. “Very, very good. So good I had to stop us before it got a bit too good. And that’s when Snufkin decided it would be better to leave sooner than later.”

His girlfriend nodded approvingly. “I’d say he made the right choice. He is half mymble, after all; I’ll bet he’ll take to the arts of love like a duck to water once the floodgates open. Especially with you there to show him how it’s done.”

“Do you think I’ll do a good job?” the troll couldn’t help but ask. He had done his best not to let worry creep in leading up to such a happy and exciting occasion, but now that the time was nigh he rather had no choice but to contemplate what-ifs.

Snorkmaiden’s golden fringe swayed as she co*cked her head in puzzlement. “What do you mean? Of course you will.”

Moomintroll sighed. “It’s just that Snufkin knows so much, and he’s shown and taught me so many amazing things over the years, and I don’t often get to be the one to introduce him to something new. I want to repay him, I suppose, and make sure he enjoys himself learning about all this romance business.” He looked up at Snorkmaiden imploringly. “When you and I had our first time I knew that you had read enough romances to know what you wanted and how everything worked, and you’d guide me. I didn’t have to be too awfully nervous.”

“I was rather the driving force,” she agreed. The playful smile hadn’t left her face. “But you are an excellent partner, my sweet—attentive and giving and such a quick study.” She cupped his muzzle and leaned down to nuzzle the tip of his snout with her own. “You’ll do splendidly. Snufkin will love every second of your time together.”

He wiggled happily at the praise and nuzzles. “If you say so, then I believe it. You are the grand mistress of romance, after all.”

“All of your training has prepared you for this moment. I’m fully confident that you shall rise admirably to the challenge.” A gentle paw stroked the roundness of his belly. “Just as it seems you’re rising right now.”

“Huh?” For a moment he blinked up at her in confusion, until the direction of her amused gaze turned pointedly southward. Moomintroll’s ears shot up in shock. His paws reflexively darted between his legs to cover the pink tip of his shaft, peeking cheekily from its slit once more. His ears and snout reddened. How terribly embarrassing to have accidentally popped out in front of his boyfriend and his girlfriend within the same day. “Oh gosh, sorry, Snorkmaiden! It’s just that I’ve talked about sex so much today, and Snufkin’s trying to control himself so I’m trying to be good, too, and—”

“What on earth do you need to be sorry about, you silly thing? We are discussing matters of great passion; it’s completely natural that your moominhood would take notice.” Her paw, still resting on his middle, changed course to slowly trail over the backs of his own clasped paws. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit warm beneath the fluff myself. We haven’t really had a chance for some quality alone time yet this spring, after all.”

It was indeed true. They had spent a lovely evening together the day before everyone had settled in for hibernation, but not since. Moomintroll thought she had been remarkably patient given how much time he had needed to spend with Snufkin since they woke up. “I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Oh, don’t be. But… perhaps we can rectify the situation.”

The suggestion did nothing to persuade his member to do the polite thing and hide itself again. He let his paws drop as hers moved lower, petting the inside of his thigh. “Oh?”

“Absolutely. I have to take my opportunities as they present themselves, after all.” Eyelashes fluttering coquettishly, she finally circled one finger around the little pink nub emerging from his white fur. Another inch immediately extended to meet the attention. “Besides, I daresay we should take this awful edge off today or you’ll have no stamina whatsoever tomorrow. That won’t do at all.”

Moomintroll’s tail began to flick against the bedspread with anticipation. “Well, when you put it like that...” He’d felt a moment of fleeting guilt at the thought of enjoying himself with Snorkmaiden while Snufkin was still suffering, but satisfying his lady while enhancing his prowess to benefit his boyfriend later? That he could get behind. “If you’d like, then I’m certainly up for it. As you can see.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that,” she giggled. Giving him a quick nuzzle, she slid off the bed and carefully locked the bedroom door. “Can’t get that Snork out of his room for anything when he’s working on models and blueprints, but the instant we’re indisposed is when he’ll suddenly need to know where the spare handkerchiefs are and bust my door in.”

“I’d be offended if I thought he was doing it on purpose, but he’s just that oblivious,” the Moomin agreed. He rolled himself upright as she scampered back to the bed and into his arms, but her enthusiastic pounce toppled him back into the pillows with a laugh. “Well hello, you.”

Their noses met again, this time more firmly. Both sighed happily as they nuzzled methodically up and down either side of one another’s sensitive snouts, soothing and stimulating in turn. Paws reacquainted themselves with soft fur and plush curves, as welcome as warm sunlight after the cold solitude of winter. Moomintroll nestled his snout into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent. Arms tight around him, she meeped and giggled at the tickle.

Finally, snuggle quota apparently having been met, Snorkmaiden pulled back a bit to let him sit up against the pillows (though she made no move to relinquish her position, straddling his ample hips). “Oh, that’s lovely. I missed that.”

“So did I.”

“And it looks like someone else has missed me, too.” She reached between them, where his shaft was by that point fully extended and pressing into the fluff of her lower belly. He shuddered and squirmed as a gentle but eager paw wrapped around its base. “How long are you likely to last, m’love?”

“Not long at all,” he huffed, opting for the less disastrous path of honesty.

“Well, that’s just fine. Neither will I.”

Terribly distracted by the slow glide of her soft paw up and down his length, Moomintroll fought to keep his thoughts in order. “Are you sure? I can take care of you first if you want.”

“Didn’t I say you were a thoughtful lover?” She released his length to stroke his snout lovingly instead. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now I simply want to feel you inside of me. Have you taken your—?”

“It was one of the first things I did when I woke up this spring,” he assured. The contraceptive potion worked for exactly one moon cycle; far less time than they had spent in hibernation. Renewing its effects had been a top priority. “Took it right after I brushed my fur and cleaned my teeth.” His ears flattened thoughtfully. “The potion tastes very bad right after mint toothpaste.”

She nodded approvingly. “Well done, you. And so did I. So we’re golden.” Her hips shifted atop his, betraying her own enthusiasm. “Let’s?”

“At your command, my princess.” Bumping their snouts together with a grin, he feathered his paw across the creamy expanse of her thigh until it rested between her legs, barely touching the secret place where thick fur thinned to finer fuzz. “May I?”

“Oh yes, please.” Her knees slid even further apart to grant him access.

Permission granted, Moomintroll slipped one finger gently between her small, velvety lips, already slick with her eagerness. She sighed happily, eyes fluttering shut as she canted her hips into his paw. It was snug, of course, but not terribly so, and he teased the way open further to her blissful sighs and coos. In no time at all she was squirming and swiveling against the pressure, ears flicking impatiently.

“Darling, as much as I appreciate your gentlemoominly inclinations, now would be a fantastic time for more.”

“Right, right. Just making sure.” Withdrawing his paw, he took hold of himself with it and placed the less sticky paw on her hip. “Whenever you like.”

Snorkmaiden heaved a sigh of relief. Bracing her paws on his chest, she lined herself up and sank down upon his offering without further ado. His deeper moan joined her more delicate one as the smooth, tapered head of him disappeared into her welcoming warmth with a gradual and most appreciated stretch.

Moomintroll’s tail flicked the blankets, toes curling in his ardor. Oh, this was heavenly. The way her satiny channel rippled around him as she worked her way down towards the thicker base of his shaft, clutching him tightly as if afraid he might suddenly withdraw, blissful. The moment was absolutely perfect—

“Oh!” Snorkmaiden stiffened with a jolt, eyes shooting wide open.

Moomintroll froze instantly (all but his tail, which whapped the bedspread in panicky jerks). “What?! What’s the matter? Have I hurt you? Should we stop?”

“No, not at all,” she assured breathlessly, “but I’ve just realized—you’re going to need something slippery, aren’t you, if you and Snufkin decide to do it this way?”

Oh, but he did not need to suddenly imagine sinking into Snufkin like that. Or vice versa. Not if he wanted to last more than half a minute. The troll bit his lip with a strangled squeak. “I suppose—ah!—that we will, but I’ll—I’ll think about that later.”

“Are you sure? Don’t forget. It seems like an awfully important detail.”

“I’ll just pack some sunflower oil. No worries at all!” Tiny white ears laid flat in concentration as he fought for control. He would not imagine Snufkin sprawled beneath him on his bedroll, writhing under his tender touch. He would not picture the mumrik crouched above him, wild-eyed and hungry in the midst of his cycle. He would not—

His shaft gave a hard (and completely involuntary) twitch. Moomintroll shuddered from snout to tail, hanging on by a bare thread.

“My goodness, I actually felt you jump! You’re more keyed up than even I imagined, you poor thing.” A look of determination flashed across Snorkmaiden’s muzzle. She began to rock steadily atop him.

He gripped her soft hips desperately. “Snorkmaiden, wait, if you do that I’m going to—”

“Oh, please, be my guest,” she invited breathily. One paw stole down and began to rapidly rub at the swollen little bud directly above where they were joined.

The blatant enjoyment on her face was more than enough to banish any protests. Moomintroll braced his feet against the mattress and thrust up to meet her. Their tails looped together in blissful abandon.

Her free paw caught his arm and squeezed encouragingly. “Ah! Yes, Moomintroll, just like that~”

Exclamations of pleasure and affirmation, he had discovered from the very beginning, were central to his downfall. Pants, gasps, and shuddery exhalations filled her sunny bedroom. The bed began to creak, a polite and subdued protest. Groaning through gritted teeth, Moomintroll bounced her pillowy form firmly in his lap and leapt willingly from the cliff of climax. Paw hard at work between them, Snorkmaiden followed him over with a quickly stifled but very satisfied little cry.

Harsh, unsteady breathing reigned for long moments as they shuddered through mild aftershocks. Moomintroll flopped bonelessly back into the pillows like a chunk of iceberg slipping from a glacier. Snorkmaiden followed him down with considerably more grace, draping herself atop him with her fringe tucked beneath his chin and his softening length still held snugly inside. She heaved a sigh of pure contentment as his paws rose automatically to stroke up and down the satiny expanse of her back.

“Yes, that exactly,” he murmured dreamily, eyes slipping closed.

She giggled lovingly. “Silly thing.”

He denied nothing, nudging his snout against her forehead with a smile that surely proved her point. “I love you, Snorkmaiden.”

“And I love you.” Her tail tightened temporarily around his as if to affirm her declaration. “And I’m going to make some lubricant for you to take with you tomorrow. There’s a recipe in Moominmamma’s potion and remedy book; not specifically for intimate uses, but I’m sure it’ll suit the purpose just fine. It should be awfully simple to brew.”

The troll lifted his head in surprise. “Really, you will?”

“Of course. You know how hard it is to wash oil off the paws, let alone out of one’s pelt. Just leave it to me.”

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Snorkmaiden.” He hesitated, then coughed delicately. “I don’t suppose there might be a potion for increasing a fellow’s stamina in that book…?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. Not to disparage your ideas, dearest, but I can think of at least one very alarming way in which such a potion might backfire. Best not to risk it.”

“Fair point.”

Seemingly satisfied that she had put the idea from her boyfriend’s inquisitive mind, Snorkmaiden rolled gently off of her moominian perch. “Now, then. Shall we go tidy up before we leak all over my counterpane? It just had its post-hibernation wash last week.”

His ears drooped sadly as she pulled away. He liked half an hour of snuggly afterglow, at minimum. “I suppose, if we must.”

She slid from the bed with a mischievous grin. Alluring dampness prickled the fur between her thighs. “Don’t look so put out, m’love. You know… the pipes in our house are awfully old and rackety. I’m sure they’d cover just any old noises from the bathroom if we wanted to—oh, say—have another go before we rinse off?”

Moomintroll’s ears and other parts southward perked up instantly. He nearly fell on his nose in his haste to leave the bed. “Oh! Oh, yes, absolutely!”

He was certain, as he followed the beckoning curl of her tail out into the hall, that no Moomin had ever before been so lucky in love.

- // - // - // - // -

Cheered by his success with Little My, Snufkin had returned to camp to ponder his next move.

Unlike Moomintroll, he had no need to pack in preparation. Everything he owned could be thrown together and on his back in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, that left him with a lot of time on his paws. He was bubbling with nervous energy; almost too fidgety to fish for his lunch. His tail flopped willy-nilly against the warm wood of the bridge.

The kiss with Moomintroll refused to leave his mind.

Knowing without a doubt that his boyfriend wanted to make love with him was an incredible relief, but the knowledge also brought yet another point of concern. Moomintroll was looking forward to their time together. It was Snufkin’s duty as a good partner not to disappoint him. Dear, sweet, wonderful Moomintroll deserved the best of everything, but Snufkin fretted that whatever he could provide in bed (or bedroll, as it were) would be subpar, especially since Moomintroll already had experience in that area. While the vagabond logically knew that a single creature could not be good at everything, he was usually the worldly one that the others looked to for guidance and advice. Being the party with least experience was disconcerting.

Despite his anxiety, however, the baser parts of his brain weren’t at all interested in tedious concerns about sexual adequacy. Instead they kept zipping back to how absolutely perfect the troll had felt on top of him—warm and heavy and soft and firm in all the right places. His silky fur smelled so good. His big paws were so gentle. Snufkin realized that he was purring quietly to himself, eyes half lidded and small fangs worrying his lower lip.

Shaking himself, he straightened up with a jerk and squirmed where he sat. Meeting this head on was probably wise, he thought uneasily.

All of that squirming must have bounced his fishing rod in a way the fish approved of, for the next moment there was a hard tug on the line. Just as well, really, he thought, and reeled it in with a blush.

If he didn’t find some way to keep his mind in check he was going to be in for a very uncomfortable evening. For the first time since his return to Moominvalley, he decided that he might not feel very guilty at all for slipping away by himself to tend to these horribly distracting urges. But if he waited just one night more, in place of his own paw he could have his boyfriend’s much nicer one. The choice wasn’t hard to make.

A sharp jab to his palm brought Snufkin out of his thoughts with a shocked yelp. The fish he had been holding splashed back into the stream and disappeared with a triumphant wave of its spiky fins. He huffed, narrowly resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out at it. He wasn’t all that hungry anyway.

Zipping his fishing rod inside his tent, the vagabond decided that he would simply do what he did best: wander. Physical motion always helped his thoughts flow more freely.

The trouble, he thought as he set off into the forest at a leisurely pace, was that he didn’t know what kinds of amorous activities Moomintroll would like most. Snufkin understood enough to know that he could probably offer most of the same pleasures Snorkmaiden could (once he got the hang of it, of course) but there was one rather glaring difference. Could they make do with just paws and lips, or would he need to take more drastic measures? He had half a mind to sneak into someone’s kitchen and pinch some cooking oil, just in case, but the logistics were tricky. With the swarm of tiny half-siblings overflowing his mother’s house he was sure to be caught by at least one of them, and he had negative amounts of desire to see the knowing grin on his father’s whiskered mug. For a moment he considered raiding the cupboards of Moominhouse and making up to Moominmamma later for the transgression, but the thought of her kind face made him reflexively hide behind his paws in shame.

The answer hit him all at once. Snufkin stopped in the middle of the path in surprise, unsure why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Snorkmaiden had been nothing but supportive so far. Surely if he asked politely, she would spare a few moments and a few words of advice to help Snufkin ensure that their boyfriend wasn’t left wanting?

Mind made up, he turned on his heel and headed for the Snork siblings’ house.

Chapter 10: Consulting an expert

Chapter Text

Snufkin put his subtle hooligan skills to use and lurked in the forest near Snorkmaiden’s home, staking out the path until Moomintroll walked down it toward Moominhouse in the late afternoon. The troll was humming happily, looking for all the world like a creature without a single care or worry. Snufkin couldn’t help but smile. He felt slightly bad about hiding in the trees, watching his boyfriend pass by without divulging his presence, but reminded himself that such espionage was ultimately for Moomintroll’s benefit.

As soon as the coast was clear, Snufkin left the cover of the forest and hurried onward. As he approached the Snorks’ house he caught sight of motion through the open kitchen window. The sounds and smells of supper preparation carried on the breeze proved that the figure bustling about inside was certainly the house’s sisterly occupant.

Snufkin tiptoed carefully through the flower bed beneath the kitchen window. Standing on his toes, he popped his head over the windowsill. “Hi, Snorkmaiden.”

“Eee!” A bolt of bright orange flared through her fur. For an instant her expanded tail tuft looked like a blooming poppy. Several onions tumbled off the counter and onto the floor as she fumbled a ladle and a pot lid. “Snufkin! Goodness.” Recognition brought a relieved sigh. She lowered the ladle that had been raised threateningly, the lid to her chest like a shield. “Don’t startle me like that, lovey. I nearly put a dent in your hat.”

He chuckled sheepishly, tail wagging among the tulips. “Sorry. I can always hear people walking up to my home, so I forget sometimes that other creatures might not.”

“Yes, it’s a bit harder to hear when one’s walls aren’t made of canvas,” she agreed. Replacing the lid on its pot, she chased down the onions. “Are you looking for Moomintroll? I’m afraid he just left a few minutes ago.”

“I was hoping he had already gone, actually. Can we talk? You and I?”

“Oh, of course. Come on in if you like—just not through the window.”

Snufkin obligingly came around the side of the house and through the front door like a semi-civilized creature.

Still looking a bit surprised but nevertheless pleased to see him, Snorkmaiden waved him to a seat at the table where a teacup, teapot, butter dish, and a basket of sliced bread seemed to be waiting. “I was just going to have a little snack while dinner simmers, if you’d like to join me.”

“Thank you very much.” He still wasn’t very hungry, but could surely manage a nibble for the sake of politeness.

Snorkmaiden rummaged inside a cabinet and emerged with a second teacup. “So, what brings you here to see me? Moomintroll told me you two are headed off to the hot spring tomorrow.” She sighed dreamily, clutching the teacup in both paws. “Stealing away into the heart of the wilderness to consummate a star-crossed love! How terribly romantic. I should remember to do that with him sometime.” Humming happily, she spun a half turn and placed the cup delicately onto the table beside the first. “Of course it would be a re-consummation for us, but we could always pretend it’s the first time. That might be fun.”

Snufkin took a moment to process how he felt about Snorkmaiden discussing such activities with their shared boyfriend so freely. He settled on embarrassed, but mostly thankful that she really didn’t seem to be jealous at all. “I’m not sure how romantic it will be, unfortunately,” he admitted, fiddling with the ends of his scarf. “I’m just as likely to behave like a starved animal as a proper lover.”

One cream-colored ear co*cked curiously before realization dawned. “Ah, yes. Seasonal cycles do rather put a damper on the finer points of romance.” She quickly filled both cups with tea and sat down beside him. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes.” He watched the liquid swirl inside the cup rather than meet her knowing honey-colored gaze. “It has occurred to me that I have very little idea what I’m doing, but thanks to you Moomintroll has already experienced the very best in romance of an emotional and physical nature. So: I am going to be very bad at everything by comparison and Moomintroll is going to be very disappointed but he would never admit that he was disappointed and I feel terrible about that and what if—”

Her paw descended firmly on the tabletop with a thump that rattled the teacups in their saucers. “Snufkin, sweetie, you’re spiraling. Take a breath.”

He did, gasping a bit as he forced the air in. His paws slowly relaxed the death grip he’d gotten on the brim of his hat, pulling it down over his face reflexively. “… sorry.”

“Well done.” She took a calm sip of tea. “I promise you, it’s going to be fine.”

The vagabond groaned, scrubbing at his face with his paws. “It’s going to be chaos.”

Snorkmaiden hummed thoughtfully. “You know, Snufkin, that’s a fairly good description of what mine and Moomintroll’s first time was like. He was trying to be very sweet and romantic and reassure me that he loved me truly and deeply before we advanced our affections to the sensual stage. But in my compromised state, I’m afraid I decided that he took absolutely too long to say it and took matters into my own paws, so to speak.”

Snufkin recalled the Moomin saying as much. “He mentioned that there might have been a dressing table involved?”

“Indeed there was. I all but fell upon him, poor thing, and he whacked his dear head on it as we went down. The flurry of wild bliss that followed, as entirely unexpected as it was, was exactly what I needed at the time.” She sighed happily at the recollection, paws to her pink cheeks. “And afterwards, when I came back to my senses, I was distraught to the point of weeping. I had a very different idea of what our mutual deflowering was going to be like, you see, and I was inconsolable, convinced that I’d completely ruined it. But do you know what Moomintroll said?”

The furless parts of his own face equally rosy, Snufkin nevertheless hung on her every word. “What did he say?”

“He said he thought it was terribly romantic, especially the part where I tackled him to the floor in a fit of passion. It made me feel so much better. Then he went out and ransacked my rosebushes for petals and I lit some candles and we did it again, the way I had imagined our first time would be, and everything was absolutely right with the world.”

That sounded so very like Moomintroll. Snufkin’s heart felt full to bursting with affection for their ridiculously sweet boyfriend. “So it all worked out in the end.”

“It did. And it will work out for you, too,” she said firmly. “For starters, there are no dressing tables in your tent. Not giving your paramour a concussion directly before lovemaking is a wonderful first step.”

Smiling a bit despite himself, Snufkin finally picked up his tea. “And what would be a good second step? Any advice would be terribly helpful. I’ve no idea what Moomintroll likes.”

“Oh, that’s very easy, Snufkin.” She spread some butter on a slice of bread matter-of-factly. “Moomintroll likes you. He’s a very devoted creature, as you know. And that means he will like whatever it is you two wind up doing, simply because you’re doing it together.”

His boot began to tap the floor beneath the table in anxious disbelief. “It can’t be that simple.”

“I’m afraid it can. I’ve done extensive research in this field, and I’m sharing my findings with you so you can skip all the silliness and get right to the good parts.” She took a dainty nibble of bread and butter. “That being said: stroke his ears while he’s got his snout between your legs. Drives him wild.”

Snufkin’s boot skipped a scandalized beat, then tapped quicker. His cheeks flamed beneath the shadow of his hat. “You really think he’ll want to do that?”

“I imagine so. He’s a very giving partner.”

“But I’m a… and you’re…” Shyly, Snufkin gestured vaguely between them. “Does he know what to do with another boy?”

“When has not knowing how to do something ever stopped Moomintroll from trying to do it?” she asked sensibly.

“Point.” He stared very closely at a scuff on the wood grain of the tabletop. “Should I do it back?”

“Well, that’s up to you. I’m sure he’d like it very much, if you’re comfortable with it.” A sudden rattle from across the kitchen caught both their attentions. The pot lid clattered as the soup beneath bubbled with dangerous enthusiasm. “Oh, krumkakes. Hold on a tick.” Snorkmaiden hurried over, snatched up the ladle and a pot holder, and gave the soup a stir. “As I was saying—if you’re comfortable with it, yes, he certainly does enjoy it when I return that particular favor.”

“I see.” Snufkin rolled the teacup gently between his palms. “Is it… difficult?”

“Not especially. It just takes a bit of practice, that’s all.”

“How am I meant to practice something like that?” he asked a bit pitifully.

“Only by paws-on experience, I’m afraid.” With a last stir, Snorkmaiden covered the soup once more. She paused by the counter. “Unless…” A pile of onions, carrots and potatoes lay heaped by the sink. Slowly she picked up a good sized carrot, smooth and uniformly tapered. Holding it consideringly in both paws, she cast Snufkin a thoughtful sideways glance.

Their eyes met. His widened. Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Then they both burst into laughter. Snorkmaiden snorted inelegantly into her paw, trying to smother it, which in turn made Snufkin laugh even harder, his tail whipping painfully against the wooden leg of his chair. She dropped the carrot back onto the counter, leaning weakly against it as she covered her eyes despairingly, entire body bright yellow and wracked with laughter. Sure he had never laughed so hard in all his life, Snufkin likewise slouched against the table. His hat fell off; he hardly noticed.

“What in the world is so funny in here?”

Snufkin nearly choked as the Snork poked his head around the kitchen door, a flummoxed expression on his bespectacled face. “Oh—ha!—heh-hello, Snork.” The vagabond waved a weak paw, trying in vain to regain his composure and look like a mostly sane creature. “It’s been a while.” He bit his lip viciously to stopper the flood of snickers. “Ahem. How are your inventions coming along?”

Snorkmaiden gasped for breath and wiped a tear of mirth from her eye. “Please don’t get him started on his inventions. It will completely derail our very important conversation.”

With a huff, the Snork circled round to investigate the soup. “Is dinner almost ready? I’m starving.”

“You’re starving because you skipped lunch, Snork,” his sister pointed out, straightening her fringe with a giggle. “It won’t be long now. Perhaps another hour. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He sighed grumpily. “Well, alright. But I’m at least going to have a snack in the meantime. My stomach is growling so loudly I can hardly think.” Quick as that he reached out, picked up the carrot she had abandoned, and neatly bit the tip off.

It could later be argued that the sound Snorkmaiden made then was a fully-fledged scream. Hysterics rushing back like an avalanche down a mountainside, she and Snufkin lost themselves to laughter once more. Abandoning all pretense of sensibility, Snufkin crossed his arms on the tabletop and buried his red face in them as he cackled, unwilling to face the Snork’s absolute bewilderment any longer.

“Well… ah… I suppose I’ll just leave you two to it, then.” Munching anxiously and looking decidedly nervous, the Snork retreated. The carrot remained clutched in his paw. He cast one last worried look at the pair and hurried from the room.

“He took it!” Snorkmaiden gasped after he had disappeared, holding her shaking sides. “He took it with him! I can’t—I can’t even—!” Slowly she slid down the side of the counter until her bottom met the rug, where she sat, panting for breath and overwhelmed by the occasional rush of helpless giggles as her fur slowly faded back to cream.

Snufkin’s own stomach hurt from the convulsions. He managed to force himself to wobbly feet long enough to collect his hat from the floor and cross the kitchen. He sank down beside her with a groan. “Oh my goodness. I feel lightheaded.”

“It’d be a wonder if you didn’t,” she tittered, ears flicking giddily. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you lose your composure like that.” She elbowed him teasingly. “Not bad for the infamous Snufkin, always cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber Snufkin is long gone, I’m afraid. My reputation will be quite ruined.” Not that he had ever cared much about his reputation in the first place, so long as his friends still held him in their esteem. He let his head fall back against the cabinet with a quiet thump. “Do you have any other suggestions that don’t involve root vegetables?” He might never again be able to eat carrots with a straight face.

Amid another burst of giggles, Snorkmaiden reached down between them and put her paw over his. “Snufkin, I promise, everything’s going to be fine. Just remember to be open with Moomintroll. If you like something, say you do. If you don’t like something, be honest and say that you don’t. Communication is the most important thing.”

The warm weight of her soft paw was soothing. He leaned into her side instinctively. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good. Being clear about what you want or don’t want is ever so helpful. For example: once, while we were making love, I was admiring the way his manly rump flexed under my paws. My squeezing prompted him to stutter ‘by my tail,’ which I took literally and gave the base of his tail a good grope. He climaxed instantly and was terribly embarrassed. So you see, asking for clarification is never amiss.”

“I see…” He fought the urge to hide his red face in her shoulder and ducked further under his hat instead.

“Snufkin, you are aware that you won’t be able to hide under your hat whilst lost in the throes of passion, right?” she asked, clearly amused.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Because hats are not to be worn during lovemaking!” she laughed. “It’s not the done thing.”

He fought to keep a straight face through his blush. “Then the deal is off.”

“I will hike up that mountain, march into your campsite, and take it off your head myself.”

“What a heartless creature you’ve become, Snorkmaiden,” he pouted, doing his best to mimic Moomintroll’s puppy eyes.

“Au contraire, my friend; it is entirely in the defense of the heart that I take whatever drastic measures may become necessary.” With an ornery glint in her eye, she suddenly swiped the hat off his head. “In the name of romance!”

Snufkin made a sound of (entirely feigned) offense and reached to take it back. She leaned away, hat held out beyond his grabbing paws, fending him off with her free arm. In moments they were both giggling again, and not even the thought of what the Snork would say if he came back in and found them on the floor playing a game of keep-away like little children was enough to make the vagabond care.

“Alright, alright,” he finally conceded, falling limply against her. “You win. You have my word—I will take off my hat.” He wondered dimly if perhaps he shouldn’t cling to her so much, but surely she would say something if she were bothered by his pre-season tendencies toward physical closeness.

Indeed, Snorkmaiden seemed the farthest thing from bothered. Smiling widely at her victory, she put an arm around him and patted his back with her hatless paw. “There’s a love. I knew you’d see reason. And Moomintroll will be glad to see your handsome face.”

Unable to hide behind his confiscated hat, Snufkin turned his face into the soft fur of her shoulder with what could only be described as an embarrassed mew. The passing years had seen more and more admiring glances and sometimes suggestive comments thrown his way as he approached full adulthood; mostly from strangers during his winter travels south, and none of which he returned or wanted in the first place. But hearing Snorkmaiden call him handsome was different. Coming from her, it was a real compliment.

The patting paw at his back became a full one-armed hug. “Feeling better now?” she asked, holding him snug to her fluffy side.

In all honesty, he did. He nodded, not ready to look up, and answered instead with a soft purr.

She giggled. “Please don’t take offense to this, but I think your purring is terribly sweet.”

What a very remarkable creature Snorkmaiden was. How very lucky he was to have a friend like her. So clever, and kind, and supportive, and warm, and soft, and fragrant… The mumrik’s purr rumbled louder. Eyes closed, he unconsciously nuzzled deeper into her creamy fur and took a breath. Beneath the smells of powder, rose water, and pelt shampoo was her own unique scent. Then, beneath that, an even deeper and richer smell: Moomintroll, and a heady musk that smelled of them both.

The baser parts of Snufkin’s brain sat up and took immediate notice. His tail bristled with interest. Without thinking, he pressed even closer and breathed deeper to chase that wonderful scent. Snorkmaiden let out a quiet ‘eep!’ of surprise as his warm breath spread through her suddenly pink-tinged fur.

The nearly-forgotten dream he’d had that morning suddenly rushed back with the force of a gale wind. Snufkin gasped and pulled back, tail stiff with panic as he backpedaled. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

A paw shot out and caught him by the sleeve before he could flee forever. “You don’t have to apologize for getting cuddly, Snufkin. We’re friends, remember? And I happen to like cuddles. I was just surprised, is all. That’s a tickly spot.”

“Yes. Right. Of course.” He fidgeted nonetheless, straightening his coat nervously. “I should be going.”

Seeming to know that a Snufkin about to take flight could not be detained, Snorkmaiden gave a resigned sigh and placed his hat back onto his head. “Right. Well, I hope I was able to help you at least a bit.”

“You did. You absolutely did. Thank you.” He pushed himself up from the floor. As he offered a paw to help Snorkmaiden to her feet, he suddenly remembered. “Oh. If it’s not too much trouble… do you think you could spare a bit of cooking oil?”

“Yes, of course. We have plenty. Let me see if I can find you a little bottle.” Snorkmaiden brushed off her fur and began to sort through the cabinets. Glass containers tinkled against one another. “About how much do you need?” She held up a small bottle with a cork and an empty jam jar. “Something like this, or more like…” Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Wait a tick. This oil is going to be used for cooking, right?”

Caught in her knowing stare like a vandal in the beam of a park keeper’s lantern, Snufkin felt his tail tuft puff with guilt. He flushed deeply and said nothing.

“Ah, I see. Well, good on you for thinking ahead, but you won’t need it.” She put the bottles neatly back into the cabinet. “As I told Moomintroll earlier, I’m going to make a batch of something for you two that will be much better. I know your paws aren’t used to being furry just yet, but spilling oil all over them now that they are would be a special misery. Trust me, I know.”

“Thank you, Snorkmaiden,” he managed, still blushing. “That’s very kind.”

“A Snork must look out for others. Especially those she cares about the most.” Radiating conviction, she pulled a worn notebook down from a shelf of cookbooks; no doubt where she had been copying down the Moomin family’s recipes and home remedies. “Off you get, then. I’ll bring it ‘round tomorrow morning, so make sure you don’t disappear with Moomintroll before I get there.”

If Snufkin couldn’t help but wrap her in one last furtive hug before darting out the door, he chose to blame it entirely on those dratted pre-season hormones.

- // - // - // - // -

Snufkin drifted back toward Moominhouse with the scent of Snorkmaiden clinging stubbornly to his coat. His tail flicked with the nervous energy of a dragonfly pursuing mosquitoes.

The situation was becoming so dire it was almost laughable. Apparently now he couldn’t even receive a hug from one of his closest friends without descending into lechery. He would absolutely, positively need to sleep alone that night. With the way his instincts were steadily dragging him toward wanton promiscuity there was no way he could chance sleeping in his boyfriend’s bed. If he couldn’t even control his impulses around Snorkmaiden, how could he be trusted to contain himself next to Moomintroll?

I may as well fling off my trousers and flop down in front of them with a sign that says ‘please make use of me,’ he groaned to himself in an inner voice that sounded a lot like Moomintroll when he was feeling particularly dramatic. Then he had to chuckle ruefully at the ridiculous mental image.

If only such a thought weren’t as strangely tempting as it was foolish…

In a desperate effort to remove his mind from the rubbish bin, Snufkin foraged his way home. His head didn’t completely empty of thoughts of fuzzy kisses and whatever Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden must have gotten up to that afternoon to make her smell so enticing, but his upturned hat slowly filled with an assortment of mushrooms and early green eatables. By the time he arrived back at the footbridge, evening was setting in.

Moomintroll, who must have been spying from the windows, ran down from the house almost at once. “Snufkin, hi!”

The vagabond’s tail wagged instant welcome even as he tried not to blush. “Good evening, Moomintroll. How are you?”

“Never better!” The troll happily followed Snufkin across the bridge to his campsite. “I’m all packed up and ready to go. Well, almost. Snorkmaiden is going to bring us some… supplemental supplies in the morning.”

Snufkin gave a gentle snort of amusem*nt at the wording. “Yes, she told me. I found myself visiting her this afternoon as well.” Placing his salad-laden hat aside, he began to rebuild the campfire. Perhaps some pan-seared mushrooms would catch the fancy of his wan appetite.

“Oh, really?” Moomintroll’s ears perked in surprise. “You and I must have passed each other coming and going.” Waving it off almost immediately, he made himself at home on one of the log seats. “Did you have a good visit? Talk about anything interesting?”

On his knees beside the fire ring Snufkin paused, a piece of wood in either paw. “… carrots.”

Moomintroll’s head tilted bemusedly. “You and Snorkmaiden talked about carrots?”

He couldn’t help but laugh anew. “We discussed them extensively, as a matter of fact. It was terribly interesting.” Warmth filled him that had nothing to do with the infant fire as he realized that it had been the most fun he and Snorkmaiden had had together in years. “Have I told you recently that your girlfriend is quite a remarkable Snork?”

“Isn’t she?” The Moomin smiled dreamily. “Even more so than I thought, apparently, if she can make a conversation about carrots interesting—Snufkin, really, what’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, Moomee,” he laughed, brushing off the knees of his trousers as he stood. “I think perhaps you would have had to be there to understand.”

Moomintroll crossed his arms with mock severity. “It sounds an awful lot like my girlfriend and my boyfriend are sharing inside jokes and I’m on the outside. Pretty unfair, I’d say.” The fond grin fighting to creep across his muzzle gave away the poor charade. “I’m glad you two are happy spending more time with each other again. I did kind of miss all of us doing things together.”

“So did I. Even if I didn’t quite realize it.” Snufkin settled onto the log beside him with a content sigh. “Which reminds me—Little My has agreed to leave us be for a few days. And somehow I agreed to a friend-group sailing excursion. I hope Moominpappa is alright with us taking the Adventure out or I’m likely to get my tail bitten.”

“Oh, fun!” Moomintroll wiggled excitedly. “You know Pappa won’t mind, as long as he doesn’t already have plans to sail. And Mamma was quite cross the last time he disappeared without warning, so we should know in advance if he’s up to anything.”

“They really should have known better than to depend on Uncle Muddler to remember to leave the note,” Snufkin agreed.

During the summers their fathers still liked to hare off on the occasional spontaneous adventure together reminiscent of their bachelor days at sea; something their wives heartily approved of. Unlike the Mymble, however, who was so absentminded she rarely noticed when the Joxter was suddenly gone for a week, Moominmamma and Fuzzy did like to be informed before their menfolk departed.

Mumrik and Moomin relaxed side by side, their tails crossed companionably as they chatted idly and lapsed quiet to listen to the evening birdsong by turns. Snufkin leaned unconsciously against his boyfriend’s side. A warm, white arm tucked obligingly around him. The skyline slowly turned pink and orange. After some time, the door opened up at Moominhouse.

“Almost time for dinner, son!” Moominpappa shouted from the verandah. “And of course Snufkin too, if he likes.”

“Coming, Pappa!” he called. As the older troll disappeared back into the house, Moomintroll turned to Snufkin. “Want to join us? No pressure.”

Snufkin realized abruptly that in his preoccupation with cuddling up to Moomintroll, he had forgotten to prepare a meal of his own. He mentally boxed his own ears. At least there couldn’t be any harm in having dinner with his boyfriend, even if he couldn’t spend the night with him. “Perhaps I will. I’ve got some greens and mushrooms to share.”

“I bet Moominmamma would love that alongside the omelets. We’ve gone through most of the dandelions and things close to the house.”

They walked up the path carrying Snufkin’s hat between them like a basket. Moominmamma relieved them of it while they went to wash their paws, and Snufkin found it, empty of salad, on the back of his chair at the table when they came back downstairs.

It proved quite a cozy dinner. The muskrat was (for once) more awake than asleep and able to add to the conversation in his own philosophical way. Little My, in as agreeable a mood as she ever was, only heaved one loud sigh of resigned disgust when she came to the table and walked past her brother’s tail firmly intertwined with Moomintroll’s between their chairs.

After the dishes had been cleared away, everyone wandered to their own pursuits. The muskrat shuffled off sleepily to bed. Moominmamma set to work baking a batch of rye bread from the dough she had started that morning, but not before sending Moominpappa up to his study to write a letter to Muddler and Fuzzy about the quickly approaching spring party.

Snufkin found himself seated on the verandah railing in the cool night air, Moomintroll by his side. A half-moon was on the rise. The troll leaned on the railing next to him, one paw cupped affectionately over the toe of the vagabond’s boot as they watched the stars.

The screen door banged as Little My trotted out with the tiny lantern the Snork had made especially for her several birthdays past. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you two lovelorn fools tomorrow.”

“Where are you heading off to so late?” Moomintroll asked in surprise.

“Over to my sister’s place.” She adjusted the lantern’s golden glow innocently. “Would you believe that a little bird told me Too-Ticky is spending the night with her, too? Complete coincidence.”

Snufkin frowned deeply at her. “Little My…”

“Why do you always have to assume I’m up to no good?” she demanded.

“Because you usually are up to no good.”

The small mymble huffed. “For your information, Too-Ticky is one of the few other creatures with common sense in this valley, and I hardly ever get to visit with her. She’s almost as elusive as you are—or at least, as elusive as you used to be.” With a very pointed look up at him, she descended the steps. Her lantern bobbled off down the path into the dark.

“I’d tell her to be careful the Groke doesn’t gobble her, but if the Groke has any sense she’s more afraid of Little My than the other way around,” Moomintroll muttered.

Smiling fondly, Snufkin reached out to stroke his snout. “Little My certainly is a very unique mymble.”

“Yes, your family seems to be full of those,” the troll agreed. His smiling muzzle nuzzled into Snufkin’s paw. “Want to come up to my room and have some tea and dessert? Mamma’s got a nice chamomile blend that would go with those tarts she made yesterday. Pappa was marauding in the pantry earlier, so I hid the last two in my desk.”

Snufkin’s mouth was already open to gladly accept the invitation when he realized the trap Moomintroll had unwittingly set. “I’m afraid not, Moomee. Not this evening.”

His boyfriend’s ears drooped, unable to hide his disappointment. “Oh, okay.”

“It’s not because I don’t want to,” Snufkin reassured quickly. “I really do. But I think it’s best if I stay in my tent tonight.” He smoothed the fur between those little white ears with a gently teasing smile. “I’m sure its feelings will be hurt if I keep foregoing it for your bed. If I go upstairs with you, I don’t trust myself to come back down again.”

“I could sleep out here with you, then?” Moomintroll proposed hopefully. He stepped closer, snout landing on Snufkin’s shoulder as he enjoyed the attention.

Oh, but it was tempting. The troll’s warm fluff pressed against Snufkin’s chest as he leaned in. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Moomintroll’s neck and draw him closer as soft fur tickled his ear and cheek. “It’s terribly difficult to say no to you, you know.”

“I know,” Moomintroll agreed readily. Pale fur seemed to glow with moonbeams. Loving blue eyes sparkled with starshine. His tail wagged with a complete lack of repentance.

Snufkin’s higher thought processes took an unauthorized holiday in the presence of such a lovely creature in his arms. It would be so easy for them to slip away to his tent in the darkness, spend another wonderful night warm and content in one another’s embrace. And if more kisses just happened to be had, or paws just happened to wander, or clothing just happened to be lost, who would they disturb, really?

Mymble resolve wavered. Mumrik stubbornness dug in its heels.

“You’re a menace, you villain,” he accused weakly, pulling back to poke the Moomin’s ample snoot with one finger. “Surely you will survive one night without me.”

Moomintroll giggled helplessly, but took a merciful step back. “Sorry, Snuf. I’ll let you be. I suppose I’m just terribly excited and it’s making me silly.”

“I assure you, you aren’t the only one.” Snufkin’s paws moved without his conscious consent, combing through the troll’s thick chest fur. “I ought to make myself scarce before I change my mind.”

“Yeah, probably.” Moomintroll’s ears perked hopefully. “One last hug?”

Snufkin nearly toppled off the railing in his haste to open his arms. One positive about his tail being so much longer; it certainly did aid in balancing. Moomintroll squeezed his more slender form tightly, clearly making the most of this final hug of the evening. His snout nuzzled back into the curve between Snufkin’s neck and shoulder, fitting like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

Quiet purrs filled the verandah. Snufkin was beginning to think that perhaps they could simply spend the night right there, just like that, when Moomintroll tipped his head. His lips met the soft skin between the base of Snufkin’s ear and the place where the fabric of his scarf began. It was the gentlest of pecks, but all at once Snufkin’s stomach swooped as if he’d stepped off a cliff with the Snork’s glider. Frozen where he sat, the vagabond uttered a soft, witless squeak. Electric shivers chased their way down his spine to the tip of his tail. The fur all over his body stood up like a swarm of hattifatteners straining toward the lightning.

“There. A little goodnight kiss.” Oblivious to the fact that he had just incited open rebellion among Snufkin’s nerve endings, Moomintroll smiled and stepped away to return indoors. “Sleep well, Snufkin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I love you,” Snufkin blurted. “Goodnight.” He swung himself hurriedly over the verandah rail, nearly falling on his face in the grass as he did so, and dashed in the direction of the stream with his boyfriend’s happy call of ‘I love you too!’ ringing in his burning ears.

Chapter 11: A slight change of plans

Chapter Text

Snufkin tossed and turned in his tent. His coat and scarf had long since been discarded in a corner next to his boots and hat. Still he was so warm that he had to resist the urge to kick off his bedroll, as well. Unseasonably warm for April, he thought blearily, sticking a fuzzy foot out one side and his tail out the other.

Since fleeing the verandah he had been unable to settle. Perhaps that was the root of his problem; such vigorous exercise directly before disappearing into his tent for the night. Perhaps he should have sat on the bridge for a bit and played a soft song on his mouth organ first. Perhaps he should have built the fire back up and watched the dancing flames to relax. Perhaps he should stop thinking about Moomintroll’s mouth touching his neck.

The vagabond rolled over with a groan and pulled the blanket over his head. One more night. Just one more night, Snufkin. You can make it.

A potent co*cktail of anticipation and nerves made him shiver. The fur rose along his arms. While the idea of facing the full effects of his first ever seasonal cycle was much less petrifying now that he knew how enthusiastic a participant Moomintroll was going to be, doubts still crept in to temper his excitement. What if, despite Snorkmaiden’s assurances, he was so bad at sex that Moomintroll did get upset? His fluffy friends seemed to have no trouble pleasuring one another, but what if trolls were just naturally gifted at pleasing other trolls and Snufkin lacked that innate ability? Perhaps he should have asked Snorkmaiden for some kind of demonstration after all (even if it included carrots).

The thought triggered an immediate flood of scandalous imaginings. Snorkmaiden demonstrating exactly what do with a very willing and wanting Moomintroll as Snufkin watched with bated breath and racing heart. The two of them looking at him with desire in their eyes before beckoning him to join them. Snorkmaiden’s silky snout against his ear, whispering words of reassurance and encouragement, one paw warm against his chest and the other at the waist of his trousers. Moomintroll’s bulky form at his back, soft but firm, holding him tightly—

Snufkin’s tail jerked as his hips rolled softly into the bedroll.

“Oh, this is beyond ridiculous,” he groaned disbelievingly into his pillow. If he didn’t get some sort of relief soon he was liable to go completely out of his mind. Thank goodness that up until now his indecent thoughts had only strayed so far as to include Snorkmaiden and none of their other friends or acquaintances.

In a last-ditch effort to keep from plunging his paws into his trousers, he kicked off the blanket and fought his way out of the tent. Surely a few breaths of fresh air would help him cool down and keep his head. He staggered out, nearly tripping over the tent flap, and peered about. He had no idea how long he had been tossing and turning, but the moon had risen quite high. The cold night air felt divine on his flushed face. Idly flipping the hem of his smock up and down to circulate some of that lovely coolness beneath it, he looked out across the stream.

All but three windows at Moominhouse were dark and still. A soft glow came from the kitchen, where he guessed that Moominmamma was probably finishing up the next day’s baking. A light was on in the room Snufkin knew was Moominpappa’s study; not unusual, as the older Moomin often chased his muse late into the wee hours when he was feeling particularly inspired. And there, at the top of the house, a light burned warmest and most welcoming of all: the lantern in Moomintroll’s bedroom.

A sharp jolt of longing ran through the vagabond. His smock dropped from his paws. Quite before he realized it, his bare feet were carrying him onto the footbridge. Things suddenly seemed oddly off kilter, nearly dreamlike. Perhaps he was dreaming. That could be the only logical explanation for why he found himself running over the lawn in the dark without boots, hat, scarf or coat and climbing the rope ladder to Moomintroll’s room with single-minded purpose.

If we’re both still awake anyhow, what’s the use in being awake alone? We can sit and talk. His thoughts flitted, hummingbird-quick, to just where and how he would prefer to talk: curled in Moomintroll’s soft bed, Moomintroll’s warm arms around him, their words mere whispers in the scant air between their mouths before he leaned in to bridge the distance—

One bootless foot, damp with dew, slipped off the rung in his jittery haste to ascend. The rope ladder swung, bumping him firmly against the side of the house with an awkward thump. Snufkin let out a squeak of surprise and tightened his paws, quickly righting himself and hurriedly (if a bit more carefully) resuming his climb.

The rush he was in seemed to make the long ladder even longer than usual. When he reached the top and finally lifted his head above the windowsill, it was with a surge of triumph. Then Snufkin lost track of every one of his thoughts for a moment, because there, suddenly, almost within his reach, was Moomintroll. His Moomintroll. White fur glowed softly in the lantern light as the Moomin held up two well-loved blankets, one draped over either arm, studying them critically by turns as if inspecting priceless Persian rugs at some faraway bazaar.

The mumrik leaned forward in such a daze that he actually bumped his fuzzy nose against the glass. Giving himself a shake, he laid a paw urgently against the windowpane. “Moomintroll!”

At the soft but insistent ‘pap pap’ sound, the troll raised his head. A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by one of pure happiness. He draped the blankets over the side of the bed and crossed the floor eagerly. “Snufkin! I thought you were sleeping alone tonight.” The window was opened without hesitation. “Did you change your mind?”

Snufkin scrambled in. It took an inordinate amount of effort to put his feet on the floor and not simply launch himself at Moomintroll directly from the windowsill, but he managed. (Pouncing upon a creature like that in their own bedroom seemed terribly rude.)

Moomintroll, who had stepped back a bit to allow him room to come inside, took a closer look at the vagabond and blinked a double take. “Where are your boots? And your hat, and your coat?”

“In my tent.”

“Uh, okay. Aren’t you cold?”

Dear Moomintroll. Dear, sweet, caring Moomintroll, worrying about his well-being, looking so soft and warm and welcoming, smelling so wonderful… “No, not at all,” Snufkin answered honestly, a purr already bubbling in his throat as he edged nearer. “I’m quite warm, actually.”

“You do look a bit flushed.” A big, white paw reached up to gently cup his cheek as he came close enough. Concern was clear in his boyfriend’s eyes. “I hope you don’t have a fever. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Absolutely sure,” Snufkin tried to affirm, but somehow he found that the words came out muffled by Moomin fur. In fact, his entire face was suddenly buried in the troll’s chest fluff.

“Oh!” Moomintroll let out a surprised giggle. “Hey, that tickles.” His arms came up immediately to wrap around Snufkin, holding him to his warm chest. His chin settled affectionately on top of a messy mop of auburn hair. “What was somebody saying earlier about surviving one night without each other?” he teased.

Snufkin merely purred louder in answer. Clearly he had been delusional when he said such a foolish thing. Completely out of his head. Surely he would not have survived another minute longer without this splendid creature’s affections. He wrapped his arms around the Moomin in turn, paws kneading the plush fur of his back. His small fangs combed carefully through white fluff, grooming and nipping gently.

Moomintroll sucked in a surprised gasp at the little tugs. “Ah! S-snufkin…?”

“Mmm?” Snufkin purred, nuzzling the spot he had lovingly nipped.

“You know, I don’t believe you’re sick at all, actually,” Moomintroll said slowly, tail wagging in thought just above the floorboards as he looked down at Snufkin.

“No, of course not,” the vagabond agreed. “I feel wonderful. I always feel wonderful when I’m with you.” He promptly put his face back into that thicket of wonderfully soft fluff to prove his point.

“What I mean is,” Moomintroll managed to say through another bout of giggles, “I think maybe you’re all hot and flustered and clingy because your seasonal cycle’s started. The actual cycle part, not just the pre-season bit.”

It was enough to make Snufkin pause, and he took a moment to consider the evidence. He was indeed abnormally hot, flustered, and clinging to Moomintroll like a co*cklebur to a woolen sock. His tail had twined itself firmly around the troll’s knee. He felt a keen temptation to loop his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and wrap his legs around his waist like the koala bears in Moominpappa’s atlas of animals from around the world. He blinked. “Oh. I believe you might be right.”

The realization was somehow not as alarming as he had anticipated.

“Thought so.” Moomintroll’s arms remained around him, snug and grounding. “So I guess the question is, what do you want to do about it? I’m fine with whatever you decide. Do we try to stick to the plan and wait, get up early and leave tomorrow morning, or—”

The thought of separating from Moomintroll now, of waiting until the next day to touch and be touched in return, was incomprehensibly dreadful. Snufkin tipped his head back with a sad, urgent little sound and lunged up for an open-mouthed mymble kiss. Moomintroll’s little ears shot up in surprise. He rallied admirably, however, meeting Snufkin halfway. A paw buried itself in the hair at the back of Snufkin’s neck, holding him softly, gentle and encouraging. Every fiber of the mumrik’s being purred in absolute rightness.

Snufkin lost track of how long they stood there in the middle of the troll’s bedroom (time was inconsequential when one was doing something as important as kissing the love of one’s life, he was discovering). However, eventually Moomintroll must have developed a bit of a kink in the neck from keeping his head at an angle that made mymble-kissing around his large snout possible. Snufkin, thoroughly preoccupied by said kissing, didn’t notice the paws slowly migrating down his back until they cupped underneath his tail and lifted.

“Oh!” he exclaimed in surprise, instinctively tightening his arms around his boyfriend’s neck as his feet left the floor.

“Shall we move this somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Moomintroll asked rather huskily, bumping their noses together affectionately. “If you’re saying you’ve decided to stay the night after all, that is.”

The paws securely gripping his rump knocked all the words out of Snufkin’s head like clattering billiard balls. A variety of positive, highly approving noises left his throat instead. He managed to nod emphatic consent. Then all he could do was cling and squirm, purring needily as Moomintroll began to carry him toward the bed.

It would have been a terribly suave and romantic moment had Snufkin’s insistence on getting their mouths back together not forced Moomintroll to keep his nose pointed nearly at the ceiling. Unbalanced, blinkered by the roundness of his snout, he tripped over his own feet. They landed on the edge of the mattress with a squeal of bedsprings and slid straight to the floor with a loud thump. The blankets Moomintroll had discarded on the edge of the bed slithered down on top of them.

Giddy and elated, Snufkin tried to muffle his laughter in the troll’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. It seems as though you’re simply fated to end up knocked to the floor in these situations.” At least there had been no dressing tables at hand this time.

Ears and snout red, Moomintroll nonetheless had to stifle helpless laughter of his own. “I suppose that’s what I get for trying grand romantic gestures. Should’ve learned my lesson the first time.”

“Well, I am awfully glad you didn’t.” The floor being just as good as the bed, the vagabond quickly insinuated his paws back into Moomintroll’s fluff and himself on top of his boyfriend’s soft, warm bulk. He nuzzled his face along Moomintroll’s sensitive snout as his hips began to shift, unimpeded by the blankets tangled atop them.

“Ah! Wait, Snuf,” Moomintroll panted, though his own hips rose instinctively and his paws remained glued to Snufkin’s bottom. “Let’s get back up—”

A firm knock on the door froze them both in place. “Is everything alright in there, son? That was quite the thud I heard down in the study. Sounded like someone dropped a rhinoceros on the ceiling.”

Moomintroll’s ears flattened in panic. He sat up quickly, dislodging Snufkin from his sprawl across his round tummy. Snufkin, in turn, let out an involuntary “ah!” of surprised pleasure as he slid down the troll’s front with a very pleasant kind of friction and landed in his lap. A big white paw shot up at once to cover his mouth.

“We—I’m fine, Pappa! Nothing to worry about! I just, uh… fell out of bed again.”

“Oh? I thought we got you past all that,” Moominpappa mused curiously. Mercifully, the doorknob remained unturned. “Ah well. At least we Moomins always have somewhere soft to land. Sleep well, son. See you in the morning.”

The floorboards creaked gently as the older troll moved off down the hall. Shortly thereafter, the squeaky stairs heralded his descent back to the study. Moomintroll let out a shaky breath of relief.

Snufkin’s paws wrapped around the one still covering his lips and held it as he giggled. He kissed the soft pink pad of it, then darted his tongue over it in a loving lick. “That was very smooth, Moomintroll.”

“Oh, hush,” Moomintroll groaned playfully. “You were no help whatsoever.” Retrieving his paw, he scooped Snufkin up under the arms and stood, taking the mumrik along with him. “And that is why we’re leaving the house before we go any further.”

The purr that had begun to rumble as Snufkin was so easily lifted in his boyfriend’s arms cut out at once when he was placed back on his feet. “Leave? What? Now?”

“And also tomorrow, like we planned, but yes, now. At least at night no one will come looking for us if we go to your tent.”

Snufkin’s tail twitched worriedly at the prospect of halting their amorous intentions yet again. “No, no, but—here.” He took Moomintroll by the wrist and tugged helpfully in the direction of the bed. “Here is fine. Where we already are.”

The Moomin’s blue eyes were wide with a combination of incredulity and barely restrained amusem*nt. “Wow, your dad wasn’t kidding when he said mumriks lose their common sense during a cycle. Do you really want everyone in the house to know what we’re doing up here?”

Skating over the thinly veiled fun being poked at him, Snufkin pressed himself to his boyfriend’s side with a moue that might not have been entirely fair, making sure that Moomintroll could feel the proof of his need quite clearly through fur and trousers. “We can be quiet.”

“Not quiet enough,” the troll argued, though his gaze darted surreptitiously downward toward the obvious hardness nudging his thigh. “I don’t want to spend the whole of our first time worried about not making any noise.” He tipped his head, nuzzling the vagabond’s cheek tenderly. “I like your voice. I want to be able to hear it.”

At the soft admission Snufkin nearly went weak in the knees. Oh, how was he to survive if Moomintroll continued to say such things? He threw his arms back around the troll’s neck and went up on his toes for the kiss such a splendid creature so obviously deserved. Moomintroll caught Snufkin’s face gently but firmly in his paws, squishing his cheeks and stopping the kiss before it could land.

“Mmmrph!” Snufkin uttered indignantly.

“Hey, hey. Just a moment.” Moomintroll had the nerve to laugh quietly, but the love overflowing from his smile made that easy for Snufkin to forgive. “I’m going to give you everything you need,” he promised, soft and warm and making Snufkin shudder, “everything you could possibly want. But the condition is: tent. We have to make it to your tent first. Deal?”

The other side of the stream seemed an unholy far distance (as far as the moon, or maybe Jupiter) but if that was what it took to get Moomintroll’s paws under his clothes then so be it. Snufkin peeled himself painfully away from his partner like package tape off fur, feeling instantly cold and bereft. “Yes. Alright. Let’s go.”

Thankfully, his wonderful, clever Moomintroll did not make him wait. Striding over to the table where the lamp stood, he turned the wick down until the flame winked out and left the room in shadow and pale moonlight. Snufkin was already out the window, peering back anxiously from the top of the rope ladder to make sure that he was being followed.

“Right behind you,” Moomintroll assured, swinging a foot over the sill.

Snufkin began to climb down. His descent was sidetracked as furry white feet lowered into his field of vision, toes poking carefully about for the next rung. How had he never noticed what fine legs Moomintroll had? So sturdy and firm and nip-able, just like the rest of him. Without thinking any more about it, he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against one approvingly.

Moomintroll shut the window with a startled bang at the surprise touch. He glanced down warningly. “If we fall from here and I land on you, I guarantee you it will ruin any chance you have of feeling nice tonight. And possibly ever.”

At least if he died under Moomintroll he would perish happy. Snufkin bit his lip to keep the indecent comment at bay and offered up only a sheepish smile of apology.

They bent earnestly to the task of getting to the ground. The troll’s own excitement was beginning to bleed through, however, as he himself slipped up halfway down and made them both yip in surprise as he caught himself again and clung tightly to the swaying ropes.

“You’d think by now I’d be able to get down this ladder in my sleep,” he snorted bashfully through his laughter.

Snufkin batted teasingly at the white tail tuft dangling just within reach. “Yes, it’s almost as though you’re distracted by something. Whatever could such a thing be?”

“Oh, yes, I do wonder.” The fond eye roll was nearly audible.

At last, eternities later, Snufkin’s bare feet touched the grass. He skirted nimbly to the side to allow Moomintroll to jump down. They paused for just a moment to silently regard one another, moonlight reflecting from Snufkin’s eyes and Moomintroll’s bright fur before, as one, each grabbed for the other’s paw. Then they were trying in vain to smother breathless laughter as they dashed across the lawn toward the streambank and their next grand adventure together.

- // - // - // - // -

The rye was cooling on the sideboard by the time Moominpappa returned to the kitchen. Moominmamma had moved on to washing up the dinner dishes in the sink, as the muskrat hadn’t predicted any good dishes-washing rain for several days yet and they were running short on plates.

She raised a gentle eyebrow at her husband as he collected the newspaper from the counter nearby. “Have you been writing that letter all this time?”

“You know me too well, my dear; once I began catching old Muddler up on the happenings of the season, I just kept finding more amusing tales to tell him. My pen has always been rather verbose. Not to worry—it shouldn’t take more than three or four extra stamps to post this time.”

“Oh, good. Sniff did his annual sofa cushion coin dive last week, so I’m afraid we’re a bit cleaned out for stamp money.” She rinsed the loaf pan and set it carefully on a towel to dry. “I’ve been thinking we could use the silverware for a change, and the nice china. For the spring party. The bluebell pattern will be just the thing. Mymble’s little ones can use the everyday spoons and dishes.”

“An excellent plan, my dear.” Newspaper in paw, he nuzzled her cheek on the way to the table. “You always know how to make an occasion special.”

“Do you remember the last time we polished the silverware?” Moominmamma asked.

Moominpappa rubbed his chin in thought. “Now that you mention it, I think maybe the last time I saw the silverware at all was when Misabelle…”

She folded her paws gravely, soap suds and all. “Ah, yes. I’ll pull it all out and take stock of the casualties in the morning.”

“Between the two of us, we’ll have it looking spiffy again in no time. Even Mrs. Fillyjonk would approve by the time we’re finished.” Content with the battle plan, he settled at the table and unfolded the paper.

Companionable quiet descended. Moominmamma hummed softly as she washed and rinsed. The newspaper rustled as pages turned. The clock on the wall ticked gentle time.

“Our house is far too quiet,” Moominpappa finally said, lowering the paper to cast an incredulous glance at the ceiling. “It’s unnatural. Where is Little My? I do like to know when she’s up to something.”

“She’s spending the night with Mymble Jr. She said something about Too-Ticky being there this evening and she wanted to cause some mischief.” Moominmamma placed the last dish in the rack by the sink and dried her paws on her apron. “She’ll be back tomorrow morning. I told her to invite the girls to breakfast.” She too glanced up. “The muskrat is in bed. Moomintroll and Snufkin were here after dinner, but I’m not sure where they’ve gone. It is very quiet suddenly.”

Satisfied, Moominpappa folded his newspaper. “Oh, I’m fairly sure our boys are down by the stream deflowering one another, if what I overheard before they nearly fell down the rope ladder is any indication. Ah, the vivacity of youth.”

“Oh, my.” Moominmamma’s apron fell from her suddenly still paws. Her wide eyes darted to the kitchen window, into the darkness in the direction of the stream. “Do you think they would be upset if I made a very grand breakfast tomorrow, then? It seems a shame not to celebrate such a special occasion.”

“Now, now, Mamma, don’t embarrass them. But I certainly wouldn’t say no to some eggs benedict.”

- // - // - // - // -

For all that Moomintroll was the tallest of their group of friends nowadays (the added height of Sniff’s ears notwithstanding), he still possessed his species’ short legs. Running was consequently not one of his stronger suits. They were almost to the footbridge when he tripped.

Snufkin, who had been darting about playfully just out of reach and thrilling every time reaching fingers grazed his paws or sleeves, skidded to a stop as the troll went down with a shout and rolled over the lip of the streambank. He ran to the brink and looked down, fully expecting his poor friend to be flailing in the chilly water. “Moomintroll!”

Luckily, Moomintroll had managed to avoid such an uncomfortable fate. He lay sprawled on his back with all four limbs outstretched, clinging to the grass just a few paces short of the water. He raised his head, ruffled and a trifle muddy but mercifully un-dunked. “I’m okay!”

With a sigh of relief, Snufkin slid down the embankment. “Oh, I’m glad. That was quite a spill.” Trolls, being so round, had an unfortunate tendency to gather momentum on downward slopes. Reaching the other’s side, he bent over him with concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

A mischievous grin was all the warning the vagabond received before he was caught firmly and pulled down next to his boyfriend. “Got you!” Moomintroll laughed as they rolled in the grass, hugging Snufkin tightly in his victory. “You’re far too difficult to catch.”

“It’s hardly my fault that you were never much good at playing tag,” Snufkin sassed with a grin of his own, readily returning the surprise embrace. Worry had momentarily overwhelmed his excitement, but as warm fur pressed against him he gave in to the need to cling close once more. “You are so terribly soft, Moomintroll,” he sighed happily.

The troll’s breath hitched as Snufkin’s head butted lovingly under his chin. “I’m—I’m glad you like that I’m soft.”

“You are the softest, handsomest creature I’ve ever seen,” Snufkin confided honestly. Snorkmaiden, while equally soft, was not exactly handsome, and so had to be given the distinction of loveliest creature he had ever seen instead. (His sister Mymble, while undoubtedly beautiful, did not count.)

Apparently it was the right thing to say, for a moment later Moomintroll was leaning over him, soft snout feverishly nuzzling Snufkin’s face and neck as his heavier form pressed the mumrik’s overheated body to the cool earth. Snufkin clung closer and arched his hips into that welcome weight with a gasp of relief.

“Oh, gosh Snufkin, I’m sorry,” the troll muttered, breaths panting and unsteady. “I know this is meant to be about you, but I—I’ve wanted this for so long and I never thought it would happen and I just—you don’t know how amazing this is.”

Snufkin rather thought that he did know, but the words to say so were beyond him. Instead he simply purred with all his might and fumbled a paw between them for his trouser buttons. One of Moomintroll’s paws bumped his for an instant as if to offer aid. Then, seeming to realize that he had very little experience with the removal of clothing in general, the paw withdrew to give him space in which to work. By that point Snufkin may as well have had no experience with the removal of clothing himself, for as clumsy as he was and as long as it took him to fight the buttons free. His unwillingness to let go of Moomintroll completely enough to use both paws did not help. But at long last the cruel confines of the trousers were breached, and it was the matter of a moment to tug restricting underpants down. (Moomintroll, clever creature that he was, had no trouble deciphering how to help with that.)

From there it was a simple matter of squirming about enough that their hips aligned, a trifle tricky given the differences in the length of their legs and torsos, but worth the struggle a hundred times over when Moomintroll’s own shaft—hot, hard, damp and ready—slid alongside his own between their bellies. Moomintroll huffed out a deep breath through his nose, pressed tight to Snufkin’s neck, just as Snufkin himself let out a soft, wavering moan.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the whole affair was over quickly. It went by in a blur of soft fur and smooth skin, gasped breaths and breathless endearments, rolling hips and crushed grass. Snufkin found his completion with his head thrown back, Moomintroll’s voice ringing in his ears, unsure whether the bright spots he was seeing were actually stars or just stars in his eyes. Either way, they were lovely.

Moomintroll must have followed his example shortly thereafter, because suddenly he shuddered hard and went still. Then there was a great lump of pale fluff draped heavily on top of the vagabond, panting muzzle resting over his racing heart. Snufkin summoned the wherewithal to release the fistfuls of fur he still held and take a more gentle hold on the troll’s cheeks.

“My goodness,” Snufkin finally muttered, gazing dazedly up at the twinkling sprawl of sky stretched out above them. His toes tingled as if he had trod barefooted on a hattifattener. The tip of his tail twitched haphazardly.

Moomintroll sighed happily, the gust of his breath tickling Snufkin’s chin. “Yes, it was quite a lot of goodness, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll say.”

“Was that alright?” Moomintroll asked softly. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, of course!” Snufkin hastened to assure, petting his boyfriend’s soft snout. “More than.” Later he would undoubtedly fret over the complete lack of finesse he had displayed, and the chilly location on the streambank, and the fact that he distinctly felt a twig caught in Moomintroll’s tumble-messy fur (which he helpfully plucked out). Just now, his brain was far too preoccupied with soaking in a warm bath of satisfied mumrik hormones.

They lay for a while simply basking in one another’s pleasant warmth. Comforted by the grounding weight atop him, surrounded by the scents of Moomin and fresh grass and damp earth, Snufkin was sure he dozed off for at least a moment. Then he was being gently nudged back to alertness.

“If we don’t move now we’ll definitely fall asleep here,” Moomintroll explained apologetically. He pulled away slowly and sat up, taking the paws that reflexively reached out to keep him close in his own. “It will be much more dry and comfortable in your tent. Which…” he glanced across the water at the shadow that was Snufkin’s tent as he tugged his boyfriend upright, “we almost made it to.”

“I’m sure that counts for something.” Snufkin gently patted his furry haunch. “Alright. I suppose we should tidy up a bit, as well.” Blushing in the darkness, he hitched his underpants and trousers as high as the mess on his stomach would allow.

They washed off as well as they could in the stream without getting completely soaked with the cold water. Moomintroll’s fur was a lost cause until daybreak, but strategic areas were scrubbed until they were, at the very least, no longer sticky. Snufkin spared a longing thought for the steaming waters of the hot spring as he shook frigid drops from his paws and did up his trousers.

“Brrr.” The troll shook himself thoroughly, a rain of droplets pattering on the grass. “Let’s hurry and get inside. Your toes must be frozen.”

Snufkin curled them thoughtfully in the grass. Now that he thought of it, they were a bit chilly despite their new coating of fur. Burying them in warm Moomin leg fluff did suddenly seem like a superb idea.

They crossed the bridge lightly, paw in paw, mischief successfully carried out. There was much giggling and playful nudging and some sly nuzzling as they fit themselves into the tent and buried themselves under Snufkin’s bedroll for a well-earned rest.

Moomintroll gathered him close at once, chin tucked almost protectively over the top of Snufkin’s head. “Are you comfortable, Snuf? Are you warm enough? Do you feel any better?”

The vagabond heaved a deep, thoroughly contented sigh into his boyfriend’s fluffy chest. “So very comfortable. And so much better. I think I may sleep as soundly as a hibernating Moomin.”

The troll’s fur fluffed in pleasure at the affirmations. “Oh, good. I’m glad.” His soft snout nuzzled Snufkin’s hopelessly tousled hair. “Sweet dreams, Snufkin. Love you.”

“Love you, Moomee,” he purred drowsily, paws kneading softly as his tail looped affectionately around Moomintroll’s own.

For the first time in weeks, impending dread fully lost the battle to anticipation for the coming day. A nice hike into the mountains, with Moomintroll. A little camping trip, just he and Moomintroll. Relaxing in the hot spring, with Moomintroll. Further (and, dare he hope it, even better) canoodling, with Moomintroll. Still purring faintly, Snufkin let the happy thoughts carry him off to sleep.

Chapter 12: Departures and introspections

Chapter Text

“Knock, knock!”

A sunny voice tugged Snufkin out of pleasant dreams. He blinked blearily, trying to get his bearings. The interior of his tent, already glowing with morning light, met his perplexed stare. Beside him, almost entirely buried beneath the mumrik’s bedroll, Moomintroll slept obliviously on.

“Snufkin, are you awake? I brought you those ‘special supplies’ I promised.”

Snufkin sat bolt upright in realization. He cast about frantically for his coat and hat, all too aware that he was woefully underdressed in only his trousers and smock. He was also (as had become usual as of late) quite stiff in the trouser department.

Moomintroll was lying on his coat. Snufkin unceremoniously yanked it out from under the dozing troll, who grumbled softly at the disturbance and rolled over in the other direction. Shrugging into his coat without bothering to fasten the top three buttons up the back, hoping desperately that its long length properly covered whatever modesty he might have left to save, Snufkin grabbed for the zipper and popped his head out into the new morning. “Good morning, Snorkmaiden.”

“Oh, Snufkin!” She perked instantly, tail beginning to wave just above the dewy grass. An old satchel, one Snufkin recognized as having once belonged to the Snork, hung over her shoulder. “I was getting worried you’d already gone off to fish. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes. Quite well, actually.” It was not, as such, a lie. Once he had fallen asleep in Moomintroll’s arms he had slept like the dead. Remembering in detail the activities that had so tired them out, he blushed faintly. “Remarkably well. Thank you for asking.”

She giggled, fur tingeing light pink. “Well, it’s a good job you had a good sleep, because today’s the big day!” She clasped her paws and heaved a dreamy sigh. “How very romantic. I’m sure that up in his bedroom, at this very moment, Moomintroll is pacing the floor, consumed with anticipation and long-restrained desire, longing for the moment when—”

There was a rustle and thump from the tent as the troll inside emerged from the cocoon of the bedroll and knocked Snufkin’s pack over. “Hey, is that Snorkmaiden?” Moomintroll’s head and shoulders popped out directly above Snufkin’s, fully unzipping the tent flap. “Hi, Snorkmaiden! You’re looking lovely and pink today.”

“Moomintroll! Well hello, you—eh?” Snorkmaiden’s surprised smile gave way to a confused grimace. “Moomintroll, you’re filthy. You look like you’ve rolled down a hill, you funny thing.”

Snufkin ducked back out of view with a sound that was half laughter, half groan of embarrassment. In the light of day, he could clearly see that the troll’s normally pristine white fur was a veritable carpet of brown earth and green grass stains.

Moomintroll crawled the opposite direction and stood up to give his girlfriend a cheery nuzzle. “I suppose that’s because I did. If the bank counts as a hill.”

“It might as well,” she conceded. Her paws flew into action, patting the dried mud and bits of grass off of him. “Why on earth didn’t you wash up before it set?”

His snout flushed. Stained paws wrung sheepishly. “Well, I would have done, of course, but… Well. Other matters were a bit more pressing at the time. And then we were—I was—quite tired, and so. Yes.”

There was a long pause. Snorkmaiden’s paws slowly migrated from her boyfriend’s slightly neater fur to prop upon her hips in consternation. “Why, you cheeky creatures!” she cried, tone as amused as it was accusing. “You absolutely had a secret midnight rendezvous, didn’t you? So much for your grand romantic getaway.”

“It was entirely my fault,” Snufkin groaned from inside the tent, looping his scarf around his neck and pulling his hat down over his very red ears. “We’re lucky he even managed to convince me to leave Moominhouse first, let alone wait until we were anywhere further than that. I’m afraid being reasonable was not high on my list of priorities last night.”

“Ah, I see.” Snorkmaiden’s smile as the vagabond finally stepped out into the sunlight to join them was teasing, but more than anything it was understanding. “Well, ‘the best laid plans of mice and Moomins,’ as they say. Are you two still heading up the mountain today?”

Moomintroll nodded obliviously. “Oh, yes.”

“Well, get that tail of yours in gear, then!” she exclaimed. “Who knows how long until poor Snufkin falls thrall to his burgeoning passions once again? You should get on the trail immediately. Go wash up and get your pack. Chop, chop.” She grabbed her boyfriend by the shoulders, spun him toward the house, and delivered a firm, encouraging pat to his rump.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” The flustered Moomin went off at a jog like a plump, white pony at the races.

Wide-eyed, Snufkin watched him dash away. “Goodness.”

Snorkmaiden nodded sagely as the troll ran across the verandah and vanished into Moominhouse. “Sometimes he just needs a bit of direction.” Then she turned to Snufkin, paws steepled knowingly. “Now then. Snufkin. There’s just one thing I must ask before you go.”

The mumrik’s tail swished nervously. “What’s that?”

She leaned closer, a glint of mischief in her sparkling brown eyes, and whispered, “Did you take off your hat?”

“Wha—? Yes,” he sputtered, reflexively tugging said hat down with both paws. “I’ll have you know the thought of wearing it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Because it fell off when you rolled down the bank?” she asked innocently.

“Only Moomintroll rolled down the bank!”

Snorkmaiden tried in vain to stifle her merry laughter. “I know, I know—you’re not nearly as grubby as he is. Sorry, I just had to have a bit of fun. It’s so rare to see you flustered; it’s kind of sweet, really.” Before the claim that he was sweet could fluster Snufkin any further, she shrugged off the satchel and pressed it into his paws. “Anyway, here you are.”

Pulling back the flap, Snufkin took stock of the bag’s contents. Two thermoses, a small cloth bag tied neatly with a ribbon, and a variety of parcels wrapped tidily in twine and kitchen paper nestled inside it. “What’s all this?”

“Well, I made you two some biscuits and sandwiches for your hike, and some raspberry juice. The little tin is some mint leaves for tea, so you don’t forget to hydrate. And then of course there’s the lubricant, like I promised,” she said, pointing out one of the thermoses. “The one with the string ‘round it is the juice, so you don’t get them confused.”

“I see.” He quickly shut the satchel, traitorous cheeks reddening yet again. “Do you really think we’ll need that much?”

“Better to have more than you need than need more than you’ve got,” she said sensibly. “Also, I might not have realized exactly how much the recipe would make. There’s still gobs of the stuff left over. I’ll have to find some other use for it.”

The mumrik’s mind immediately supplied a variety of ways in which a pretty Snork could put intimate lubricant to fantastic use. No, no, bad Snufkin! No bad thoughts about Snorkmaiden, he told himself firmly. Oh goodness, where is that Moomintroll?

Luckily, before his body could catch up and advertise his impure thoughts to the world, Snorkmaiden pulled his focus back to earth. “Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way.”

“You don’t want to wait until Moomintroll gets back?” Snufkin asked, surprised.

“I’d only distract him and slow you down. You two should get going while the going’s good, if you don’t want to attract attention.”

The logic was sound. It was already later in the morning than Snufkin would have normally liked when setting out on a long hike. Apparently the key to getting him to sleep past sunrise was a little spontaneous lovemaking before bed.

“Then I suppose I’d best get packing myself,” he said, shouldering the satchel. “Thank you again, Snorkmaiden. For everything.”

She took his paws in hers warmly. “That’s what friends are for. You’d do the same for me.”

He would, in a heartbeat. Before he could think twice about it he was pulling her into a hug. Knowing now that she liked the sound of his purrs, he didn’t hesitate to let them flow unimpeded.

“Good hug,” she laughed, returning the squeeze. “I’m glad we’ve finally managed to win you over on them.”

“Yes, well. I save them for a select few.” The abrupt urge to lean forward and place a mymble kiss on the end of her snout was nearly overwhelming. He quickly took a step back, before he could do something terribly foolish. “Well then. Wish me luck.”

“I would, but you won’t even need it. Ta-ta for now!” With a wave and a last cheerful smile, she was off down the path toward home.

Only when she was far enough away did Snufkin allow himself to relax with a gusty sigh of relief. That had been too close. Determination renewed, he pulled his few possessions out of the tent and began to break camp with brisk efficiency. Hurry up, Moomintroll, he thought, collapsing the tent with one strategic tug of a pole. If you don’t exhaust me enough to wear these horrible hormones out, I’m doomed!

- // - // - // - // -

Once inside the house, Moomintroll snuck straight to the bath. By some miracle he had managed to avoid running into either of his parents, who both seemed to be busy with something or other in the dining room. He had what he was sure was the quickest wash of his life, toweled himself down until he was mostly dry, and ran for the cover of his bedroom.

Everything was just as he had left it the night before, including the blankets they had fallen off of the bed with. Moomintroll chuckled helplessly as he picked them up off the floor. He had been trying to decide which blanket to take along to the hot spring (one was slightly larger, but the other was slightly softer) when the object of his affections had appeared at his window. Let’s just have the blue one. Snufkin certainly won’t care what our blankets look like.

With any luck, he could soon persuade the usually tranquil vagabond not to care about anything at all besides relaxing and feeling nice. Snufkin had been far too tense this spring, and Moomintroll was determined to put that to rights as soon as possible. Never mind that Snufkin was used to living with only the bare necessities; he wanted to spoil his boyfriend a bit, if he could get away with it. It was a shame there had been no way to sneak ahead and make the campsite any comfier, maybe with some pretty flowers or soft pillows or cozy lanterns.

I suppose I could’ve hired Sniff to do it, he thought. Wait, no, I don’t think I’ve got anything shiny enough to pay him off with. Sniff wouldn’t want to hike all that way up there, anyway. Oh well. Moomintroll grabbed his knapsack, which he had thankfully made up the evening before, and tucked the rolled blanket under the top flap. All that was left was to spring the news on his parents. Closing the bedroom door carefully, he went downstairs.

Moominmamma and Moominpappa had set up shop on the dining room table. A wealth of badly abused silverware was strewn before them, sorted into haphazard piles of mangled blades and tines. Moominpappa was busy bending and banging the utensils back into shape. Moominmamma wielded a soft rag and a jar of silver polish.

“Mamma, Pappa?” Moomintroll cleared his throat and poked his head into the room. “Listen, I realize this is a bit short notice, but I’m going on a little trip with Snufkin for a few days. Love you very much, take care while we’re gone, bye-bye now.”

“You mean you’re leaving right this minute?” Moominmamma looked up in surprise before he could hurry away, a half polished spoon poised in her soft paws. “Couldn’t you stay for breakfast? Mymble Jr. and Too-Ticky are joining us and I’m sure they would love to see you and Snufkin.”

Moomintroll rubbed at the fluffy back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh, goodness. Well, uh… let’s just say, hypothetically, that one’s boyfriend was falling headlong into his first seasonal cycle and one wanted to put as much space between them and polite society as possible, as quickly as possible. Hypothetically.”

“Oh, dear.” Moominmamma looked concerned for half a beat before reason and recollection prevailed. “Well, at least now you have some experience behind you. And I don’t have to worry about becoming Moomin Grandmamma this time around.”

Moomintroll remembered vividly how stressed she had been brewing up an emergency batch of contraceptive potion when they had figured out what was wrong with Snorkmaiden the year before, and how she had fretted around him for half an hour after he swallowed it to make sure that she had followed the directions exactly right (green pelt polka dots were the most common side effect of a botched brew). “Yeah, exactly. Everything will be fine. We’ll remember to drink lots of water and everything.”

Moominpappa drummed his fingers anxiously on the tabletop. “And make sure Snufkin files his claws down, won’t you? I’m sure he wouldn’t purposely harm a single hair on your hide, but you really don’t want to tangle with a mumrik in their season if they haven’t been blunted. They get grabby.”

Shrugging his heavy knapsack more comfortably onto his back, Moomintroll nodded distractedly. “Yes, of course we…” His paws stilled on the shoulder straps as he looked up. “How do you know that, Pappa?”

“What’s that? Ah, well, I—” Moominpappa cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere but at his son. He waved a flippant paw. “Well it’s common knowledge, I suppose, everyone knows that—”

Moominmamma chuckled a bit mischievously at her husband’s blustering and went back to polishing. “Now, darling, I think our Moomintroll is old enough by now that you can stop sanding the scratches out of the headboard.”

After a long moment of silence, he let out a deep sigh. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. There comes a time in every young creature’s life when they must discover that their parents are not the saintly figures they once perceived them to be in childhood. But I’m still sanding that headboard. If the marks build up it will be unsightly.”

“Right. Okay. I can’t process this right now. I have to go.” Ears very pink, Moomintroll floundered to the door. Halfway out, he glanced back. “We’ll be home in a few days.”

“Be careful, dear!” Moominmamma waved with the polishing rag. “Try to enjoy yourselves. Take care of yourself, and take care of Snufkin.”

Moominpappa sighted along a fork critically. “I’m sure he’ll have all that well in paw. No pun intended, of course.”

“Oh, behave yourselves!” Moomintroll shouted into the house, and snapped the door shut. His parents’ muffled laughter followed him toward the bridge. He shook his head dazedly. Was this really what being an adult was like?

Snufkin was waiting just beneath the shadow of the trees at the trailhead. The vagabond wore his traveling pack and the satchel Snorkmaiden had carried. The tent was nowhere in sight, long since stowed away.

“Did Snorkmaiden go home already?” Moomintroll asked in surprise, glancing around as if his girlfriend might pop out from behind a bush.

“Yes. She said she didn’t want to distract us from getting on our way.” Snufkin shifted from foot to foot restlessly. “Moomintroll, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?” he asked suddenly. “If not, I completely understand. I’m sure I’ll be just fine on my own for a few days.”

“Oh, Snufkin…” He tenderly cupped his love’s cheek. The troll’s heart melted a little further as that soft cheek immediately nuzzled into his palm. Abruptly, Moomintroll let his paw drop. He spun on his heel, walked a few paces up the trail, and finally paused to look back over his shoulder. With all the confidence he could muster, he raised a brow and smiled. His tail flipped alluringly. “Yip yip.”

A moment later, to his immense joy and relief, Snufkin chased after him into the forest with a breathless laugh.

- // - // - // - // -

Having tended to the most important task of her day, Snorkmaiden took her time making her way homeward. She admired her reflection in the sparkling stream. She lingered in a particularly picturesque meadow to gather a bouquet of spring flowers for the drawing room. She tried very hard not to think about what Moomintroll and Snufkin had gotten up to the night before and failed grandly. Once home, sprawled comfortably on the chaise by the drawing room window with her bouquet in a lovely vase on a table nearby, she gave up the effort and let her mind wander. A little curiosity was healthy for an imaginative and intelligent creature such as herself.

She dared say it would do the foolish (though incredibly sweet and endearing) creatures good to finally stop pining and get down to brass tacks. A little pining was all well and good—terribly romantic, even!—but veritable forests of the stuff had grown up between the Moomin and mumrik in the past year or two. It was high time the inferno of their pent up passions reached a crescendo of lovemaking the likes of which the Lonely Mountains had never seen.

Snorkmaiden stretched luxuriously, the warm sunshine spilling through the window toasting her fur in a most pleasant manner. She had no doubt whatsoever that the two of them would figure things out.

“Oh?”

At the curious exclamation, Snorkmaiden craned her neck back and looked upside down over the ornate arm of the chaise. “Hello, Snork. What’s up?”

Her brother stood in the doorway, a glass of water in his paw and a surprised look on his face. “You’re back already? I thought you were going over to Moominhouse to see your boyfriends.”

Leisurely she rolled over, peeking over the chaise arm in a more comfortable position that wouldn’t rush all the blood to her snout. “I only have one boyfriend, Snork. It’s Moomintroll who has two lovers. I told you that.”

“Really. You and Snufkin seemed to be enjoying each other’s company quite a bit yesterday.”

Her ear flicked back indignantly. “Well, of course we did. We’ve always been good friends—we just lost track of that at some point and now we’re getting it back.” She frowned disapprovingly. “I’ve told you all this, too. I do wish you’d pay more attention when I confide in you, you know.”

“Whatever you say, Sis.” The Snork looked at her over the tops of his glasses; the slightly patronizing, ‘I am the elder sibling and I will always be right about everything’ look that had so annoyed her when she had been a small Snorklet (and still did, if she were being honest). “I just couldn’t help noticing that this spring you’ve started looking at Snufkin the same way you look at Moomintroll, that’s all.”

Both her ears pinged upward in surprise. “I what?”

“The smile on your face when you look at them is the same. It’s quite soft and wibbly, and also you go a bit doe-eyed. Just an observation.”

Snorkmaiden could feel her fur turning pink and hated it. “I’m certain you are quite mistaken, dear brother,” she told him primly. “Snufkin is a beloved friend and companion, nothing more.”

He adjusted his glasses rather smugly. “Of course, of course. Even though I’ve been watching you smile since you were born, and you don’t smile that smile at Sniff, or Little My, or Alicia or Ninny or Mymble Jr.—”

“Don’t you have some genius contraption that needs your attention just right this very minute?” Snorkmaiden demanded loudly, tail thumping against the upholstery of the chaise in her aggravation.

Wisely, the Snork staged a strategic retreat. “You are absolutely right. I’ll be down for lunch. What are we having?”

“Raw potatoes!” she shouted crossly at his retreating back.

“I’ll definitely see you at dinnertime. Enjoy your afternoon!” Whatever else he might have said was lost up the stairwell.

When he had gone, Snorkmaiden lay back and clasped her paws over her belly with a huff of annoyance. That was the trouble with older brothers, and hers in particular—they always thought they knew everything. A woman’s fancies were a bottomless wellspring, its mysteries indecipherable to all but those she herself deigned to bless with intimate knowledge of the depths.

Of course she was especially fond of Snufkin among all her other friends. He was adventurous and dashing, kind and soft-spoken but ever ready to stand up to unjust authority. And really, who wouldn’t admire a fellow who could tunnel out of jail with a tin opener? He was easy on the eyes, too, for a creature that lacked the luxurious pelt and sensuous curves of Snorks or Moomins.

But of course none of that meant that she fancied the vagabond romantically!

Why, that Snork wouldn’t know romance if someone put a blueprint of it under his nose, she fumed. The heart isn’t some dusty old machine you can understand the workings of just by glancing at it! Doe-eyes, indeed.

Snufkin was also the only other creature she could trust to be as kind and devoted to Moomintroll as she herself was. Their boyfriend was as soft on the inside as he was on the outside. His feelings often required delicate handling. Even before she had begun to suspect that the two might have been carrying a torch, Snufkin had always been downright tender with the Moomin. Knowing that such gentleness carried into their romantic affairs put her mind at ease.

A sudden fluttering of butterflies arose unbidden in Snorkmaiden’s stomach as her imagination skipped off to ponder just how such gentleness would play out between the two. Heartfelt whispers. Adoring glances. The softest, most sensual of touches… She shook herself a bit guiltily. Hadn’t she better avoid going down such a mental road in too much detail?

Well, Moomintroll is my boyfriend, after all. Such thoughts should be alluring, she reasoned with herself. And Snufkin is Moomintroll’s boyfriend, after all. It’s perfectly natural that a stray thought of him here or there may slip in.

Of course that was all it was. She couldn’t be faulted if she thought her dear friend’s newfound purrs were absolutely precious thrumming against her shoulder. Or that his limber form felt so nice wrapped in her arms when they hugged. Or that he always smelled of pine forests, campfire stories and wild rivers. It probably wasn’t a terribly big issue that he made her wonder what mymble-kissing was like, and whether or not his clothes hid away any more auburn fur she’d never seen, or if he had inherited enough mymble proclivities to consider, potentially, just possibly, the idea of a troll under each arm.

Snorkmaiden’s paws flopped limply to the cushion beneath her. She stared at the ceiling, fur turning from the rose of flustered embarrassment to a vexed shade of violet. “Well, pickles.”

Chapter 13: Simmering explorations

Chapter Text

Snufkin and Moomintroll made good time. They ate breakfast on foot, munching the apples and bread Moomintroll had packed as they hiked higher into the mountains.

Holding his boyfriend’s warm paw securely in his own, Snufkin couldn’t help but remember the last time he had come this way, less than a month ago. Then he had been determined to put as much distance between himself and Moomintroll as possible. Now he was chiefly preoccupied with lessening the distance between them as much as possible. It was amazing how things could change so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.

“I could carry you on my back if you like,” Moomintroll laughed as Snufkin drifted just a bit too close and bumped against his side for the umpteenth time, like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity. “I may have to leave my pack behind, though.”

The vagabond blushed and ducked beneath his hat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Moomintroll nudged him back affectionately. “You know how ‘touchy-feely’ I am. I love having you so close to me.”

Snufkin did know, and it begged the question: when his cycle wound down and he no longer felt the need to be constantly hugged and pet and nuzzled, would his tendencies toward solitude return and drive the affectionate troll away? He had always believed that he was perfectly happy alone, but after only a few weeks of being Moomintroll’s boyfriend, he had serious doubts that he could give the title up without being rather devastated. And if they did have to go back to a strictly platonic friendship when he left at the end of autumn, would Moomintroll even be able to look at him the same way again? From a young age, Snufkin had been both the most sensible mymble and the most reliable mumrik in the valley. Would Moomintroll (and Snorkmaiden, for that matter) still think highly of him, knowing he was just as weak to the indignity of wild lusts as any other creature?

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something all of a sudden,” Moomintroll remarked.

“Several somethings, actually,” the vagabond admitted.

“Care to share?”

Snufkin’s tail flicked to and fro as he considered his words. “Well, mostly it’s that I’m still going to need to go wandering this autumn. I know how much you always miss me; how much you missed me even before we got… romantically entangled.” He couldn’t help a small smile at Moomintroll’s quiet giggle. “How sad will you be when I leave now that we’re partners?”

“Well,” the troll said thoughtfully, “I’m not a child anymore. I understand now why you leave—why you need to leave—and I understand that you’ll always come home again. You’re right that it does still make me sad, though. I think seeing you off in the autumn will always make me sad no matter how well I understand or how many times I do it.”

“Sad enough to break up with me if I still leave you behind even though we’re dating now?” Snufkin forced himself to ask, voice small.

“Absolutely not,” Moomintroll replied firmly. “And it would make me even sadder if you stayed here with me for my sake and then didn’t get what you needed from your wild winters. Does that make sense?”

“I think so, yes.” Snufkin looked quickly down and watched the rocky dirt of the trail intently to avoid showing off how red his face was. Goodness, he was cared for so very much.

Behind them, Moomintroll’s tail gave a playful, mischievous wag. “I suppose I’ll just have to work extra hard this summer, is all,” he commented airily. “Make lots of lovely memories to keep me warm over the winter, and give my boyfriend a very good reason to hurry home in the spring.”

Snufkin gave a quiet gasp, paw tightening reflexively around his boyfriend’s as the deceptively innocent words and suggestive promise in the Moomin’s voice sent a sudden pulse of heat through his core. He glanced quickly over and found Moomintroll grinning broadly, little pink-tinged ears wiggling with teasing delight.

“You scoundrel,” he accused, giving the troll’s leg a soft swat with his tail. “You are not to rile me up until we reach the hot spring. I’m having enough trouble as it is.” Each time he had begun to feel the odd, dreamy sensation that he now knew was his cycle about to get the better of his head, Snufkin bit his tongue hard or clenched his small claws tight into his palms to keep his wits about him. He knew that wouldn’t solve the problem forever, but as a quick fix it would do. As much as he might like to seize his soft boyfriend and drag him off the path for a woodland interlude, there were just as many sentient little creatures in those woods as there were oblivious, wild ones. Snufkin may have been coming around to the idea of lovemaking, but that did not mean that he wanted an audience. Far better to wait until they reached the relative seclusion of the spring. Preferably until he had the tent set up again for maximum privacy.

“I’m sorry,” Moomintroll chuckled, giving his paw a sympathetic squeeze. “You’re right. Let’s talk about something else to keep our minds off of it.”

“A sound plan,” Snufkin agreed quickly. “What would you like to talk about?”

The troll’s ears twitched in thought. “Hmm. Well… this may sound a bit odd, but… Snufkin, have you ever gotten the feeling that my pappa and your dad might have… y’know. A relationship that isn’t strictly one-hundred percent platonic, if you understand what I’m saying?”

That was more than enough to peel Snufkin’s thoughts firmly away from anything even remotely amorous. “Oh Booble, you’ve suspected it, too?”

“Only since this very morning.” Moomintroll let go of his paw to gesture animatedly. “Pappa said something about making sure you blunt your claws because mumriks get grabby when they’re in season, and I said how did he know that, and then Mamma said something about scratches on their headboard, so she knows about it, and she was laughing!”

“My papa said something incriminating about Moomins as partners too, just yesterday,” Snufkin admitted, not knowing quite how he should feel at having his suspicions confirmed. (Right offhand he was caught somewhere between amused and queasy.) “It would check out. They did have many adventures together before they met our mothers. And my mother, at least, certainly wouldn’t have minded sharing.”

“But they’re not lovey-dovey at all,” Moomintroll exclaimed, clearly having trouble with the terrifying new reality they suddenly found themselves adrift in. “In fact your dad loves pestering the daylights out of Pappa more than just about anything. It’s his main hobby besides sleeping.”

Snufkin nodded thoughtfully. Moominpappa did often seem more inclined to tie a knot in the Joxter’s tail in frustration at his teasing antics than anything romantic. “That’s true, but you can’t deny they do care for one another quite a bit. Perhaps that’s simply their way of showing affection.”

Moomintroll stopped in the middle of the path, horrified. “You mean they’ve been flirting in front of us for years and we never even noticed?!”

“It’s certainly possible.”

“I’ll never be able to think about their boat trips the same way again,” the troll lamented dramatically. “Wait. D’you think Uncle Muddler—?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Snufkin shook his head hard enough to flap the brim of his hat. “I won’t even think of it.” The Muddler was far too innocent. In both age and experience he had been the youngest of their fathers’ group of friends when they were young sailors, adventuring at sea. They would never. “I must congratulate you, though, Moomintroll; you have taken my mind completely off of my own predicament. Well done.”

“Happy I could help.” Moomintroll scratched absently behind one ear. “I think.”

- // - // - // - // -

They stopped briefly for lunch, just long enough to eat the sandwiches and biscuits Snorkmaiden had made for them, before they were up and on their way again. It was early evening when they arrived at the hot spring.

Moomintroll’s tail wagged happily as they shrugged off their packs. He gave a mighty stretch, tail standing straight out behind him. “Oooh, that’s nice. I can’t wait to have a soak. That hot water’s going to feel so good.”

Snufkin fought the clamoring urge to drop everything (including clothing), grab his boyfriend’s paw, and run for the spring. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Reason prevailed by a slim margin. “Yes, it certainly will. Let’s hurry setting up camp.” He knelt, unstrapping the tent canvas from his rucksack. “I’ll see to the tent if you’ll see to the firewood.”

“Aye aye!” The troll saluted smartly. “Back in a jiffy.” As he turned away, the tuft of his tail trailed softly across the small of Snufkin’s back. All the fur on his body rising in immediate interest, Snufkin grabbed reflexively for that enticing tuft and luckily missed. Moomintroll disappeared into the trees, none the wiser.

This Moomin will be the death of me, the vagabond thought helplessly. His paws fumbled the tent ropes out of his pack with uncharacteristic clumsiness. Snufkin clenched them resolutely. He had his pride as a professional traveler! A little thing like a raging torrent of hormones would not get the best of him.

By and by Moomintroll returned with an armful of broken branches for their campfire. The tent stood sturdily; a feat that Snufkin was quietly proud of. Together they built a quick but serviceable ring for the fire.

“There.” Moomintroll wedged the last rock into place with a pleased flick of his ears. “That’ll do nicely.” He looked around their little clearing. The hot spring steamed gently some distance away; close at paw but far enough away that the breeze wouldn’t soak the tent in its perpetual moisture if the wind changed. “What would you like to do first? It’s a bit early for dinner, but—”

“A bath first, I think,” Snufkin said hurriedly, springing to his feet before he could restrain himself. “You were right—the water will feel lovely after hiking so far.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Moomintroll promptly began to decant his pack, digging industriously for some unknown item. “I brought some of the nice soap Mamma and Snorkmaiden made last summer. Where did it get to…?” He pulled out two fluffy towels, tightly rolled. “I know I packed it, it was the last thing I nabbed from the bathroom.”

“Are you sure you didn’t pack the entire linen cupboard?” Snufkin sighed, shaking his head fondly as the towels were tossed lightly in his direction. He caught them easily and tucked the neat rolls under one arm. A cake of soap fell out one end. “Ah, here it is.” He collected it from the gravel and pine needles where it had fallen, blowing off a speck of dirt and giving it a sniff. “Rosemary?”

“Yes, it’s very good.” Moomintroll wiggled happily in anticipation. “I thought you could wash my fur and I’ll wash yours. That’s pretty romantic, I think.”

Snufkin’s tail fluffed wildly, performing an acrobatic flip behind him. “Yes,” he squeaked, rather like a creep being accidentally shut in a door. Oh lord, this was it—the chance to redeem himself for the slapdash performance the night before. He quickly cleared his throat and forced his tail to settle. “Yes, very. Um. Shall we, then?”

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, the hot spring simmered gently in the lengthening shadows. The last rays of the sun sinking behind the mountains cast ethereal beams through the clouds of steam. Also oblivious, Moomintroll trotted right up and, without further ado, began to slide into the welcoming water. Snufkin had no choice but to laugh at the assortment of satisfied groans and exclamations streaming from the Moomin as he slowly submerged, stubby toes first.

Setting the towels and soap cake on the warm, flat rocks near the edge of the spring, Snufkin sat down to remove his boots. He undid the laces mechanically, tugged them off, and set them aside. His hat and scarf soon joined them. There was nothing at all awkward or strange about taking off his clothing in front of Moomintroll, he reminded himself as he reached back and began to undo the buttons of his coat. They’d been bathing together since they had been small enough for Moominmamma to scrub them both in the kitchen sink. Even if a certain part of his body was stubbornly doing its best to attract attention to itself, really it was nothing the troll hadn’t seen before.

And nothing he hasn’t felt before, he thought, flushing despite himself as he remembered, yet again, the marvelous sensation of them squirming together in the cool nighttime grass. His coat and smock and undershirt were quickly discarded, folded haphazardly next to the towels. Snufkin moved on to his trousers.

A soft sound from the water caught his fraying attention. Snufkin glanced up. Elbows braced on the rocky edge of the pool, snout in his palms, Moomintroll watched him with great interest, blue eyes raking the mumrik’s form from tip to toes.

Snufkin’s paws froze on his trouser buttons. They blinked silently at one another for several moments.

“Oh, sorry.” Finally seeming to realize the issue, Moomintroll gave himself a little shake. “Should I cover my eyes?” Damp white paws rose to do just that.

“It’s alright, Moomintroll,” he chuckled nervously. “You can look. I’m just being silly.”

“It’s not silly,” the troll argued, paws still firmly over his eyes. “You’re a private creature, and these are special circ*mstances. If you’re feeling shy I won’t look. I want you to be comfortable.”

Just when Snufkin thought it was impossible to fall more in love, his splendid Moomintroll caught him off guard once again. “You’ll see it all eventually,” he managed to point out through the besotted smile he was sure he wore. “I was under the impression it would be rather hard to do the things we’ll be doing without looking at least a bit.”

“It would be more difficult, but I’m sure I could manage.”

“I couldn’t put you to such trouble. And, well.” He cleared his throat softly, fiddling with the top button. “Fair is fair. I do rather want to look at you, as well.”

The tips of the Moomin’s ears pinkened. His paws slowly left his eyes, which cast a hopeful glance at Snufkin. “Oh. Alright, then. But tell me if I start staring again and you don’t care for it.”

“I promise.” Finally unbuttoning his trousers before he could think any more about it, the vagabond shoved them (and the underpants beneath) down, kicked them off and slipped quickly into the water. Heat bloomed across his skin and through his new fur that had nothing to do with hormones or embarrassment, and for a moment he forgot his bashfulness to let out his own groan of satisfaction. “Sweet stars above, this was a good idea.”

“I think so, too!” Beaming happily, Moomintroll sank up to his snout in the swirling water. “I don’t think even your dad would say no to a bath like this.”

Snufkin followed his boyfriend’s example and found a spot to sit on a submerged ledge that brought the water up to his collarbones. “You know, Papa doesn’t really hate baths,” he confided, enjoying the feel of his longer tail waving curiously in the spring’s subtle current. “Especially in warm water. He’s just too lazy to take them. He knows that if he gets grubby enough, eventually Mother or Moominpappa or Moominmamma will cart him off and do the washing for him.”

Moomintroll’s blue eyes widened with understanding. “Wow. He is so spoilt.”

“Incredibly spoilt,” Snufkin confirmed. Tipping his head back to rest on the edge of the pool, he closed his eyes blissfully. “Though I suppose the pot shouldn’t call the kettle black. I’m feeling a bit spoilt myself just now.” Those first few minutes in a hot spring were certainly moments to savor.

Suddenly, under the water, a more Moominous tail met his own and curled gently around it. “If you feel that way now, just wait until I get my paws on you,” Moomintroll promised guilelessly. He slipped closer, buoyed by the spring water like a dollop of whipped cream floating in a hot cup of coffee. Drifting in to moor next to the mumrik, he reached past to collect the soap. “May I scrub you first? I already had a wash this morning.”

Snufkin’s tail tightened reflexively in anticipation, twining firmly with the other’s. “O-oh, yes. Of course. Please do.” He fought to sit still and let Moomintroll decide where to begin. The returning urge to cling to the silky creature beside him prickled uncomfortably.

“Hmm…” Moomintroll glanced down at the majority of him that remained hidden beneath the water. Like the gentlemoomin he was, his eyes immediately returned to Snufkin’s face. “Let’s start with what’s on top, then.” He wet the cake of soap in his quick paws, conjuring a sweet-smelling lather. “Dunk your hair for me?”

At that moment he may just have been willing to dunk his head into a pot of glue if Moomintroll asked. Slipping fully under the water for a moment was the very least he could do for such a splendid creature. When he resurfaced, wet hair streaming into his eyes (he really should ask Moominmamma or Snorkmaiden to trim it for him sometime soon), soapy paws sank into it.

Snufkin instantly began to purr. He shivered rapturously, squirming under those firm but tender paws. As he dimly remembered his father warning, every bit of him seemed to have become more sensitive. Each little touch to skin or fur was magnified by the havoc his seasonal cycle was causing throughout what had once been a dependably predictable and trustworthy body. It felt so marvelous he couldn’t even think to be offended.

Moomintroll’s fingers massaged his scalp, working in the soap. His claws, even tinier than Snufkin’s own, scratched gently in a singularly perfect manner. The mumrik’s toes curled in the sand at the bottom of the pool as he butted his head into his boyfriend’s marvelous paws.

The troll’s ears wiggled delightedly as he laughed at Snufkin’s reaction. Snufkin’s purring amped up in response. How splendid that he could make Moomintroll so happy so easily, and that Moomintroll could make him so happy, and that they could spend all the time they liked there in the cozy warmth of the hot spring, simply enjoying each other’s closeness. Before he quite realized it, he was pressed up to Moomintroll chest to chest, decorating his wide, kissable snout with soft little pecks.

“I suppose I should have known we wouldn’t get very far,” Moomintroll chuckled helplessly, nuzzling Snufkin’s nose in return. “Let’s at least rinse your hair first. Getting soap in your eyes would put a stop to things pretty quick.”

Stop. Stop? Perish the very thought. Snufkin clung in protest, arms tight around Moomintroll’s neck. He buried his face in the damp fur of his boyfriend’s shoulder and purred beseechingly.

Moomintroll’s breath hitched in Snufkin’s ear. “Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, is it?” He feigned a playfully authoritative tone, paws finding the vagabond’s waist beneath the water. “Being cute won’t help you now. Hold on.”

Snufkin uttered a surprised shriek that turned instantly to laughter as he was hoisted (and terribly easily, too) and dipped backwards like a tango dancer, sudsy hair trailing through the water. Oh, what a Moomin he had.

One arm still snugly around Snufkin’s waist, Moomintroll spared an industrious paw to ruffle his submerged hair soundly. “There,” he said with some triumph, hauling the dripping mumrik upright once more. “That ought to do.”

Had he been thinking more clearly that evening, Snufkin likely would not have shaken his head so thoroughly and given his boyfriend a face full of water. But he wasn’t, and he did. Caught off guard, Moomintroll quickly closed his eyes against the flying droplets with a laugh. He sat down abruptly near the edge of the pool with a splash and a soft bump. Snufkin, still wrapped around him like an amorous squid, settled firmly in his lap. His shaft nudged into the silky fur directly over the spot where the Moomin’s own was hidden. Seeming to take the contact for an invitation, it slipped out immediately.

“Ah!” The troll’s eyes shot open and his ears went rigid.

“What’s the matter?” Snufkin asked blearily, worry trying to penetrate the fog of arousal. Being pressed up against his boyfriend’s lovely bulk in every which way made concentrating exceptionally difficult.

“Nothing,” Moomintroll squeaked. His paws tightened on Snufkin’s hips beneath the water. “It’s just—warm. Quite warm. Just need to adjust a bit!”

Oh. Snufkin shifted against him, purring softly in sympathy. Moomintroll must have been quite sensitive with his business always being safely tucked away, never becoming too warm or too chilly, never rubbing against the fabric of underclothes or trousers. He guessed it would be uncomfortable to suddenly plunge it into rather hot water. Without thinking, he reached down into the water and wrapped a gentle paw around it.

Moomintroll jolted, jostling Snufkin in his lap. A complicated expression twisted across his muzzle.

Snufkin was suddenly unsure if he was helping the problem or simply adding to it. Perhaps he should just be still and let his boyfriend do what needed to be done. His paw froze around the firm length. “I’m sorry. Does this feel any better at all?”

“Oh, lots better,” the Moomin hastened to assure. “Loads and loads better, in fact! You should probably keep doing that.”

Reassured, Snufkin bent to the task at hand. The warm water, opaque with pale minerals pulled up from the earth by the spring, lapped at the bottom of his ribs; deep enough where they sat that he couldn’t quite make out what was happening beneath it. He could certainly feel, though. Moomintroll’s shaft was stiff and slippery, feeling almost cool compared to the hot water around them. It was long and slender, thicker at the base, tapering upwards to a blunt but definite point. Snufkin’s fingers explored the very slight crown around the tip. He felt that the shape should remind him of something, but just then he couldn’t for the life of him think of what it could be.

Moomintroll’s hips began to shift. Blunt teeth worried the white fuzz of his lower lip. One paw stealthily wandered down Snufkin’s thigh. “Is it alright if I—?”

“Yes, please!” Abstractly, Snufkin thought he should probably be embarrassed by the neediness in his own voice. The soft, furry paw that wrapped around him a moment later, stroking and exploring him in kind, ensured that the thought had no chance to take root. He barely had the presence of mind to grit his teeth against a shout (or a moan, or some other such unnecessarily loud noise).

“Oh, wow,” the troll murmured wonderingly, “we’re not shaped the same. I didn’t think yours would be rounded at the top. I mean, it looks a bit different when you’re not hard.” He seemed entirely enthralled, ears angled sideways in concentration as he stroked the supple skin up and down the top of Snufkin’s length. He exhaled hard, the rush of warm breath tickling the mumrik’s ear. “Feels nice.”

Snufkin’s free paw clenched in the fur at the back of Moomintroll’s neck as he completely failed to hold back a low cry. He squirmed, grinding himself into his boyfriend’s paw as best he could. Unfortunately that meant that he lost his own grip on Moomintroll’s shaft and grabbed instead at the fluff on his chest, wrapping his legs tight around his boyfriend’s waist.

Moomintroll didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he made a noise of great satisfaction as Snufkin squirmed ever closer and opened his paw wider, gathering both their lengths together. “Ah, yes, that’s it…”

That was indeed it. Snufkin pressed his face into the soft spot between Moomintroll’s neck and shoulder with a whimper. The smooth slickness of the co*ck rubbing firmly against his own, combined with the heady knowledge that it belonged to Moomintroll, of all creatures, rapidly pushed him toward the brink.

Moomintroll’s free paw moved from Snufkin’s hip to just above his tail, stroked a bit at the sensitive place where it met his rump, then slipped lower still to cup his bottom. Snufkin’s paws clenched reflexively in the fur of his boyfriend’s shoulders as the hold was used to rock them more firmly together.

“Help me out a bit?” Moomintroll asked breathlessly, stroking them quicker. “My paw’s not quite big enough…”

Wasn’t it? Snufkin thought he had been doing an absolutely splendid job anyhow. Summoning the last of his wherewithal, he plunged one paw into the water and fumbled it around them alongside Moomintroll’s, doing his best to stroke in tandem. Unable to help himself, he nipped and kissed at the softly furred collarbone so temptingly in range. The affectionate grooming seemed to be well received; Moomintroll’s paw sped up on their shafts, jostling against Snufkin’s.

“Snufkin, I’m sorry, I’m going to—!” he gasped, before going rigid with a loud groan.

Snufkin panted harshly into downy fluff as the paw on his bottom tensed, hugging him tightly against Moomintroll’s body. “Oh, Moomee, oh,” he babbled softly, before muffling his own quiet moan against the troll’s chest.

They shivered and shook as pleasure ran its course. The gentle currents of the hot spring helpfully carried away the evidence of their tryst.

Snufkin slowly got his bearings. He remembered that he still had a tail (wrapped around one of Moomintroll’s legs) and toes (curled almost as tightly as his paws). He relaxed them as best he could. It was nearly as difficult to think afterwards as it was in the midst of the chaos.

Slightly stubby, but no less strong, arms wrapped him in a loving embrace. A soft Moomin snout came gently to rest against the tip of his nose. Blue eyes, half-lidded and pleasure-lazy, gazed contentedly into Snufkin’s brown ones. A deep sigh of satisfaction ruffled the ends of the mumrik’s damp hair. Snufkin nudged his much smaller nose against his boyfriend’s in kind, returning both the gaze and the nuzzle. If this was some sort of post-lovemaking Moomin custom, he felt he could become used to it.

Then Moomintroll’s ears perked up in surprise. “Ha! By my tail!”

“What is it?”

The troll laughed, lifting a paw to Snufkin’s cheek. “You… you’re absolutely covered in my fur. Little white hairs all over your face! And here,” the paw trailed down his neck and chest where the loose fur clung to damp skin, “and—and just everywhere, really. You’d better go over to the other side and duck under again.”

“Oh my goodness.” Snufkin stared at his paws in dismay. They too were covered in tufts of white troll fur. He felt a bit on his tongue, as well. “I’m so sorry, Moomintroll—I was pulling at you far too hard. I didn’t realize I was holding on so tightly…”

“It’s nothing, really it isn’t,” the Moomin reassured quickly. “I hardly felt it in the heat of the moment.” Indeed, as the vagabond slipped sheepishly off of his lap, Moomintroll looked entirely pleased with himself. “For the record, it was completely worth it.”

Snufkin huffed fondly and paddled off to rinse.

Chapter 14: The Further Broadening of Amorous Horizons

Chapter Text

Moomin fluff drifted on subtle currents within the hot spring, barely distinguishable from the mineral-laden waters and wisps of mist above. By and by the little clumps swirled closer and closer to the small fingers of water that trickled out of the pool, over the rocks, and tracked a gently steaming course for the main stream not far away.

Two young lovers lounged together side by side, arms folded on the rim of the pool. Their elbows bumped companionably. Their tails, trailing idly on top of the water, occasionally intertwined. Snufkin knew that soon they would need to haul themselves out and get a fire going to ward off the evening chill (and perhaps brew some of the tea Snorkmaiden had sent with them). For the moment, though, they were content to lounge together in the growing twilight.

“I’m sorry,” Snufkin eventually chuckled in the lazy quiet, more than a bit sheepish.

Moomintroll lifted his head off his arms in surprise. “What for?”

“I had hoped I’d be able to keep a bit more control of myself today. Our first time was a bit… frantic. Snorkmaiden told me your first time together was, too. I wanted to make our second go of it better.” Less rushed. More of the tender care that Moomintroll so clearly deserved.

The troll chuckled. “I think my first times with both of you were pretty perfect, actually.”

“Oh?” Snufkin peeked over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know.” Moomintroll worried his paws together, trying to explain. “Snorkmaiden is a very refined young lady. But she’s also got this fire inside her, too. She’s brave, and strong, and she knows what she wants and she works at it until she gets it. I know she wanted our first time to be just like the romance novels—in bed with flower petals and all that—but when she just jumped in and came after what she needed, it really seemed right.”

An involuntary shiver bristled up Snufkin’s back as his mind helpfully provided detailed speculations of what that frenzied, passionate scene must have looked like. Moomintroll flat on his back, Snorkmaiden’s paws pinning his shoulders to the rug as she helped herself to the pleasure he so willingly offered, their pale fur and eager voices mingling as she took him inside herself and began to buck her soft hips. His shaft twitched beneath the water. “Mmm. Mm-hmm…”

“And then last night,” Moomintroll continued, oblivious to the vagabond’s increasingly difficult predicament, “well. I know we made plans and were trying to be responsible and all, but sneaking down the ladder in the dark for secret adventures is so very us, don’t you think? I always think of you as being so wild and free, so having our first time there in the grass, under the stars…” He signed rather dreamily. “It just seemed absolutely perfect.”

The words were like fresh tinder on a smoldering coal. Snufkin stretched out a shaky paw and placed it tentatively, shyly on the other’s arm. “Ah, Moomintroll?”

The Moomin looked up at him at once. “Hmm?”

He wriggled helplessly, tail curling and uncurling like a confused eel under the water. “I… mmm, I… please…?”

Moomintroll looked confused for half a beat before blue eyes opened wide in understanding. “Oh! Oh, of course.” He shifted to face the mumrik, little ripples fanning out from his snowy form. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, no, not at all,” Snufkin assured hastily. His paws fidgeted under the water. “I’m sorry for being so needy. We only just… and I thought that would be enough for this evening. I only needed the once last night.” His cheeks, already flush with the heat of the hot spring, grew redder.

“I think maybe we just opened the floodgates,” Moomintroll guessed. He edged closer, the soft dampness of his snout nuzzling Snufkin’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not fighting to hold it back anymore, so your body’s gone full steam ahead.”

“I’d wager you may be on to something,” Snufkin agreed apologetically. The troll’s loving was more addictive than liquor, or sugar, or anything one could pack into a pipe. Now that he had gotten a taste, it seemed impossible that he would ever manage to get enough. “Sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Moomintroll nudged him with playful gentleness. “If you hadn’t noticed, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself.” Then his ears laid back in concern. “Er. You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Snufkin promised honestly. What a very wonderful Moomintroll, always thinking of others before himself. “Very much so. I just don’t want to be a bother.”

Moomintroll laughed. “Snuf, that’s like Mamma baking a delicious cake and then apologizing for bothering us to eat it.” He eased an arm around Snufkin, giving the vagabond plenty of time to pull away if he chose to. (He did not choose to.) “I know you’re a strong, independent mumrik and you’ve pulled my bacon—and Sniff’s, and Little My’s, and everyone else’s—out of the fire more times than I can count, but would it be so bad to let me be the one to look after you, just this once?”

“And next I suppose you’ll be asking Little My to behave like a proper, polite young lady, just this once.” Snufkin quirked a skeptical brow even as he leaned into his boyfriend’s side. For a good part of each year he had no other option but to take care of himself. Old habits, as the saying went, died hard. And his friends, when left to their own devices, did have an unfortunate tendency to get on the bad sides of pirates and imps and what have you. Better that he be the one doing the caretaking more often than not.

And yet. He couldn’t deny that the thought of being cared for (by Moomintroll specifically, in this one special circ*mstance) held more than a little appeal. How often had he secretly wished for the other’s loving words and tender touches when he was all alone in the wilds with just the rocks and the trees and his lonesome dreams? Until this spring he had never dared hope those dreams may someday have a chance of becoming reality, but here and now, with Moomintroll offering… The realization did nothing to calm the rising tide of his libido.

“Probably just as hopeless, right?” Moomintroll chuckled ruefully, unaware of the mumrik’s musings. “It was just a thought.”

“Would it make you happy?” Snufkin asked carefully. “To look after me?”

Moomintroll’s ears wiggled at the thought. “Well, yes, of course it would. I love being able to help you and do things for you—and for Snorkmaiden, though neither of you ever really seem to need my help very often.”

Though he certainly took after his father in exuberance and enthusiasm, Moominmamma’s devoted and caring nature very clearly shone through in this side of Moomintroll. Snufkin began to purr. He turned to rub his cheek lovingly against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Well. I suppose I could do my best to allow myself to be doted on. Just this once, as you say.”

“Really?” His tail began to wag, tickling Snufkin’s leg under the water.

“Really, truly.” Perhaps it would work out better all-around this way, Snufkin decided. Rather than worrying over whether or not he would be able to please Moomintroll given his lack of romantic experience, he could try to please Moomintroll simply by letting the troll pamper him. Just this once. Just until he found his footing and learned how to repay in kind.

“Then I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it,” Moomintroll declared determinedly.

Snufkin laughed. “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me regret—oh!” Quite suddenly there were arms wrapped around his waist. With a small splash, he found himself lifted from his rocky seat and tugged neatly onto the much softer perch of Moomintroll’s lap. His back fetched up against the Moomin’s damp chest. A warm snout came to rest on his shoulder, brushing his cheek. Snufkin flushed. “Oh. Hullo.”

“Is this alright?” Moomintroll asked, paws gently stroking Snufkin’s arms.

The vagabond shifted, acutely aware of the feeling of soft white fur and solid muscle beneath the bare skin of his thighs and rump. The fur tickled a bit as it moved in the water, like sea anemones. “This is exceptionally alright, yes.”

“Good.” Undoubtedly pleased, Moomintroll squeezed him in a hug. “Now—we never did get to finish that wash up.”

Snufkin’s tail tuft swished the sand below their feet in anticipation at the playful tone in his boyfriend’s voice. “Hmm. I can’t help but wonder if you are so keen to wash me because you truly think I’m dirty enough to need it, or if this is simply a clever scheme to get your paws on my person.”

“Oh, no, he’s found me out,” Moomintroll lamented, groping on the rocks behind them for the abandoned piece of soap. “I’ll have you know that one of the best ways to take care of a creature one loves is to touch them lots. All over. As much as they like.” To illustrate his point, soapy paws came to rest on Snufkin’s shoulders.

Instinctively, Snufkin pressed back into the touch. “As you’re the one with experience, I’ll have to—mmm!—take your word for it.”

Moomintroll made a contented noise at the acquiescence. His thumbs pressed into the muscles where Snufkin’s neck met his shoulders; muscles the mumrik hadn’t realized were tense until that very moment. A garbled mishmash of pleased sounds escaped him.

“Why,” the troll said with feigned surprise, “you must have learned a new language during your travels this year! You’re so worldly, dear Snufkin.”

Snufkin dropped a quick paw into the water to give his boyfriend’s ample thigh a pinch. “Cheeky,” he scolded weakly.

Moomintroll wiggled and giggled delightedly. His snout further ruffled Snufkin’s messy, wet hair. Those soapy paws wandered like a mumrik in midwinter; across his shoulders, down his arms, up again only to trail down his back and under the water to the base of his tail.

Snufkin twitched and shook, trying not to squirm terribly. It was wonderful, because Moomintroll was touching him, but it was dreadful, because Moomintroll was touching him and not in the place where he most wished for it. He began to understand just why Snorkmaiden had thrown decorum to the winds and simply pounced on their boyfriend in her time of need.

Fingers closed firmly around Snufkin’s tail and stroked it from base to tip. The appendage thrashed in Moomintroll’s grip. “Goodness me, how am I meant to wash your tail while it’s going on like a caterpillar learning a folk dance?”

“Moomintrooooll,” Snufkin implored, half a laugh and half a moan. He reached back, wrapping his arms around the troll’s neck for something, anything, to hold onto. It had the happy side effect of pressing his bottom further into the plush lap he sat on.

Moomintroll let out a sharp gasp. It was echoed half a second later by Snufkin, as something poked him very suddenly and firmly in a place he had never been poked before. He squirmed in surprise and felt it shift, sliding further forward between his legs.

“Sorry. I was trying really hard to keep that in,” Moomintroll mumbled, snout scrunched into the curve of Snufkin’s shoulder.

Dazed, Snufkin looked down at his lap. He still couldn’t see very well through the milky water, of course, but the slick length pressed between his thighs felt good there. Exciting. He tightened his legs experimentally and felt his boyfriend shiver in response. “Why?”

“Um—w-well—for some reason that seemed important a minute ago.” White paws (now suspiciously free of soap) curled around the mumrik’s chest. They mapped across his pectorals, the comparative roughness of Moomintroll’s paw pads brushing the hardened pebbles of his nipples curiously. “Oh, yours are so much easier to find without all the fluff.”

Snufkin arched his chest into the touch, thighs tensing and co*ck jumping at the thought of those same fingers running sensuously through Snorkmaiden’s downy-soft coat. There was no hope for it—mating season had clearly turned him into a degenerate. He grabbed his boyfriend’s paws in his own and pushed them lower with a rather demanding whine. “Moomee, please!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Moomintroll apologized hastily. His left arm wrapped firmly around Snufkin’s chest, pulling him tighter against the troll’s steady softness. His right paw continued downward where it was directed, skimming down Snufkin’s stomach, through the trail of fur that now decorated his lower belly, and finally wrapping firmly around the base of his shaft.

Snufkin uttered a soft cry of relief. His toes and tail curled in the water as Moomintroll began to stroke him. He squirmed, lacking the leverage to thrust up into the grip. The troll’s own length rubbed at the slick skin between his thighs, and suddenly the breaths being panted into the vagabond’s ear were coming quite a bit quicker.

“Is this okay?” Moomintroll managed to ask.

For a fraction of a second Snufkin considered the warm hardness jutting so tantalizingly near his most sensitive places. “Faster,” he mewled, wanton as any purebred mymble in a steamy bodice ripper. He clutched at the arm wrapped around him and closed his knees, squeezing the tip of the troll’s co*ck encouragingly between his legs.

Moomintroll made a muffled groaning sound. Then Snufkin was being bounced in his lap, every hard buck jostling him up into Moomintroll’s rapidly stroking paw. Water splashed around them with their enthusiasm, gasped breaths and pants becoming louder and louder until Snufkin had to bite back a keen. The same familiar motions felt so much better performed by a paw that wasn’t his own. All too soon, inexorable as a wave crashing against the shore, climax crested over him. Snufkin threw his head back against Moomintroll’s shoulder, riding out the ripples of pleasure with gritted teeth and ragged breath.

His little sounds of release seemed to spur Moomintroll on, the troll thrusting up against him with even more determination. More than happy to aid in his pleasure, Snufkin stayed precisely as he was, hugging his arm and making encouraging little noises until Moomintroll finally tensed underneath him with a low whine and slowed to a shuddering stop.

The water slowly settled around them. Snufkin lolled in his boyfriend’s arms, feeling thoroughly spent, thoroughly satisfied, and thoroughly looked after. The warm weight of a tired Moomin slumped against his back felt marvelously secure and grounding. All he could do was purr witlessly and softly pet whatever wet, white fur his paws could find.

“Oh, Snufkin,” Moomintroll panted. “That was…” Dazed and winded, he searched for words. “That was… hot.” Suddenly his arms tightened around Snufkin. He sat up straighter, pulling the limp mumrik with him. “Hot. Too hot!”

Snufkin uttered a single surprised sound as Moomintroll stood abruptly. Steaming water poured from the troll’s thick fur as he hoisted Snufkin out of the spring, then flopped belly down onto the cool rocks beside him. “Oh dear. Are you alright?”

Still panting, Moomintroll managed a weak thumbs-up from the spreading puddle he was creating. “Fine,” he wheezed. “I’m fine. No worries.”

Snufkin pet him sympathetically between the ears. Perhaps Moomins, well-insulated against the cold as they were for their long winter sleeps, weren’t meant for such vigorous exercise after an extended soak in a hot spring. “Wait a moment, I’ll get you a drink of water.”

“Hey, wait, hang on. Aren’t I the one meant to be looking after you?” Moomintroll levered himself up into a sitting position. He already looked less dizzy, to Snufkin’s relief. “We should both drink some water. And have a bite of supper. And you should get dry, before you catch a chill.”

The cool air and rocks had felt quite nice against the vagabond’s heated skin, but his boyfriend’s declaration reminded Snufkin suddenly that he was indeed quite bare. He quickly rescued one of the towels from the widening puddle around Moomintroll and wrapped it around himself. The weave of the cotton paled in comparison to the softness and comfort of moominfluff. “I suppose we should get a fire made up, then.”

Moomintroll got to his feet with barely a wobble. He shook the leftover moisture from his fur, making Snufkin laugh and guard his face at the sudden shower. “Okay. You get dressed and I’ll get the fire built.” He worried his paws for a moment, ears lowering shyly. “And then do you think we could have a cuddle? Before you need to go again, I mean.”

Snufkin blushed even as he smiled at how positively endearing his boyfriend could be. It was encouraging to know that Moomintroll was at least as besotted with him as he was with Moomintroll. “That sounds wonderful.” He began to dry himself industriously, the cold of evening more obvious with every moment he spent out of the hot spring. A warm cuddle beside an even warmer fire would be the very thing. “But please don’t worry about anything else. I’m sure this silly cycle of mine is quite done with for tonight.”

- // - // - // - // -

Less than an hour later and Snufkin could say without any reasonable doubt that this silly cycle of his was not, in fact, quite done with for the night. He was chilled and flushed hot by turns. His old clothes, which had hitherto felt as comfortable and well-worn as always, felt itchy and bothersome against his skin and fur. Food held no appeal, though they had hiked a good distance that day (on top of their more amorous activities) and he should, by all rights, have worked up quite an appetite.

Moomintroll plied him with the tastiest of the morsels he had packed. “Come on, now. It’s smoked salmon. You love smoked salmon,” he cajoled, wafting a small piece temptingly close to the mumrik’s mouth. “Just a few bites?”

“Mmph. Oh, alright. Only because you’re being so nice about it.” He leaned forward and accepted an obliging nibble. The soft fur of the Moomin’s paw brushed his lip, bristling his tail at the sensation. Snufkin sighed deeply as he chewed the (admittedly delicious) tidbit.

Twilight had fallen over the mountains. A cheerful fire crackled, warming their little camp. A soft wind whispered soothingly through the pines. Such moments, in such places, were where Snufkin normally felt the most at peace. Tonight he felt the furthest thing from it. Normally content to watch the moon and stars, now all he could look at was the troll beside him. Rather than leisurely whittling at a stick or playing his mouth organ, all he wished to put his paws and mouth upon was… well. Yes.

Naturally, Moomintroll noticed. “So, Snufkin,” he began, tone laced with the forced casualness that meant he was nervous. It was oddly comforting. “What would you like to do now?”

“Oh. Well...” This whole affair couldn’t be only about him. Moomintroll deserved to indulge as well. “I believe cuddles were mentioned...?”

The troll wiggled happily on the log they had commandeered for a seat by the campfire and opened his arms invitingly. Snufkin, who had been sitting quite near him already, slid over instantly and clambered onto his boyfriend’s lap. If Moomintroll wanted a cuddle, a proper cuddle he would receive.

Moomintroll laughed, hugging him tightly. “I must say, I’ve been waiting for you to climb me like a tree all day. I suppose this counts.”

“Hush, you.” Snufkin hid both his red face and the smile it sported in clean, white fur. Being held like this by such a warm, fluffy creature was better than being wrapped in the very softest of blankets. “Give it time. You never know what mischief I might yet get up to. Though I do think I’ve done fairly well being on my good behavior so far.”

“Incredibly well,” Moomintroll assured. He nuzzled the vagabond’s forehead, his large snout lifting Snufkin’s hat in the process. “Though even your bad behavior looks pretty angelic next to, say, Stinky. Or Little My. Or your dad.”

Snufkin chuckled quietly, a purr rumbling in his chest even as the other’s touch made him shiver. He tucked his face into the crook of the Moomin’s neck and was content for a moment simply to be.

Moomintroll gave a pleased murmur and held him all the snugger. “So, now that you’ve humored my cuddles, is there anything you want to try?”

Half lost to nuzzles, purrs, and unconscious kneading of the soft middle he was pressed against, it took Snufkin a moment to process the question. “Try?”

“Yeah. You know. To help your cycle.” His little white ears had become mostly pink, bless him. He soldiered on. “What we’ve been doing is wonderful, of course, and we can absolutely keep doing that, but don’t be afraid to ask if there’s something else you want to do.”

What didn’t he want to do with such a remarkable creature? The trouble lay in siphoning through the nebulous vagueness of hormonal desires to focus upon a single act. Rather like being starved for a week and then standing in front of a banquet table, too many choices kept him from being able to settle upon just one treat. It was also extremely difficult to think when Moomintroll’s paws stroking just above the base of his tail made him feel as if all of his joints had been replaced by fresh, hot taffy. “Do you want to do anything else?” he finally managed to ask.

“Well, yes,” the troll admitted. “Quite a lot, really. But this should be your choice, so you get to pick what we do next. I’m game for just about anything. Including games.”

Snufkin blinked. “That’s quite generous of you, Moomintroll, but I’m not sure how hide-and-seek or croquet or badminton is going to help.”

Moomintroll’s blue eyes met his in surprise before he erupted into giggles. “Not those kind of games, Snuf! I mean bedroom games.” At the mumrik’s blank stare, he elaborated. “When you make up a little story and play out a part. It’s like playing pretend. Just… with sex.”

Absolutely mystified, Snufkin struggled to wrap his mind around such a concept. To hear most grown creatures talk, lovemaking was a serious business. There seemed little room for frivolity. “You can do that?”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite fun,” Moomintroll explained eagerly. “Snorkmaiden’s very good at thinking up new scenarios for us to act out. Like ‘the dastardly outlaw carries off the sweet young lady to have his wicked way with her.’ She does so like being run away with, and she says I’ve gotten much better at pretending to be a wicked brigand. Oh, or ‘the black-hearted pirate queen takes the delicate gentlemoomin hostage.’ She had Pappa teach her a bunch of sailor’s knots for that one. Or ‘glamorous film stars have a secret rendezvous in the starlet’s dressing room before the grand premiere.’ She wanted to sneak back into the theater to make it more authentic, but I convinced her the stage manager would be really cross if she found out, so we just used her bedroom instead.”

“Snorkmaiden has always had quite the vivid imagination,” Snufkin agreed faintly. Playing make-believe had always been her favorite game when they were children. The knowledge that his friends still enjoyed such a whimsical pastime (albeit in slightly naughtier ways) as they grew to adulthood warmed his heart. The suddenly pressing thought of what role they could assign him in such a game warmed other locations further south.

“She really does!” Moomintroll nodded, clearly pleased. “She reads so many books, but I keep telling her she should write her own. I’m sure they’d be popular.”

“What... what do you think she would write about?” Snufkin asked, desperate to distract himself. Never mind that he had been their favorite playmate in childhood; despite what his irrational hormones suggested, Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden most certainly would not want any additional creatures involved in their ‘bedroom games.’

Moomintroll considered. His paws resumed their journey almost absently, stroking the vagabond’s back, hips, and upper thighs. “Oh, a classic romance, I suppose. Pining lovers finally confessing their feelings to one another after a series of hurdles and misunderstandings.” His snout brushed the tip of Snufkin’s nose with a grin. “And then stealing away to consummate their eternal love with lots of passionate and very explicit tomfoolery. And a great deal of flowery language.”

Snufkin chuckled unsteadily. His paws gripped at his boyfriend’s shoulders. His hips shifted not-so-subtly against the soft lap he rested on. “Must it be flowery?”

“Oh, yes.” Moomintroll nodded gravely, a smile lurking about his muzzle. “That’s one of the most important requirements for a quality romance novel, you see. No doubt it would have to be something like ‘a great white storm of frothing foam and surging waves, the dashing Moomin unleashed his tempestuous passions upon his lover’s unspoilt shores.’ Or some such horrible thing.”

Laughing outright now, Snufkin seized his snout and nuzzled it soundly. “You are ridiculous and I love you terribly. Also, I believe you should choose some explicit tomfoolery to introduce me to. Quite soon. Before I lose whatever might be left of my mind.”

“Oh.” At once Moomintroll sat up straighter in thought. “Well then. Um. H-how would you feel about me taking you in my mouth?”

Snufkin’s claws dug unintentionally into soft, white fur in shock. As it happened, he had several feelings about such a proposal, and all of them were quite positive (to put it mildly). Wide-eyed, tail wavering like a pendulum between eagerness and nervousness, he nodded dumbly.

Seeming relieved that his suggestion had been well received, the troll smiled a bit sheepishly. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect since I haven’t got any practice doing that with boys’ bits, but it still felt really good the first time I had it done to me and Snorkmaiden didn’t have any practice then either, so it should be alright.”

“I... I’m sure it will be,” Snufkin breathed, lungs momentarily rebelling at the mental picture of his boyfriend quivering beneath the lovely maiden’s exuberant experimentations. He couldn’t even muster the decency to be ashamed of himself for being even more aroused at the thought. Not with the imminent promise of experiencing the same.

“I’ll do my best,” Moomintroll assured determinedly. He glanced around, and down at the log upon which they were perched. For one wild moment Snufkin thought that he meant to proceed right then and there, but then his eyes lingered upon the tent. “Well. Do we want to go ahead and get settled in for the night?”

Snufkin was sure he had never banked a fire so quickly in his life. It was, however, quite gratifying to notice how Moomintroll fumbled just as hurriedly to light the lantern with overeager paws.

They stumbled into the tent together. Snufkin firmly zipped the flap, shutting out the night and them inside. The soft glow of the lantern illuminated the small interior. Moomintroll placed it carefully in the corner and busily began to smooth and straighten their ‘bed’ (Snufkin’s bedroll spread over with one of the Moomin’s soft blankets). It was terribly cozy and domestic, to have everything he needed right there in their own little space, Snufkin thought. His trusty hat. His stalwart fishing rod. His splendid Moomintroll. A soft place that smelled of them both. Surely there could be nothing more that a mumrik could ever need.

Pesky nesting instincts, he thought without an ounce of true annoyance.

Moomintroll glanced back over his shoulder. “My goodness, you’re purring so loudly! Are you really so awfully happy?”

Snufkin smiled foolishly. “Sniff couldn’t be any happier than I am right now if he had a golden throne on top of a mountain of diamonds.”

Moomintroll laughed, but it did nothing to hide the pleased flush on his snout. “Wow, that’s very happy, indeed.”

“I daresay I have quite a lot to be happy about,” Snufkin agreed. He took off his hat and placed it carefully atop his pack in another corner. He was reaching for his scarf when a soft paw intercepted.

“Please, do you think I could do this part?” Moomintroll asked a bit shyly. The flush had bloomed further beneath his fur, visible even in the lantern glow.

Stomach fluttering pleasantly, his own blush warming his cheeks, Snufkin sat back on his knees and inclined his chin helpfully. “Be my guest.”

Almost reverently, Moomintroll unwound the vagabond’s scarf. Folding it neatly, he set it aside. “May I do the rest, too? I may have, uh. Thought about undressing you a few times.”

“Only a few?” Snufkin laughed. He did, however, shuffle around obligingly so that the troll could reach the buttons at the back of his coat. As Moomintroll carefully undid them, Snufkin removed his own boots, fingers unusually clumsy on the laces. “Suddenly all of this clothing seems highly unnecessary...”

Moomintroll giggled as he tugged at the coat, prompting Snufkin to lift his arms and be helped out of it. “Grow some more fur and you wouldn’t have to bother with them. Unless you wanted to. Even Moomins like a fancy dress every now and then.” Moominmamma was a talented seamstress despite the fact that she rarely donned more than her signature apron, and Snorkmaiden did so love a pretty frock every once in a while.

“I believe I’ve grown as much fur as I care to, thank you very much.” Though, Snufkin couldn’t deny that just now the thought of never wearing clothes again was more than a bit appealing. The feel of Moomintroll’s paws slipping beneath the hem of his shirt added weight to the notion. Between them the garment was shrugged off. Then he was pulling off his trousers and underclothes for the second time that day, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing even as the appreciative eyes upon his bare form made the fur on his tail and forearms prickle.

“You’re very lovely, Snufkin,” Moomintroll whispered softly, leaning in close as if he were imparting a very important secret.

With no hat to hide under and no scarf to worry with, the mumrik did his best not to curl up shyly under such an adoring gaze. “You’re the one who looks like moonlight on fresh snow,” he muttered, ridiculously pleased despite himself that his love found him pleasing.

Moomintroll made a delighted little sound. Seeming unable to help himself any longer, he tugged Snufkin into a tight hug. Snufkin’s thoughts skipped like a record, completely derailed by the sudden feeling of being pressed fully against the soft carpet of white fur. It had felt nice against his bare skin while they had been in the hot spring, but dry and fluffy it was an entirely different experience. He felt he could sink into it like a cloud. Without conscious permission, his paws began to roam. Clearly taking it as a sign that he was likewise permitted to distribute pettings, the Moomin’s own paws began to map up and down Snufkin’s spine.

Snufkin shivered, the tuft of his tail poofing as his arousal slid through the fur of his boyfriend’s lower belly.

Moomintroll pulled back just enough to glance down between them. “All ready to go again, then?”

“Right now it feels like I may never not be ready to go again,” Snufkin muttered, rather embarrassed.

“That is how seasonal cycles usually work, I suppose,” Moomintroll agreed. “But not to worry; you’ll be back to your normal level of ‘ready’ in a few days.” He glanced back up curiously. “Erm. What is your normal level of ‘ready,’ anyway? Just for future reference.”

“That depends quite a lot on whether or not there are any handsome Moomintrolls about.”

Moomintroll’s tail wagged happily. His paw wandered down the trail of fluff decorating the vagabond’s tummy. “Well, in that case you may actually stay ready to go until winter.”

“You sound terribly upset by that prospect,” Snufkin huffed wryly, leaning into the touch. His own paw slipped lower through his boyfriend’s soft fur, returning the sensual petting in kind. But when they each reached their destination, Moomintroll slowly stroking Snufkin’s very interested shaft from tip to base with obvious adventuresome enjoyment, Snufkin’s own fingers met… an empty expanse of fur between the troll’s legs. “You don’t have to try to hold yourself back, you know,” he panted, hips twitching up involuntarily. “I promise, I don’t mind.”

Moomintroll’s ears flattened a bit bashfully. “Well, you see, I’m not actually trying this time. It’s just taking me a bit longer since we’ve already gone twice. Someone in this tent—I won’t mention any names—has an unfair hormonal advantage.” He shivered as Snufkin’s unrepentant fingers stroked the exceptionally soft fur hiding his most secret place. “Keep doing that, though, and I’ll catch up in a jiffy.”

Given permission, Snufkin nuzzled into his lover’s chest fluff and continued his gentle but eager explorations. After a moment, something that would have been more obvious without the distracting haze of arousal occurred. His head co*cked in mild puzzlement. “Hmm. Where are your…?”

“My what?” Moomintroll gave himself a little shake, a bit dazed at the loving attention.

“Your testicl*s.”

“Oh, my ‘delicate moominian marbles’?” Clearly that could be nothing else but Snorkmaiden’s flowery language. “They’re inside, too. Those don’t come out, though. You can kind of feel them—just here.” Ears pink, Moomintroll took his paw and led it downwards. Lo and behold, beneath the short fur just below the slit where his shaft emerged, two firm lumps could clearly be felt.

Intrigued, Snufkin pet the area gently. His thumb rubbed softly at the very small, delicate sheath around the slit, now suspiciously damp. There was a squeak from Moomintroll. Suddenly the full length of his arousal slid neatly out at attention. Faced with a full frontal view of it for the first time, Snufkin stared dumbly. “Carrot,” he blurted unthinkingly.

Understandably nonplussed, Moomintroll blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Carrot,” he uttered again, the only word his addled brain seemed able to produce. Oh, but it did look like one, didn’t it? Wider at the bottom and tapered at the tip with just the slightest pleasant curve; he could absolutely see why Snorkmaiden would have suggested it as something for him to practice sucking on—

To his complete horror, Snufkin began to giggle.

Thank the Booble and everything precious, Moomintroll looked less offended than utterly perplexed. His ears twitched as he struggled to puzzle out what was happening. When understanding did dawn, however, his eyes widened hugely. “Wait just a berry-picking minute! That’s why you and Snorkmaiden were having a conversation about carrots? Comparing them to my moominhood?!”

“I’m so sorry,” Snufkin laughed helplessly, covering his flaming face despairingly with his paws. “She started it.”

“Why, I never!” The picture of playful indignation, Moomintroll dove, paws scuttling like beach crabs to tickle along Snufkin’s naked sides. With a squawk of surprise the mumrik tried to scramble away, but of course inside the tiny tent there was nowhere to go. Moomintroll had him by the ankles and was pulling him back across the blankets in an instant. “I was withholding a comment about how your business resembles a mushroom, but now I shall speak my mind, good sir.”

Snufkin cackled, arms over his middle in a futile bid to block those tickling paws. “Ah-ha! Mercy, mercy!” His tail thrashed wildly, briefly tangling up with Moomintroll’s own. “Oh, oh my goodness—this is fun, Moomintroll!”

“Well, I should hope it’s fun.” Sitting back with his fists on his hips, the troll grinned down at the panting mumrik. “Why else would anyone do it? I mean, besides making babies. Which you and I don’t have to worry about, thankfully.” He glanced down over the soft swell of his tummy, to where the interruption hadn’t seemed to hinder his arousal. “… it does look rather like a carrot, doesn’t it. Less orange, though, thankfully.”

Snufkin bit his lip against more laughter. He lay limply atop their improvised bed, paws wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. “I was lamenting my complete lack of experience with intimate matters and Snorkmaiden suggested paws-on practice with one. She was joking, of course, but we laughed so hard about it that I believe the Snork thought we needed our heads examined.”

Moomintroll sighed dramatically. “It can’t be helped. I suppose I’ll simply have to tickle her, too.”

“You fiendish creature, laying paws on such a virtuous maiden,” Snufkin scolded with mock severity that was followed near instantly with another giggle.

“She’s just as likely to lay paws on me first, I promise you,” Moomintroll assured with a cheeky grin. It mellowed into a gentler smile as he watched the vagabond try to collect his wits. “Now, are you going to behave yourself and let me taste you or not?”

At the reminder of their original plan, Snufkin sucked in a sharp breath and nodded quickly. He realized suddenly that he was sprawled out quite bare; something he hardly ever dared, even on the warmest nights of summer. Gooseflesh and raised fur prickled at his body. With great effort he held back from covering himself with his paws or worming his way beneath the blanket. Moomintroll deserved to behold him in all his scrawny, patchy-furred glory (such as it was) and he would not disappoint.

Indeed, Moomintroll gazed down at him with much the same expression he wore when looking at the dinner table laden with Moominmamma’s delicious dishes after a long day of adventures. It was enough to make the mumrik squirm in a combination of shyness and undeniable arousal. He could feel himself hardening even further beneath such appreciative scrutiny.

Moomintroll leaned in. His snout brushed Snufkin’s nose in a brief nuzzle before wandering over his forehead, across both cheeks, and down the side of his neck. Mumrik claws, tiny but sharp, hooked into the blanket as the soft, teasing caresses trailed across his collarbones, then his chest, then down the flat plane of his stomach. Snufkin mewled, body giving a sudden involuntary jerk when the feathery softness finally, finally nuzzled against his aching co*ck, rolling it against his belly.

Moomintroll hummed back in response, his own breath unsteady. “Now, keep in mind I’ve never done this before, but—”

“I have absolute faith in your ability to improvise,” Snufkin assured quickly, back arching as he nudged his hips up (as politely as possible given the circ*mstances).

Much like when they kissed the mymble way, Moomintroll’s large snout presented a bit of an obstacle. He overcame it by lying flat between Snufkin’s legs, taking Snufkin in hand, and then guiding the intended target beneath his snout and to his mouth like an ice lolly. It meant that Snufkin could see nothing of what was happening except that round, white nose, but he could certainly feel the exact instant a hot tongue laved experimentally over the tip of him. It was enough to draw out a gasp of surprise, which seemed to be all that was needed to encourage Moomintroll to dive headfirst into the experience and take a good bit of it straight into his mouth. (He had, after all, always been eager to explore; it was one of his qualities that the vagabond admired most.)

“Ah! Oh… oh goodness,” Snufkin muttered, feeling sweat break out on his brow. One of Moomintroll’s paws remained wrapped around the base of his shaft, holding it steady as he sucked and licked. His free paw found a grip at Snufkin’s waist; a subtle reminder to keep still and let the troll go at the pace he felt comfortable with.

Snufkin’s paws fluttered like flustered sparrows; from the blankets, to the warm snout resting on his heaving belly, to tangle in his own hair, to covering his burning face as the pleasure washed over him. His legs shook, toes gripping at the fluff of the Moomin’s thighs. Oh, clearly he had the most wonderful Moomintroll in the entire world, to be willing to do something so amazing to him, for him. He simply had to reciprocate somehow!

His restless paws slid up Moomintroll’s snout, combed through the little tuft of fluff between his ears, and then curled around them thoughtlessly. His thumbs rubbed in tandem at their smooth pink insides.

“Mmmrrfff!” The little white ears in his paws shot up stiff and straight as Moomintroll swallowed hard around him, taking him even deeper.

Stroke his ears while he’s got his snout between your legs. Like a bolt of lightning, he recalled Snorkmaiden’s candid words. Drives him wild. Determinedly, he began to stroke and fondle.

Things quickly began to unravel. Moomintroll moaned and groaned softly around his mouthful, volume changing with the slightest difference in the movement of Snufkin’s fingers. Such responsiveness only served to stir Snufkin up further. He felt the precipice approaching and tried to give warning. “Mmmn! Moomintroll, wait, I—I’m going to—”

The paws on Snufkin’s waist gripped even tighter. Moomintroll’s snout slid firmly against his belly as his efforts redoubled.

“Moomintroll! Moomee, moomin moomin moomiiiiin—!” he called, throwing his head back as he spent against his partner’s diligent tongue. His toes dug into the blankets, lifting his hips as much as the troll’s tight grip on them would allow as he struggled through the deluge of sensation. Moomintroll swallowed around him, drawing out the pleasure as Snufkin squirmed, tail whapping the blankets in his euphoria.

For long moments, only their breathing broke the silence, as harsh as if they had been running full tilt up the mountainside.

“Oh, Moomintroll,” Snufkin whispered at last, staring unseeingly at the sloping canvas above them. “That was… I can’t even tell you properly how magnificent that was.” With some difficulty he propped himself up on his elbows to look down at his beloved.

“I’m… I’m very glad you enjoyed it, Snufkin.” Head-fluff mussed, ears and snout red, the fur around his mouth damp and messy, Moomintroll looked back at him with dazed blue eyes.

A deep purr thrummed up unbidden in the mumrik’s chest. He pushed himself up into a sitting position as Moomintroll did the same. His paws found the troll’s warm snout at once and pulled it into kissing range. “Enjoy doesn’t begin to describe it,” he mumbled between adoring pecks. “Please, Moomintroll, you must let me return the favor.”

Moomintroll’s thoroughly-loved ears flattened sideways. “Well. Erm. Yes, certainly. But—but perhaps tomorrow?”

Mystified, Snufkin pulled back to look at him properly. The snout still held tenderly in his paws grew even redder. On a hunch, he glanced downward. The troll’s snowy stomach sported whorls of sticky fluff. There appeared to be a wet spot on the blanket. “Oh.”

Dainty white paws shot up to cover his eyes in shame. “Please excuse me; I need to go drown myself immediately.”

“Oh no, Moomintroll!” Impossibly fond laughter swelled up like champagne bubbles in Snufkin’s chest. He draped himself over the Moomin’s back, arms firmly hugging furry shoulders as his boyfriend tried to turn away toward the tent door. “No, no, no. You are the most splendid of Moomins and I’m so very happy you enjoyed that, too. Please don’t be embarrassed. Of course I’ll wait. We have all the time in the world.”

Moomintroll slouched under his weight. With a sigh of resignation he toppled over, pulling Snufkin with him across the blanket. “Still. You’d think that I was the one who hadn’t done this sort of thing before. That was a rookie mistake.” He rubbed at his pouting muzzle with the back of one paw.

“I’m not sure it counts as a mistake if we both enjoyed ourselves,” Snufkin observed.

“I suppose there is that, yes.” Moomintroll gave a mighty stretch that flattened his round form like gooey marshmallow and hooked a paw into the straps of his rucksack. Somehow, without bothering to sit up, he fished his canteen from it and sprinkled some water across his besmirched stomach fur.

Snufkin watched sleepily as the troll scrubbed the spot halfheartedly with a corner of the blanket. His mumrik tongue was a bit rough. A pity he hadn’t thought to groom his love clean. He would have to remember it for next time.

“You know, we may have to give this blanket a wash at some point,” Moomintroll said, tossing away the used corner and rolling about until he could lift the clean portion, making his way beneath and inviting Snufkin to crawl in. “I should have brought a spare. Or no, wait—I could build a bath house by the hot spring! Just a small one. Then we could have blankets and bath-gowns and a few little camping things already right here whenever we visit.”

Snufkin chuckled helplessly as he curled up beside him. “You Moomins and your insatiable urge to build things.”

“It would be useful!” Moomintroll protested playfully. Snuggled in next to the vagabond, he stretched out a paw to turn down the lantern. “Goodnight, Snufkin. If you need anything in the night, just wake me up, alright?”

“I will,” Snufkin promised. “Goodnight, Moomintroll. Sweet dreams.” He buried his face in his bedfellow’s soft fluff with a purr as the light dimmed and went out completely, leaving them in cozy darkness. He couldn’t imagine needing anything at all, having already gotten everything he had ever wanted.

Chapter 15: A maiden's musings

Chapter Text

Despite her best efforts, Snorkmaiden did not pass a restful night. Like it or not, the Snork’s teasing had unwittingly led her to true introspection and a rather uncomfortable realization. She tossed and turned far into the wee hours, unable to stop herself from dwelling on thoughts of her two favorite boys and the activities they surely must be engaging in at that very moment, sequestered away in the romantic remoteness of the mountains.

Snorkmaiden prided herself on being a proper romantic with proper lurid fantasies. That evening, however, she was entirely unable to summon a daydream without Snufkin wandering into it. He would arrive with his sweet smile and his worldly outlook and his newly-furred paws that any rational troll must conclude would feel lovely lifting her snout for a nuzzle (or a mymble-kiss). He was also dear Moomintroll’s most trusted confidant (besides Snorkmaiden herself, of course). She had never given it much thought before, but now she realized that Moomintroll may have even confided in Snufkin the finer details of their love lives. She thought with a full-body bloom of color how it was possible that there might be a third creature in the world who knew just how she liked her tail to be stroked and her ears whispered into. As for just what the vagabond might whisper to a lover, no doubt it would be both dashing and sophisticated, and Snorkmaiden found herself dwelling on the possibilities far more than was proper of a good friend.

It seemed that once she had allowed herself to consider the faintest idea of Snufkin in a romantic light, it had taken root with the alarming speed of a seed that had been lying dormant, just waiting for a chance to sprout.

Moomintroll was as earnest and enthusiastic as a creature could be, and Snorkmaiden loved him dearly for it. That said, he was neither terribly dashing nor terribly sophisticated on any regular basis. She did not hold this against her dear marshmallow of a boyfriend. No one lover could realistically be everything one dreamed of. (It was a gem of advice she had mined from Mymble Jr. the previous autumn, one passed down from the Mymble herself.) However, given that quandary, Snorkmaiden set about doing a bit of math—usually her brother’s domain, but serious times required serious calculations. No matter how many times she double checked, the answer summed up to having two boyfriends.

Even if Moomintroll was amenable to the idea, however, it was a sum she highly suspected Snufkin would not agree with. Fretting over the revelation, she finally drifted off sometime in the gray space between when the stars began to dim and the birds began to sing.

- // - // - // - // -

A loud bang and crash woke Snorkmaiden what felt like mere moments later. She sat bolt upright in bed. The warm softness of her bedroom was washed with the sunrise.

“Snork!” Flinging off her blankets, she leapt from bed and dashed out into the hall. No matter how many times such things occurred in their house (far more often than any one maiden should have to deal with, she felt sure) the initial rush of panic never lessened. The worry that maybe her daft genius of a brother had finally managed to eject himself off the mortal coil alongside his newest invention clutched her chest as she stumbled down the stairs. “Snork, what’s happened? Are you alright?”

Her brother staggered out of the kitchen, coughing into one paw. A cloud of vaguely grain-scented smoke trailed after him. “Oh, you would come down now.” He adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew and seemed to be covered in beige-colored goop. “Just when things happened to get the smallest bit flammable. Why couldn’t you have woken up when the mixture was stabilizing so nicely?”

Seeing him whole and unharmed pummeled down the panic and made way for a flood of annoyance. Snorkmaiden’s ears laid back angrily, paws propping on her hips. “Because stabilizing rarely sounds like explosions, funnily enough. What have you done to my kitchen this time?” she demanded. “Didn’t you promise me just last fall that you’d keep your experiments in your room or in your workshop?” It was a conversation they seemed to have every autumn. She stood on tiptoe, trying to see past him to assess the destruction.

The Snork’s fur turned ashen grey in an instant. One arm shot up to block the doorway and her view. “I can fix it.”

“I certainly hope so.” Tail swishing grumpily, she stomped to the door. “I’m going to Moominhouse. If I come back this evening and my kitchen is still destroyed…” She let the what-ifs hang in the air as she pointedly closed the door behind her, keeping eye contact until the last possible moment.

Brothers.

Snorkmaiden descended the front steps with a huff. It was a typical Moominvalley spring morning—gorgeous blue sky, soft white clouds, birds singing their tiny hearts out in the meadows and forests—but between the rude awakening and general lack of beauty sleep, she couldn’t help but feel a bit uncharitable. Oh, for the day when her dear Moomintroll would try again to build them a home of their own!

She allowed herself a bit of longing as she set a leisurely course down the path. Of course they had both been too young and foolish to move out together the first time Moomintroll had taken it into his head to try his paw at house building, but she still looked back on their combined efforts with fondness. The next time they would get it right. Then she would have a kitchen untarnished by blast burns and chemical residue and the Snork could do what he liked with the old place. Probably knock down the walls and annex her bedroom into yet another workspace.

Science. Bah. Let the whole house fall to rack and ruin ‘round his ears. Just see if I care. She nodded firmly to herself. Moomee and I will have a lovely new home with a big verandah, and more space for a garden. Lots of rooms for our future little ones and for visitors, like Moominhouse has. It’ll need to be near the river so Snufkin can fish. But not too close to the best camping spots, so he won’t feel too crowded. There was surely a formula to calculate the optimal distance from domesticity that a vagabond needed to feel properly free while not being so far away that he wouldn’t feel he was part of the family, but mathematics reminded Snorkmaiden of her brother and that reminded her that she was cross. She finger-combed at her mussed fringe with a deep sigh.

It certainly would be nicer to be along with Moomintroll and Snufkin this morning, relaxing by a crackling campfire with a pancake and a warm cup of coffee. Or perhaps they hadn’t even woken up yet. She supposed it would depend on how knackered they were from the night before. The thought made her giggle. They could very well still be tucked cozily away inside Snufkin’s tent, wrapped snugly in one another’s arms. Moomintroll was a notorious sleep-nuzzler and would certainly have the mumrik cuddled close to his fluffy bulk. Snufkin would surely be purring, bare skin warmed by the troll’s soft fur. Perhaps there would even be room on one side or the other for her—

Snorkmaiden shook her head sharply. Snufkin’s tent was quite small; it had to be, to be light enough for him to easily carry the long distances that he roamed. Three grown creatures stuffed into it would be a crowd.

When was the last time I was even inside that tent? she wondered suddenly. Goodness, it might have even been before Snufkin started heading off on his own for the winter and was still tagging along with the Joxter. The reminder of how far apart they’d drifted as they grew up tinged her fur blue with another sigh. The boy had barely begun to see her as a real friend again and here she was, spinning fancies of romance. I do hope Moominmamma is at home...

As fate would have it, Snorkmaiden’s hopes were to be fulfilled.

“Good morning,” she called tentatively as she opened Moominhouse’s sturdy old front door. (No one in the large, extended family ever knocked.)

Moominmamma’s soft, round snout poked out almost immediately from the kitchen. “Why, good morning, Snorkmaiden.” The rest of her soft roundness followed with a welcoming but slightly surprised smile. “It’s so good to see you. I thought you would be with Moomintroll and Snufkin.”

It took a moment for Snorkmaiden to understand. When she did, her fur bloomed pink. Oh gosh, she still thinks Snufkin and I are lovers, too! Naturally she thought I would go along on their passionate interlude. She ought to set things straight as soon as possible. “Well, I—you see, Moominmamma, the thing is—”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. You don’t have to explain.” Moominmamma wiped floury paws on her apron and beckoned her into the kitchen. “Of course it’s not my business. The three of you get along so well, I’m sure you’ve all worked it out just fine.”

Tell her, tell her, tell her, Snorkmaiden chanted to herself as she followed the elder troll into the warm, sweet-smelling kitchen. Her mouth opened. “It’s just that—well—well, you know, Snufkin is still so much more comfortable around Moomintroll,” she stammered. “I’m not sure I would be very much help at all.” It was not, as such, untrue.

“Oh, I see.” Moominmamma nodded wisely. She adjusted a frying pan on the hob and reached for a bowl of thin batter set aside on the worktop. “It’s very good of you to recognize that and not try to rush him into things. Every relationship moves at its own pace.” Giving the batter a stir, she ladled a portion into the hot pan and rotated it with an expert twist of the wrist. “But since you aren’t up on the mountain after all, I hope you’ll join me for crepes.”

“Would that be alright?”

“Of course it will. I’m so glad you’re here. I was beginning to think I’d have to eat breakfast by myself today.”

The obvious warmth in Moominmamma’s voice soothed Snorkmaiden’s heart. She bustled in to help, momentarily forgetting about her internal dilemma as she fetched napkins and two sets of silverware to lay the table. “I’m glad, too. You wouldn’t believe what that brother of mine has done this morning. My kitchen is probably in shambles—he wouldn’t even let me look at the damage.”

“Oh, dear.” Trading the ladle for a pancake turner, Moominmamma winced sympathetically. “If there’s one thing we can always count on, it’s the Snork making a mess. Of course I’m endlessly proud of his ingenuity and curiosity, but I do wish he wouldn’t vex you so much with them. I’ll have to give him another talking to.” She corralled the crepe onto a platter with a small stack of others and moved it to the table next to a serving tray laden with jam jars, syrup pots, and a bowl of freshly whipped cream. “Would you find a spoon for the jam, dear?”

Mollified at the thought of her brother quailing beneath the weight of Moominmamma’s disappointment, Snorkmaiden sorted through the hodgepodge of the cutlery drawer. A finely carved wooden spoon with a long, thin handle caught her eye. “Ooh, this one’s lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

Moominmamma glanced at it with a smile. “Why, that was a special gift from Alicia. It’s quite unique.” She pulled a jug of juice from the icebox. “There now, I think that’s everything.”

“Are there any oranges?”

Snorkmaiden jumped at the unexpected voice behind her. “Oh!”

“Good morning, Joxter dear.” Completely unperturbed, Moominmamma collected a third plate from the cupboard. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I broke in through the study window, but Moominpappa doesn’t seem to be about.” The older mumrik’s tail twitched disgruntledly as he slouched into the kitchen. “Very inconsiderate of him.”

Moominmamma didn’t seem a bit surprised at the knowledge that the Joxter had been climbing her house and entering through windows. “Yes, he left quite early this morning to do some fishing down at the beach. He said he wanted to take the fresh air and clear his head. I’m afraid the writer’s block must be giving him trouble again. Do come have breakfast with us.”

Seeming resigned to making the best of the situation, the Joxter joined them at the table.

Moominmamma used the long wooden spoon to give the juice a stir. “I’m afraid there are no oranges, but what about some orange juice?” Knowing from her husband’s stories of their youth how much the mumrik had enjoyed idyllic days in the orange tree groves in more southern climes, she poured him a glass.

He sipped, whiskers twitching in pleasant surprise. “It’s very good. Thank you, Moominmamma.”

Moominmamma swirled the spoon inside the jug with a mischievous smile. “And your favorite is mango, isn’t it, dear?” she asked, already pouring into Snorkmaiden’s glass. The juice that flowed forth smelled distinctly unlike oranges.

Snorkmaiden took a curious sip. Her ears pinged up in shock. “My goodness! However did you do that, Moominmamma?”

“Do what?” the Joxter asked, slyly fishing a crepe off the platter and onto his own plate.

“This is absolutely mango juice. It’s completely changed!” Snorkmaiden gulped a second mouthful just to be certain.

Moominmamma chuckled merrily. “Oh, well, one never knows what might happen when one uses a spoon enchanted by a witch.” She stirred the liquid in the jug a third time. “Let’s see, I think I’ll have something summery today—blueberry will be just the thing.”

The Joxter nodded, spooning a generous mound of whipped cream over his crepe as the deep purple juice filled her glass. “That little witch is getting to be quite the talent. I’m surprised it doesn’t do something more sinister, though. Curdle your milk or turn juice to pond scum or something like that.”

“Apparently it was meant to, but the spell didn’t turn out quite right. Really I think Alicia is too sweet-tempered to cast an awful spell like that. She didn’t want to throw it out so she gave it to me for a present, because we have so many guests and parties.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have wanted to throw it out either,” Snorkmaiden agreed, tracing the curled snail’s shell carved into the rounded end of the handle. “The carving is so delicate. I wonder if Snufkin could make me one like it. Of course it couldn’t transform juice, but it would still be pretty.”

“I’m sure he could. Snufkin is quite clever that way. He whittled me a new grip for the handle of my favorite pot last summer.” Moominmamma reached out to pat Snorkmaiden’s paw. “You know, dear, you and Moomintroll have always shared so much together—books, cakes, walks in the forest. It’s so nice to see you’ve found someone to share, too. And a someone as fine as Snufkin, no less.”

The Joxter broke into a sudden coughing fit. Small pieces of crepe and cream showered the tablecloth. “What?!”

Snorkmaiden’s tail went rigid out the back of her chair.

Radiating concern, Moominmamma patted him firmly on the back. “Oh, dear, did Snufkin not tell you?”

The Joxter wiped his whiskers indignantly with the sleeve of his coat. The napkin at his elbow lay untouched. “He did not, the little urchin. I was told that he was partnered up with Moominkit—er, Moomintroll, and that you three had ‘figured it out,’ but he didn’t say a word about joining Moomintroll in courting you, Snorkmaiden.”

She really, really ought to clear up this misunderstanding before it spread any further. Surely she wouldn’t get a better opportunity. Yet, somehow, Snorkmaiden couldn’t bring herself to do it. “W-well, you know how it is—Snufkin is a very private creature.” She fiddled with her own napkin nervously, hoping her fur would behave itself and not give the game away. Fibbing convincingly was not a skill she had ever been keen to acquire. “Perhaps he was feeling shy. It’s a big step going from having no special someones to having two special someones.”

“Still.” The mumrik held a paw over his heart dramatically. “Imagine, withholding such an important detail from his own father. I’m wounded.”

Moominmamma clasped her paws worriedly. “You’re not upset, are you?”

“Not a whit.” Amusem*nt had begun to overtake the minor offense at his son’s supposed slight. “Actually I’m quite proud. Not that Moomintroll doesn’t have excellent qualities as well, but Snufkin would be a fool to overlook a lass like Snorkmaiden if she showed interest. Lovely, clever, charming, good cook, likes adventures—what’s not to admire?”

Quite without her permission, Snorkmaiden’s fur took on a distinctly happy hue. When the Joxter put it like that, well, it almost made her think that the imaginary trio the parents believed in might actually have a chance of becoming reality. “Aww, Uncle Jox, you’re too kind.”

“He hasn’t said anything that isn’t quite true, dear,” Moominmamma told her firmly. “You’ve grown into quite the admirable young lady.”

Now thoroughly red, Snorkmaiden covered her blushing snout with her paws under the deluge of their combined compliments. “Moominmamma…”

“Oh, dear. Let’s talk about something that won’t put poor Snorkmaiden on the spot, shall we?” Moominmamma deftly steered the conversation into less embarrassing waters. Adding some lingonberry preserves to her crepe, she rolled it neatly and pinned the Joxter with her attention. “Do tell us about your winter travels, Joxter. Did you meet any interesting characters?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. You know that little brown hairball who’s always making life difficult for innocent creatures who only want to nap in peace?”

“Who? You don’t mean Stinky?”

“Yes, that disagreeable fellow. I’d never seen another creature quite like him, but this winter I actually happened to meet one. They’re called scent sprites, and thankfully they don’t all smell as rotten as the local specimen. Apparently they’re born without any smell at all and the scent they develop changes along with their personalities. The one I spoke with was named Camilla. Her fur was pale orange and she smelt very sweetly of flowers. Her parents owned a bakery and wouldn’t you know, they smelt of pastries.”

“My goodness, that is interesting! I suppose we’ll have to hold out hope that Stinky may yet reform and begin smelling a bit better, then. There’s a remedy for excessive smelliness in Grandma Moomin’s recipe book, but he won’t hold still long enough for me to try it on him.”

Snorkmaiden nibbled at her breakfast, only half listening. As fascinating as she always found the tales of the travelers in her life, this morning her mind insisted on doing its own wandering elsewhere. As she seemed to be incapable of admitting that there was nothing romantic between herself and Snufkin, it stood to reason that she would simply have to make a try at turning that nothing into something.

If Snufkin and I did start courting, well then, it wouldn’t have been a lie really, would it? she reasoned, working her way steadily through the sweet, eggy crepes. They needn’t know that it happened a bit later than everyone thought. All’s well that ends well. Now, how to bring it up with Moomintroll? I should certainly speak with him first…

“You’re thinking very hard about something,” the Joxter eventually observed.

Snorkmaiden patted her mouth daintily with her napkin. “Oh, I was just thinking about my plans for the rest of the day. I believe I’ll go pay Mymble Jr. a visit. She loaned me a book that I’ve had for simply ages; I should get it back to her.” And while she was there, it couldn’t hurt to borrow a few new ones. Such a romancing as the one she was prepared to carry out would require every ounce of her charm, all of her feminine wiles, and a good bit of inspiration.

Moominmamma smiled at her. “That sounds lovely.” She reached out, halting the young snork’s paws as she tried to pick up her empty plate. “I have a feeling you might have more than your share of cleaning waiting for you at home, dear. Leave this to me. Joxter will help out. Won’t you, Joxter?”

The mumrik’s eyes widened and his tail fluffed out in dread at the mention of work, but one stern glance from Moominmamma kept even the notorious Joxter from fleeing the chore. “… but of course, Moominmamma. Would be delighted.”

“Well then, in that case I’ll be off. Thank you for breakfast, Moominmamma. See you later!” With a wave Snorkmaiden departed. Her feet pointed her homeward to retrieve the borrowed book. Her head remained in the clouds, hard at work on figuring the best course of action to win joint romantic custody of her favorite traveling friend.

- - - - -

The Joxter watched the front door swing shut with some amusem*nt. After Snorkmaiden had gone, he turned a lazy smile upon Moominmamma. “Goodness. These young creatures and their boundless energy. Do you know, she reminds me very much of another plucky troll maiden I met once upon a time…”

Her ears wiggled teasingly. “Oh, what a coincidence. I wonder who it could be.” Rising, she began to gather the dishes together. “Now Joxter, I’ll let you off with simply putting away the juice and jams. But you mustn’t for any reason go down and bother Moominpappa at the bathhouse this morning. He needs complete quiet and solitude so he can concentrate.”

The mumrik’s blue eyes took on a familiar gleam. “Why, of course not. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

“Wonderful.” Moominmamma began to stack the dirty dishes with a small smile.

The Joxter quickly tidied up the preserves and exited through the window over the sink with a preoccupied farewell. As the end of his tail disappeared over the sill, Moominmamma began to chuckle quietly to herself. A bit of distraction from his own thoughts would do her dear husband a world of good.

- // - // - // - // -

Snorkmaiden opened her front door to a snout-high wall of bubbles.

She stood still for a moment, doorknob in paw, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in before slowly shutting the door. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and silently counted to ten. “Snork!” she called over the faint fizzing sound inside, opening the door once more. “Snork, what in the world is going on here?”

Summoned from the depths of the bubbles, her brother’s head and shoulders appeared. He seemed to be wearing a yellow slicker and a rain hat. “Oh, Snorkmaiden, you’re back. What do you think of my new cleaning solution?” He spread his arms, encompassing the chaos. The bubbles shifted in shimmering waves around him. “The bubbles do all the cleaning for you! And the more bubbles, the more cleaning they do.”

“Oh, it’s… it’s something, alright,” Snorkmaiden agreed. At the very least, bubbles (even such a massive amount of them) had to be better than whatever he had been doing in the kitchen earlier.

The Snork puffed with pride. “I theorize that once they neutralize all of the mess, they’ll simply pop and dry up. Problem solved.”

“You theorize?” Snorkmaiden clarified pointedly. “You’re not sure if they will or not?”

“Well, this is the first full-scale trial run, but my research indicates an eighty-seven point six percent chance of that outcome. Odds are excellent that you’ll never have to waste an afternoon cleaning the house again!”

She couldn’t fault him for his enthusiasm. “I’ll look forward to that. Are the bubbles upstairs, too?”

“No, they’re only about a third of the way up the stairs. I could mix some more of the cleaning solution if you’d like me to do the second floor as well—”

“No!” She waved her paws frantically, dispersing the bubbles that had begun to float out the door to meet her. They drifted away on the spring breeze. “No, that’s quite alright. You’ve done more than enough already. I’ll take care of everything else myself.”

“Well, alright. If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely positive.” Snorkmaiden steeled herself and plunged into the bubbles, walking on tiptoe to keep her snout clear. They tingled faintly as they made contact with her fur. Hoping desperately that she was merely getting a mild sanitizing and wouldn’t later go bald all over, she hurried to the stairs.

As the Snork had promised, the upper floor of the house was still dry ground. Snorkmaiden shook herself off and quickly fetched Mymble’s book from her bedroom. It was days like today that made her wish she also had a rope ladder attached to her window. With nothing else for it, she descended back into the bubbles with the book held high over her head.

“Off again so soon?” the Snork asked as her head and arms passed by, leaving bow waves in the bubble sea.

“I’m popping over to Mymble Jr.’s for a bit to return this book. See you later.” As she escaped for the second time that day, Snorkmaiden felt distinctly thankful that in Moominvalley, she could always count on finding an open door and a friendly face when she needed one.

Chapter 16: Midmorning Comforts

Chapter Text

Snufkin woke sweating and shivering. For a moment he thought that he must have come down quite ill in the night and needed to find his way to Moominmamma as soon as possible for medicines and soothing teas and a sickbed in Moominhouse’s guestroom. Almost immediately, though, he registered the warm, fluffy form at his back and the white-furred arm wrapped snugly around him. Awash with instant relief, he relaxed. (At least, all but one part of himself relaxed.)

Based on the light inside the tent it was morning; well past sunrise, but still firmly in the neighborhood of breakfast-time. They had managed to sleep through the night without Snufkin needing to pester poor Moomintroll with his urges.

His very dear, wonderful Moomin. What would Snufkin do without him? If not for Moomintroll, what had so far been an admittedly embarrassing but very pleasurable and heartfelt experience would have been utterly unbearable. Snufkin thought about trying to weather his seasonal cycle all alone, as he had originally planned, and shivered unpleasantly. What if he hadn’t come home to Moominvalley that spring and wound up inadvertently confessing his love to Moomintroll? What if he had never spoken to his parents and learned about mumrik cycles at all? Surely at that very moment he would have been hidden away by himself in some lonely place, truly believing that he was terribly ill. If he didn’t know any better he might even believe that he was dying, alone and unmissed. He buried himself further back against Moomintroll’s fluffy bulk at the miserable thought.

“Snufk’n?” came the sleepy query. “Are you alright?”

“I am cold and hot and stiff and blargh,” Snufkin mumbled, turning his clammy face into the relative softness of the blanket under his cheek. “And I am so very glad that you’re here.”

Instantly more awake, Moomintroll’s arm shifted from Snufkin’s waist to his ribs, hugging him from behind. “I’m glad I’m here, too. How are you holding up? What can I do?”

He had already done so very much. Snufkin curled to hug that strong arm, catching the paw attached to it and bringing it to his face for a rather desperate nuzzle. “Thank you for looking after me and loving me and not making me think that I’m dying.”

“Hey now, what’s all this? You’ll have nothing embarrassing left to blubber if we ever have too much to drink,” Moomintroll tutted, but kindly. “I don’t think you’re dying. But I can certainly imagine it might feel that way.” His snout nuzzled the back of Snufkin’s neck in a way that was most likely meant to be sympathetic, but made the mumrik’s toes curl with want. “Should we see if we can make that a little better?”

“Yes please,” Snufkin entreated, already pressing back against Moomintroll’s soft thighs. “Thank you. Please.”

A steadying paw gently extracted itself from Snufkin’s hold and landed on his hip instead. “Oh, wow. You’re really itching for it this morning, aren’t you?”

“Burning would be a more accurate description.” If his grumble was a bit petulant, well, could he really be blamed? The mumrik wriggled restlessly, doing his level best to press as much of himself against his boyfriend’s soft, warm fur as possible.

Luckily, Moomintroll seemed to be rising swiftly to the occasion. The warm, damp tip of his awakening erection dragged almost teasingly across Snufkin’s bare skin. He shivered, scattered fur standing up as it brushed a hitherto-unknown sensitive spot where his rump met upper thigh. His tail quivered as if torn between swatting at the tickle or twitching away to better allow for more contact.

Dimly, an idea began to form.

“How’s this?” Moomintroll asked, slipping a paw down Snufkin’s belly. It wrapped gently around his straining shaft, then gave a firm, reassuring stroke. “Is this alright?”

The jolt of pleasure and his own gasp of surprised relief nearly knocked the half-formed idea from the mumrik’s head. It was a good thought, though—an intriguing thought—so he grasped to keep it from sneaking away. Holding Moomintroll’s paw just where it was to convey his enthusiastic approval, Snufkin stretched out his free arm and managed to hook a claw into the strap of the satchel Snorkmaiden had left him with the morning before. Its contents spilled out over the tent floor. As if summoned by his need, a thermos rolled directly to the edge of the blankets. He let go of Moomintroll’s paw to snatch at it like a prize fish.

Snout buried in his boyfriend’s messy bed hair, Moomintroll hadn’t seemed to take notice. He hummed happily, paw stroking in tandem with the restless shifting of Snufkin’s narrow hips. His fully unsheathed erection pressed, unobtrusive but tantalizing, against warm skin. “Is this enough, or would you like something else as well? I could suck you again if you like—”

Levering himself up on one elbow, Snufkin looked back over his shoulder and raised the thermos triumphantly.

Blue eyes focused on the presented object. A moment later they widened in recognition. “The lubricant Snorkmaiden gave us?”

“Exactly.” Snufkin’s paws grappled with smooth metal as he fought the tightness of the lid. She had been so very kind to make it for them; to ease their pleasure. He pressed back against his boyfriend’s stiffness meaningfully. “It would be a shame not to try it out.”

“Oh.” Moomintroll’s ears went bright red. “Oh, goodness.” His paw went still around Snufkin’s length, producing an involuntary and rather distraught moan. “Um—okay. Let me just take care of this first and then we’ll talk when your head’s a bit clearer, alright?”

Snufkin nearly protested. His idea was surely a good one. If Moomintroll felt so nice rubbing against his rump, how nice must being rubbed inside feel? Then the paw wrapped around him began to move again and all he could do was wriggle and pant happily, abandoning the thermos to grasp needily at the bedroll. Moomintroll did something amazing, twisting and squeezing just so, and suddenly Snufkin was coming, spurting over his boyfriend’s paw. He bit his lip hard, squeaking and squirming in bliss as Moomintroll stroked him through it.

“There,” the troll declared triumphantly. He kept his soiled paw, a casualty of battle, well clear of the blanket as Snufkin melted to the bedroll in a limp, purring puddle. “All better?”

“Mm-hmmm.” Snufkin summoned a series of satisfied mumbles. Eyes closed contentedly, he felt Moomintroll move just slightly away from his back. There was a rustling among their supplies as he presumably located a pocket handkerchief. Snufkin could have almost fallen back to sleep there like a spoilt house pet in a sunbeam if not for the niggling feeling that he should reciprocate.

Looking very satisfied with himself, Moomintroll tidied his paw. When Snufkin rolled languidly onto his back to peer up at him, he set the handkerchief aside to stroke the mumrik’s bare middle dotingly. “How are you feeling now?”

“More like a pampered house pet every moment,” Snufkin decided with a lazy, teasing smile. “But I trust you won’t be trying to put me into any jars or collars or leads, so I’ll allow it. For the time being.”

“Benevolent of you,” Moomintroll assured. “And don’t worry. You’re far too big for a jar, and I’ve been told by a reliable source that collars and leads are very advanced accessories, so you’ve no need to worry about that just yet.”

Half-lidded brown eyes popped open in shock, then narrowed as the Moomin began to chuckle merrily into his paws. “Clearly I’m going to have to speak to Snorkmaiden about the sort of influence she’s been having on you.”

“And then you need to speak to Mymble Jr. about the sort of influence she’s been having on Snorkmaiden. The stories I could tell you about the scandalous things she’s told my innocent snowdrop.”

“Kindly remember that she is my sister and keep those stories to yourself,” Snufkin entreated with (mostly) feigned alarm. “But in the meantime…” He allowed a paw to drift through the snowy fur of his boyfriend’s soft belly, fetching up somewhere that wasn’t so very soft and stroking it gently at the Moomin’s sharp intake of breath. “Shall I take care of you, now?”

Moomintroll’s ears fluttered with indecision. “Oh. Um. Well, I won’t lie and say that I don’t want you to, but I’m a bit worried that if you do, you’ll be ready to go again before I am. I can’t look after you if I can’t keep up.” He twitched in Snufkin’s paw, fur rising at the sensation. “Keep up with you, I mean, not keep my—oh, you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Snufkin agreed, trying very hard not to laugh. It was just possible that Moomintroll had a valid point, regardless; he could feel the first stirrings of being ready and raring to go again already. “But it hardly seems fair to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll break even in the end.” With a grin, he reached over Snufkin’s sprawled form to collect the thermos that had rolled to the wayside. “So. You wanted to, ah. Give this a try…?” He tipped the thermos back and forth in demonstration, a faint sloshing echoing the motion.

Now that he was no longer actively chasing an org*sm, Snufkin had the decency to flush at his previous neediness. “Well, yes. But only if you also want to.”

“Oh, I definitely do. It’s wonderful to be connected together that way.” Little white ears, tinged a bashful pink, wiggled with anticipation. “I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page before we got started. Didn’t want it to just be your hormones talking, you know?”

“That’s very considerate of you, Moomintroll,” Snufkin praised, but already he was having trouble keeping his eyes on his boyfriend’s face and not fixated on what was below his belt (if Moomins regularly wore belts, that was). “Um. What did we need to talk about, again?”

“Mostly whether you want to be the one taking me or the one being taken, I suppose.”

The vagabond picked studiously at a loose thread on the bedroll. It was so much more embarrassing to put his desires into words than roll with the heat of the moment. “Well, you’re the one with experience in such things. I had assumed you would keep the lead.”

“I have experience with exactly one fair maiden, and no experience at all doing such things with another fellow,” Moomintroll pointed out with a rather flustered flip of his tail. “That’s a bit different. So we’re on equal footing there, if it makes any difference to you.”

Of course, that was right. Snufkin tried with little success not to imagine the nuances of lovemaking with said fair maiden and swallowed hard. “I believe it still counts.”

“Well, you only gain experience at something by doing it, don’t you?” Moomintroll sounded terribly logical all of a sudden. “I’m sure you’d pick it up straightaway, if you had a mind to try. You’re a very quick study at everything else.”

“Everything except romance,” Snufkin huffed, pulling the blanket over his red face. His hat, perched atop his pack in the corner, was too far to bother reaching for.

“I think you’re doing splendidly. But if you’d rather me keep leading for the moment, that’s fine, too.” A warm snout nuzzled the top of his head. “Now, let’s see what we have to work with…”

Snufkin peeked over the blanket as Moomintroll opened the thermos. Curiosity won out over embarrassment and he sat up, dipping one finger in to gather a bit of the stuff when it was held out to him obligingly.

“What’s it like?” Moomintroll asked.

Snufkin rubbed the pads of his finger and thumb together, testing the feel of the thick liquid, then spread them, watching with interest as the lubricant formed a shiny thread between them. “Hmm. Feels a bit like snail slime. But not sticky.”

The Moomin’s ears flattened with distaste. “Eww.”

“Alright then,” Snufkin chuckled, “perhaps not the best analogy. It’s more like the sap inside those spiky plants in the hemulen’s greenhouse. The ones Moominmamma used to make burn ointment. Slick, but thicker than water.”

Mollified, Moomintroll dribbled a bit out onto his own paw. He too squished it about curiously. Little by little his snout tinged pink. “It’s very much like… Well, never mind.”

“Like what?” Snufkin pressed, amused. “It can’t be worse than snail slime.”

“It’s like… how it feels when a lady is excited.”

The mumrik blinked rapidly, ears becoming even redder. “Oh. Oh, I see.” Reminded once more that Moomintroll had experience to back such a comparison, and with whom, he shifted uncomfortably as his shaft returned to full mast beneath the dubious cover of the blanket. Seems like the little pine tree’s going to have an extra branch for the rest of forever, a voice in the back of his head needled. It sounded disturbingly like Little My.

Naturally, Moomintroll noticed his boyfriend’s suddenly squirmier state. It seemed he was quickly becoming adept at spotting the signs of a needy Snufkin. With his dry paw, he ran an inviting finger along the blanket just where it most made Snufkin quiver with anticipation. “Well then, shall we?”

Snufkin held out a somewhat shaky paw. “Only if I can do the same.”

Grinning, Moomintroll passed the thermos. “Deal.”

Wrapping their paws around one another with the addition of the lubricant proved even better than Snufkin dared hope. Moomintroll’s erection felt so good in his grip, the incredibly soft and delicate skin hot and slippery to the touch. Only the thought of how good it was likely to feel inside of him if only he could be patient a bit longer kept him from leaning down for a quick taste. Meanwhile, Moomintroll’s paw moved over Snufkin almost reverently, attentive to every hitch of his breath and shift of his hips.

Snufkin felt his mind growing pleasantly hazy and willingly allowed himself to fall into the sensation. Oh, how wonderful it was, the tent gently warmed by morning light, birds calling in the fresh mountain air outside. No worries, no duties. Nothing to concern themselves with except feeling splendid and making the other feel splendid. It was more than enough to make any rational creature purr. So Snufkin did.

“Goodness, what’s the best way to do this…?” Moomintroll was muttering, seemingly torn between surrendering fully to the pleasure of Snufkin’s roaming paws and carrying on with the plan. “Could you shift over a bit so I can reach your… er… tail area?”

Snickering at the troll’s delicate phrasing, Snufkin obligingly released him and flopped over backwards. He squirmed about on the bedroll for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the fabric on his over-sensitive skin, then rolled over onto his side. “How’s this?”

“Yes, that should work perfectly.” Soft white paws skimmed appreciatively up the backs of his thighs, leaving shivers in their wake. “Oh, your skin’s so smooth and soft here,” Moomintroll noticed wonderingly. Those paws suddenly cupped his rump, one on each cheek. “And pink. Like a peach.”

“Excuse you, is this payback for the carrot comment?” Snufkin laughed, feeling nearly drunk with amusem*nt and desire and residual bashfulness.

“Maybe,” Moomintroll conceded with a little laugh. “But really, every piece of you is nice to look at.”

Such a wonderful Moomin, showering him with compliments. The mumrik purred happily as one of those warm paws left his bottom with a final teasing pat to wet itself with more lubricant.

“Alright, I’m going to start. Please tell me to stop right away if something doesn’t feel right.”

Snufkin had an idea that such things were, by nature, relatively uncomfortable, at least in the beginning. However, the vagabond had spent the better part of his life bearing periods of discomfort. He had tripped over roots, fallen from trees, trod on rocks and sharp seashells, tumbled down mountainsides, nursed paws wounded by fish spines and wood slivers and campfire burns. He was made of sterner stuff. But, more importantly, Moomintroll could be trusted to be gentle. “Yes,” Snufkin promised, “of course.”

Careful fingertips began to explore. Snufkin twitched and tried not to squirm as the cool liquid was spread against his entrance. As far as his body was concerned, any touch anywhere seemed to be more than welcome at the moment. Oh, but this wasn’t uncomfortable at all. In fact it was quite nice. In fact it was very good, and surely it would be even better if Moomintroll—

The first finger slid cautiously in. Snufkin stiffened with a happy “meep!” of surprise.

“Is this alright?” Moomintroll asked anxiously. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

“Quite alright,” he reassured, shifting his hips encouragingly. “More, please. More quickly, please.”

Though not as quickly as Snufkin would have liked, Moomintroll carried on with an amused huff. For the next several minutes, Snufkin luxuriated in being thoroughly prepared. Breathless giggles and sweet nothings complemented the birdsong filtering in from outside. Loving nuzzles peppered his neck and shoulders. Every so often a splash more lubricant was introduced. His overly excitable tail got in the way rather a lot. Unable to help himself, he gave his straining shaft the occasional stroke.

“Do you think that’s enough?” Moomintroll finally asked. “I don’t want to rush it.”

With slippery fingers stretching him so nicely, the thought of being properly mounted and mated sent a sudden bolt of arousal racing through Snufkin. His wildly waving tail caught Moomintroll across the snout. Moomintroll shook his head with a sputter, fingers curling reflexively. The mumrik arched with a sharp shout, paw wrapped firmly around himself as he shuddered through an unforeseen climax.

“Strike me pink,” Moomintroll whispered almost reverently. Wisely he stilled, allowing Snufkin to ride out his pleasure until he went limp and pliable once more. “Um, should I...?” The fingers began to withdraw.

“No!” If anything could jolt Snufkin from mind-numbing afterglow, it was apparently the threat of losing the very enjoyable ground they had gained. “Keep going. I want... I need... please, more.” In the thick of his seasonal cycle, he hadn’t even gone soft this time. He bit his lip in what he hoped was a suitably alluring manner and turned half-lidded bedroom eyes back at his boyfriend. No matter that he thought his eldest sister incredibly silly when she pulled such obvious stunts; desperate times called for desperate measures. “I’m ready for you to be in me.”

The Moomin swallowed audibly, blue eyes round as saucers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m very sure,” he huffed, squeezing around the fingers inside him for good measure.

“Are you absolutely certain? You don’t need a rest? A drink? Some pancakes? I can get a fire started if you like.”

“Moo—min—troooll,” Snufkin groaned, all pretense of sweet bribery vanishing as claws dug into the bedroll in frustration.

“Oh, okay, I know that tone. It means I’m taking too long and I’m about to be pounced to the ground by one of my paramours.” The fingers inside Snufkin finally withdrew. A paw pet soothingly up and down his heaving side before disappearing to guide something altogether better into place. “Remember, tell me if I need to stop or slow down.” With one last deep breath and admirable restraint, Moomintroll began to press inside. Likely the worry of causing Snufkin discomfort helped keep his ardor in check.

The courtesy was very nearly lost on Snufkin, who squirmed and bucked and made a variety of ecstatic noises which, to creatures not in the know, may have been mistaken for sounds of active torment.

“Oh please, please, please be still,” Moomintroll pleaded, paw just shy of bruising on the vagabond’s hip. “Oh, by the Booble, why are you still so tight? Are you sure this isn’t hurting you?”

“I swear it isn’t,” the mumrik managed to gasp. Every hair on his tail stood up at the sensation as the troll slowly pressed in as deep as he was able, plush hips flush against Snufkin’s rump. The instant Moomintroll seemed able to handle motion without climaxing on the spot, Snufkin began to nudge back against him encouragingly. “You feel so, so good, Moomintroll...” he purred.

“Believe me, so do you.” There was a great huff of fond breath against the back of his neck as Moomintroll seemed to gather his strength and steel his resolve. Then he began to meet Snufkin’s movements thrust for tentative thrust.

Together they found a rhythm. To Snufkin it seemed as natural a rhythm as the ebb and flow of the tides, the endless swirl of the stars, the dance of summer into autumn into winter into spring. The steady ‘plap plap plap’ of hips meeting hips became a music all its own, like soothing raindrops onto parched ground. In his head Snufkin revoked every uncharitable thought he had ever had about mymble or mumrik nature. The experience was singularly divine.

Equally lost in the moment, Moomintroll babbled fervently, greedy paws roaming over every inch of Snufkin that he could readily reach. “Oh, Snufkin, you feel so warm and perfect. Snorkmaiden said you’d take to this like a duck to water; she was so very right—”

“She… what?” Snufkin gulped a shaky breath, jumbled thoughts all in a whirl. Snorkmaiden had said such a thing? Snorkmaiden had imagined him in such an intimate situation, wondered at how he might perform, believed he would actually have some talent at lovemaking? The sudden reminder of her affection and approval squeezed his heart, already full to bursting. What a wonderful creature she was; so caring, so thoughtful, so round and warm and soft and beautiful—

At that moment Moomintroll shifted just so, striking the spot inside Snufkin that his fingers had earlier discovered by accident. Back bent like a bow, Snufkin cried out softly and came without even a paw spared to help himself along, barely able to endure the sensation as the hot length inside him tapped that spot again and again.

Moomintroll groaned pitiably as the mumrik clenched around him. His arms tightened around Snufkin in turn, cradling him through his third climax of the morning. “Oh—umm—are you alright? S-should I stop?”

“Only... stop... when you... come,” Snufkin panted raggedly. “I mean it, Moomintroll!”

Given exceptionally clear marching orders, the troll redoubled his efforts to join his boyfriend in the throes of ecstasy. His thrusts became quicker and sharper as he hugged Snufkin even more tightly. Snufkin found himself absently grateful for the grounding hold as he whimpered and trembled, blissfully overstimulated and loving every moment of it.

In a matter of moments Moomintroll reached his limit in turn. He shuddered hard, gave a final buck, and pressed inside as deep as moominly possible. “Snufkiiiin—!”

Snufkin gasped, reveling in the warbling cry and the loving arms squeezing him tightly. As much as his body craved to feel good, it sated another need to know that he was able to make Moomintroll feel as good in turn.

They were still for several minutes, the only sound their unsteady breathing slowly evening out. Very gently, Moomintroll withdrew and disengaged. A warm, soft snout nosed gently at Snufkin’s damp shoulder as the troll got his wits back about him. A careful paw brushed the sweaty hair back from his face.

Snufkin lay in a shivering sprawl, every inch of flesh and fur tingling pleasantly, content to let Moomintroll fuss over him. At long last, he had gone completely soft. His entire body felt heavy and rather boneless, like a well-wrung dishcloth. Cool air brushed the wetness across his belly and the backs of his thighs. The damp handkerchief that chased it a moment later helped coax his temperature back to reasonable levels.

“There, that’s that all sorted,” Moomintroll fretted, tossing the square of cloth away. “We’ll both need a real wash later, though. How do you feel, Snuf? You don’t hurt anywhere? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Not even a bit,” Snufkin purred. He summoned the last of his energy to open his eyes and peer sleepily up at his boyfriend. “Naps now, yes?”

“You really should drink some water,” Moomintroll began uncertainly. “And eat something.”

“Mmmm... naps first,” Snufkin decided. Closing his eyes, he insinuated all four limbs and his tail for good measure around the troll’s plush warmth.

Moomintroll’s resolve crumbled like sandcastles at high tide. “Oh, you know I can never deny you anything.” He sighed fondly, worming an arm free to snag the blanket and tug it back over the vagabond’s bare form. “But when you wake up, you have to let me look after you properly. It’ll be lunchtime before I get any food into you at this rate. What would Mamma say?”

“Mm-hmm,” came the very unconcerned response, tossed back from the edge of slumber.

The troll chuckled quietly and tucked his tail lovingly around the tuckered out form of his boyfriend. “That’s what I thought. Keep this up and you’ll get to be just as bad as the Joxter.”

Perhaps luckily for him, the soft, peaceful, purr-y snores filling the tent denoted that Snufkin had missed the comment.

Chapter 17: Sisterly advice

Chapter Text

The mymble’s daughter was, as usual, happy to receive a visit from Snorkmaiden. They’d had occasional squabbles in the past (usually over a young man they had both taken a fleeting shine to) but on the whole it was almost like having an older sister; someone to giggle with about ribbons and romance.

“Snorkmaiden!” she exclaimed, swinging the door open wide. “Do come in, I was just about to have some tea and nibbles. Have you finished that novel already?” She grabbed the troll’s book-free paw and tugged her inside. “What did you think of it? Did you like the twist at the end?”

“I never saw it coming!” Snorkmaiden allowed herself to be towed through the cozy cottage to the kitchen table and took the offered seat gracefully. The book, A Hemulen Under the Hem, she placed near the waiting teapot. “I really thought the heroine would wind up with the dashing tailor, but he turned out to be such a scoundrel.”

“Wasn’t he just terrible, making her think he was in love with her while trying to ruin her shop all along?” Mymble Jr. demanded indignantly, in the tone of one who thoroughly immersed herself in the imaginary worlds of novel heroines. “The gallant hat maker was really the much better match. But anyhow,” she carried on, brightening again, “let me get things set out. The water’s almost boiled.”

Snorkmaiden traced the cheery flowers on the tablecloth as her friend bustled around the tiny kitchen, her arms full of cups, saucers, and tea tins. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you think I might borrow another few books when I go? You did say you were expecting a parcel of new ones this spring, yes?”

“Oh yes, they arrived right on schedule. It’s so nice to order things in the fall and know I’ve got something to look forward to being delivered in the spring.” Cabinets and drawers opened and closed. Napkins and spoons were pulled into the mymblic whirlwind. “I hope that you don’t have extra reading time because Moomintroll has been neglecting you, though. Sometimes it can be hard to strike a balance between spending time with both partners, especially at first.”

“Oh, not at all,” Snorkmaiden reassured. Given the circ*mstances, she was actually rather proud of Moomintroll. He had clearly been doing his best to spend an equal amount of time with her while still giving Snufkin all the attention and affection the mumrik seemed to crave thanks to the ticking of his biological clock. “It’s only that he and Snufkin are off on a little excursion at the moment and I have some free time. They should be back in a few days.”

“Ah, I see. Seeing to Snufkin’s seasonal cycle, I suppose?” Mymble Jr. asked blithely.

“Wha—?” Snorkmaiden blinked dumbly, rather astounded by the other young woman’s perception. “How on earth did you know that?”

“She guessed it—I didn’t tell her!” Little My yelled, popping out of the teapot in the center of the table with a sudden clatter. “You make sure Snufkin knows that, Snorkmaiden. I’m not forfeiting our deal just because she found out on her own.”

Paw to her racing heart, Snorkmaiden willed her fur to return to a less startled shade. “Goodness! Little My, I really do wish you wouldn’t jump out like that. One of these days you’re going to give someone palpitations.”

“My money is on Mr. Hemulen,” Mymble Jr. said conversationally, setting out a tray of sweets. “He’s certainly not as young as he used to be. Or perhaps Mrs. Fillyjonk. She’s always so nervous under the best of circ*mstances. Macaroon?”

“Oh, yes please.” Snorkmaiden accepted the treat. Little My extracted herself fully from the tea pot and took two, one for each tiny hand. “But really, Mymble, how did you guess what the boys were up to?”

The taller sister examined the vacated teapot critically. “It wasn’t a hard conclusion to leap to. Joxterpappa’s been around for so long that My and I eventually did cotton on to the fact that mumriks have seasonal cycles.” She blew a speck out of the inside of the pot. “It only made sense that Snufkin might, too, since he’s suddenly grown into so many other mumrik traits.”

“He didn’t seem very thrilled about it,” Little My commented between crunches.

“Poor thing. I hope he enjoys himself anyway.” Satisfied with the teapot, Mymble Jr. replaced the strainer and began to fill it with tea. “But I’m honestly a bit jealous, in a way,” she pouted. “To feel sensations more strongly, to be able to release one’s inhibitions and simply follow as instinct leads you; it all sounds so terribly wild and romantic.”

Snorkmaiden giggled, only a trifle embarrassed as a creature who had firsthand experience. “Well, I can’t argue that. It’s really quite nice once you cope with the idea and have someone you’re comfortable with to lend a paw. But having it spring up with no warning is no fun at all.”

“It sounds horrific,” Little My said blandly, wiping crumbs from her dress.

“Just because you don’t care for romance,” Mymble Jr. allowed primly. “But Snorkmaiden, if you don’t mind me asking—didn’t you know that it would happen for you eventually? Since Snork is the elder sibling, didn’t he get his cycle first and clue you in?”

“He did get his cycle first,” Snorkmaiden confirmed irritably. “And he didn’t think a thing of it. Simply ‘an odd surge of insistent basal reproductive instincts,’ he thought. Didn’t think about finding a partner, didn’t think to tell me it might be a species quirk. Apparently he just spent a few days… um…” she settled on an inelegant jerking motion, “with one paw and drawing blueprints with the other.”

“Did he invent any fun toys?” Mymble Jr. asked eagerly, fetching the steaming kettle.

“I’m afraid not. But at any rate, when my cycle eventually came ‘round it finally clicked for him. I’ll never forget him standing there in the hall saying ‘ooh, well, I suppose that does add up. May I suggest doing some calculus to take your mind off of it?’ I was so furious I threw a bottle of my best perfume at him. Completely ruined the wallpaper next to his head, I’m afraid.”

Little My laughed gleefully at the memory as her sister carefully filled the teapot. “When he showed up at Moominhouse it was the funniest thing I’d ever seen! Reeking of roses, asking Moomintroll to ‘please have intercourse with my sister before she does someone an injury.’ I thought the poor marshmallow’s eyes were going to pop out of his head.”

Snorkmaiden dropped her face into her paws despairingly. “You would think at least a small bit of Moominpappa’s manners would have made it through to Snork, but clearly he didn’t soak up even a fraction.”

Mymble Jr. nodded sympathetically. “It’s really a shame. He’s normally so good with fractions.”

Thankfully, the mymble sisters had no trouble commiserating on the trials of vexing siblings. By the time the last sweet was eaten and the last drop sipped, Snorkmaiden felt entirely validated and more than happy to indulge in idle chatter. She had very nearly forgotten the true motivation behind her visit until Little My, bored with talk of herb gardens and flower beds, took it upon herself to investigate the novel Snorkmaiden had brought back. She took one look and made a face that would have spoiled new milk.

Mymble Jr. sighed, breaking off the conversation about petunias to pluck the book from her little sister’s paws. “Yes, I’m completely aware of your opinion on my taste in literature. There’s no need to be so obvious about it.”

“I just don’t see what could be that interesting in reading about a bunch of harebrained mymbles doing what mymbles stereotypically do, that’s all,” Little My huffed. “Give me a good ghost story or a pirate tale any day.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Little My. Building a story up properly to or around the saucy bits is a true art form. There are limitless plot twists that have yet to be explored. And we mymbles are far from the only creatures to star in romantic literature, you know. Why, I’m sure I have at least three novellas in my collection featuring any species you could think of.” She stood, beckoning the others to follow. “Come on, Snorkmaiden, I’ll get you those new ones I promised.”

The sitting room held several bookcases laden with a respectable amount of less-than-respectable literature. Snorkmaiden knew from experience that one section in particular would never be allowed on the shelves of the Moominvalley public library (and that was exactly why Mymble Jr. had taken it upon herself to collect them).

Little My peered incredulously up at the shelf, head tilted like a redheaded owl to read the book spines. “Oh, good gravy. These titles are real nightmares. ‘Help! I’ve Fallen for a Hemulen.’ The poor fool needs help, alright. ‘Down and Tidy: a Fillyjonk Fantasy Fulfilled.’ That is absolutely terrifying. ‘The Frolicsome Fuzzies Next Door.’ ‘Palettes of Passion: Seduced by a Sultry Snork.’ ‘The Manor’s Merry Mymble Maid.’ Did someone get paid real money to scratch out this rubbish?” she demanded.

“Oh, yes.” Her sister nodded seriously. “Such stories are in high demand.”

Looking more and more disturbed, Little My nimbly scaled the case and pulled another book off the shelf. “What the—? ‘Punished by My Moomin Mistress.’ Does Moominmamma know you two read this stuff? Because I can’t imagine she’d let you dirty birds inside Moominhouse if she did.”

“Well, of course she knows, Little My,” Snorkmaiden said matter-of-factly. “Moominpappa wrote that one, after all.”

The smaller girl’s jaw dropped as the rest of her dropped to the floor, landing lightly on her feet. Her wide eyes shot back to the book cover, then narrowed. “Not unless his pen name is Gertrude Ertwhistle, you lying liar!”

The jig clearly up, Snorkmaiden and the elder mymble began to cackle.

“You’re both horrible.” Fuming, Little My chucked the offending text over her shoulder and marched out of the room, clearly done with the topic entirely.

“Oh!” Mymble Jr. caught it in her apron with deep concern. “Please, do be careful with this one. It’s just been released and it’s already on backorder from the publishing house.” The book was carefully re-shelved as the banging of the front door denoted Little My’s sour exit. “Now, let’s see. Which of the new additions would I recommend the most…?”

Snorkmaiden fidgeted as her friend paced up and down with a thoughtful finger to her lips, scanning the bookcases critically. “I don’t suppose you might have one starring a mumrik?” she asked as casually as she could manage.

“Oh yes, considerably more than one. Mumriks are very popular as mysterious, passionate love interest characters.” The red-haired girl looked over at her curiously. “But I’m sure you once specifically asked me not to recommend any stories with mumriks as the love interest?”

She tried and failed not to blush guiltily. “Well, yes. Once upon a time I did.” Once upon a time, not so very long ago, when she had still been rather jealous of Moomintroll’s bond with Snufkin. When she had started to suspect that her boyfriend’s adoration and hero-worship of his best friend had begun to drift into less-than-platonic waters, it had been a sore subject. Even back then, still looking like a simple mymble, the vagabond had fit the typical mumrik stereotypes (attractive, aloof, rebellious, free as thistledown on the breeze) more than well enough. The romance novels she lost herself in were the last place she had wanted to be reminded of Snufkin. “Circ*mstances have changed somewhat.”

Mymble Jr. smiled at the admission. “I see. In that case, I can give you some of my favorites.” She began to fish volumes from the shelves. “You know, Snorkmaiden, when we spoke last fall I tried my best not to talk you into something you weren’t comfortable with, but I’m so very glad you decided to let the boys have a go at being together. Snufkin’s happier this spring than I’ve seen him in years. You seem much happier too, as a matter of fact.”

Creamy snork fur fluffed pleasantly. “You’re not wrong. It’s been a relief, really, to not be constantly preoccupied worrying over whether or not Moomintroll was really happy with me and whether or not he’d prefer Snufkin instead.” She hadn’t fully realized how much it had been weighing on her until that weight had been lifted. “Not to mention how nice it’s been getting to know Snufkin as a real friend again.”

“He is a good sort, that little brother of mine. A bit odd sometimes, but a good sort.”

“A very good sort,” Snorkmaiden agreed with a somewhat longing sigh.

Mymbles, it had been suggested, could smell romance brewing a mile away. The taller girl turned from the bookcase slowly, a sizable stack of novels in her arms. Suddenly intense blue eyes focused on her guest. “Snorkmaiden, I certainly don’t mean to pry, but that sounded very much like the sigh of a young lady greatly admiring a gentleman.”

With a start, Snorkmaiden stood straighter. “Did it? Why, I suppose it must have. Snufkin is a dear friend, after all, so naturally I would admire him.”

“You’re turning peach!” Mymble Jr. dismissed the explanation with mounting excitement. “Oh my goodness, you’ve fallen in love with him as well, haven’t you?”

Thoroughly called out, Snorkmaiden covered her eyes despairingly. As much as she treasured her lovely rainbow-hued pelt, it did her no favors in the company of creatures who knew her well enough to decipher her every emotion through its kaleidoscope. “It seems such a thing might not be outside the realm of possibility...”

“Eee, no wonder you’re suddenly keen to read romances with mumriks!” Hastily depositing the stack of books on a nearby end table, Mymble Jr. rushed to clasp her friend’s paws. A delighted smile dimpled her rosy cheeks. “Snorkmaiden, I never would have suspected. This is wonderful!”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it makes you so happy,” Snorkmaiden began.

“Of course it does!” The mymble, high on the heady vapors of second-hand twitterpation, bounced giddily on the tips of her toes. “The three of you will be so happy together. Have you confessed your feelings to him?”

Snorkmaiden had little choice but to bounce along with her friend’s enthusiasm. “Well no, not yet—”

“Don’t worry, my dear, of course he’ll return your affections,” her friend assured. She gasped suddenly, eyes widening like pools at high tide. “Oh my goodness—when the three of you marry, we’ll be sisters-in-law!”

Snorkmaiden’s ears went back in alarm as she was twirled about in circles on the rug, a dance to rival the most vigorous cavorting around a maypole. “Now wait just a minute, Mymble, don’t you think that’s getting a bit ahead of—”

“We’ll have to think of a grand way for you to let him know how you feel. But not too grand; you know Snufkin, after all. Perhaps a moonlit boat ride down the river?”

“Mymble, please, I’m getting dizzy!”

The spinning came to an abrupt halt. Paws finally freed, Snorkmaiden clutched her snout and willed the room to stop rotating without her. Beside her, quite unaffected, the other girl blinked rapidly as if coming to a sudden realization. “Oh. But what if Snufkin is only attracted to men? He did fall in love with Moomintroll first out of all the creatures in Moominvalley, after all.”

The young snork could actually feel the rush of blue-grey spread through her fur at the very real possibility she had completely failed to consider hitherto. “Thanks, Mymble, that wasn’t something I had been afraid of until just this very moment.”

“Ah, well. No matter.” As easily as slipping out of a shawl, the worry was shrugged away and Mymble Jr. beamed happily once more. “True love conquers all! I’m sure it will all work out somehow. Oh, I wonder if your future babies will take after you or him?”

“Goodness me, would you look at the time?!” Snorkmaiden glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece with faux surprise and genuine desperation. Surely there was no quicker way to send a mostly unattached creature like Snufkin running for the hills than to bring up having children, of all things. Even Moomintroll was just beginning to come around to that particular discussion without stuttering. “I really must be getting home and making sure that all of the Snork’s bubbles have gone. Thank you ever so much for the tea and the books.”

“Any time, dear, absolutely any time. We must do it again soon. In the meantime, would you like me to brainstorm more scenarios for your big confession to Snufkin?” she asked eagerly.

Adjusting her fringe, Snorkmaiden struggled to regain her customary ladylike dignity. “I believe I’ve got everything under control, thanks. But what I will ask is that you please do your very best not to spread this information about. I haven’t even had the chance to talk to Moomintroll about all this, and the moominparents and Uncle Jox think we’re already a proper trio. It’s all a bit muddled up.”

“How romantic.” With a happy sigh, Mymble Jr. collected the books from the end table and pressed them into her friend’s paws. “Now, I’ve given you a couple of the new ones and some of my mumrik-ish favorites you haven’t read yet. Hopefully they’ll be enough to keep you occupied while Moomintroll is off tending my brother.” She winked knowingly. “I think you’ll enjoy the one on top particularly.”

Snorkmaiden glanced down at the book in question. It was titled ‘Midsummer Melodies: a Titillating Tale of Mumrik Mischief.’ Nonplussed, she turned it over to read the jacket. ‘A sheltered young lady discovers a world of ardor and adventure in the arms of a wandering mumrik minstrel. Follow a tale of passionate romance hotter than a midsummer bonfire’s blaze.’ Oh my.

Early afternoon had become warm and sunny. Snorkmaiden took her leave, waving goodbye to her friend with the arm not loaded with reading material. As she left the tidy brick path to Mymble Jr.’s cottage at the juncture of the main road, Little My came trotting around the side of the house. In her paws she carried a large toad.

“My goodness, that’s a big one,” Snorkmaiden noted as the tiny mymble fell in step next to her. “Where did you find it?”

Little My held the disgruntled amphibian proudly. Against her very petite form, proportionally it was the size of a rather lumpy seat cushion. “Under the sitting room window, while I was eavesdropping on you two.”

Snorkmaiden sighed deeply over her stack of books. She couldn’t even feign surprise. “I might have known. What’s your price to not go and tell Snufkin straight away, then?”

As if they were merely discussing the weather, the smaller girl didn’t bat an eye. “Do you remember those nice carrot and leek pasties you made for the harvest party last autumn?”

“I do. How many?”

“A dozen ought to cover it. Unless of course you take too long to confess to him, and I run out of pasties before you get around to it.”

“Look, I have to wait until an opportune moment presents itself,” Snorkmaiden protested. “One can’t rush these things.” They still had quite a few carrots left in the cellar, but she resigned herself to several trips to the market for a proper quantity of leeks. After all, a mymble with a full mouth couldn’t open it to blabber secrets.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my romance-addled chum.” Little My’s smile was self-satisfied, but not unkind. They walked in silence (broken only by the occasional grumpy croak) for several long moments. “For the record, though, I don’t think Moomintroll being male had anything to do with it.”

“Anything to do with what?” Snorkmaiden asked, forgetting about vegetables for the time being.

“With Snufkin falling in love with him. They’re just two disgustingly sweet peas in a pod, that’s all. It would’ve happened eventually no matter if Moomintroll was a boy or a girl or neither.” She gave the snork a sideways glance. “My brother doesn’t get attached to too many creatures, but besides Moomintroll he’s definitely the most attached to you. I can’t tell you whether or not he’s the type to have more than one sweetheart, but if he is, I’d say you’ve got more of a chance at winning him over than anyone else has.”

More than a bit shocked but nevertheless deeply touched, Snorkmaiden turned a happy shade of yellow. “Thank you, Little My. I appreciate that terribly.”

Her small friend squirmed squeamishly, clearly far outside of her comfort zone. “Alright, enough of that. Romance. Blech!”

Snorkmaiden charitably changed the subject. “What are you going to do with that toad, then?”

“I’m taking it to Moominmamma’s garden. She was saying the other day how the beetles are already eating up her vegetable sprouts. This big fellow will put a stop to that quick enough.”

“Why, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Snorkmaiden couldn’t help but beam happily. “You know, you’re really quite sweet when you’re not bending the very essence of your being to causing mayhem and chaos.”

Pulling a horrid face, Little My sped up. “You take that back.”

“I shan’t,” Snorkmaiden teased, quickening her pace as well. “You’re just as sweet as a blackberry crumble!”

“I don’t have to take this slander from you,” Little My shouted. Hefting the startled toad over her head, she broke away and took off down the road at a run. “See you later, you lovelorn looney, and don’t you dare forget about my pasties!”

Snorkmaiden laughed until long after the other girl had disappeared from sight.

- // - // - // - // -

Left to her own devices once more, Snorkmaiden meandered homeward. Her favorite meadow was speckled with violets where daisies would later bloom in the halcyon days of summer, perfect for flower crowns. It beckoned her to rest awhile under its newly-leafed shade tree. As it wasn’t quite lunchtime, she gave in to the temptation.

The thick grass beneath the tree was fresh and cool. She sank into it with a sigh, setting aside her literary burden. The next time she visited Mymble Jr. with the intent of book borrowing she ought to remember a backpack. Idly, she picked up the copy of Midsummer Melodies and regarded it thoughtfully.

I wonder what makes this one of Mymble’s favorites? She opened the book to the first page, then paused. I really shouldn’t. If I get sucked in I’ll be here all afternoon… but just the first chapter couldn’t hurt, could it? Bolstered by such reasoning, she began to read.

The plot was immediately ensnaring. The story’s heroine, Hyacinth, was a shyly sweet young lady enduring an arranged engagement to a well-bred but ill-tempered young gentleman. Jonquil, the charming mumrik minstrel with eyes like emeralds and hair like sunlit cornsilk, captivated her instantly when they met by chance in the market square where he played his fiddle, stirring her heart as none had done before.

By the time Snorkmaiden looked up from the book with a guilty start, Hyacinth’s fiancé had angrily demanded that she end her budding friendship with Jonquil, leaving the poor girl at a crossroads of emotional turmoil. The sun had traveled a considerable distance across the sky. It was long past lunchtime. Snorkmaiden marked her place with a nearby leaf and stood with a regretful sigh. Sorry, dear Hyacinth, but I’m afraid we’ll have to continue later. Snork is probably starving by now—even if he doesn’t think to realize that he’s starving. I’d better get home and get some food into him.

As it turned out, missing lunch was not at the forefront of the Snork’s worries. As Snorkmaiden neared their home, she spied him sitting on the front steps. He had yet to remove the hat and slicker. On the lawn nearby were a broom and an upturned laundry basket. Snorkmaiden also could not help but notice that the front door and all visible windows stood wide open. The occasional bubble floated out.

“Hullo Snork,” she called. “Sorry I’m late. I’m glad you managed to remember to have lunch without me.”

He looked up from a half-nibbled sandwich with a glum frown. “Oh, Snorkmaiden, you’re back. Good. I have an idea to scoop the rest of the bubbles out with a net, but the bed sheets are too big for me to handle alone.”

Snorkmaiden paused, watching a dusty-looking bubble half float, half bounce down the steps past her. “You mean they didn’t work?”

“They do work,” the Snork corrected indignantly. “They’ve cleaned up your kitchen—and the rest of the downstairs—splendidly.” Then he slumped a bit, and his sister could clearly imagine his ears drooping beneath the rain hat. “This batch just seems a bit reluctant to pop, that’s all. They will pop if you poke them firmly with a fork, but there are so many of them that I decided it would be more practical to set them free to the elements. But then they were too slippery to stay in the laundry basket, and kept on bouncing every which way off of the broom when I tried to sweep them out. So I decided to make a sandwich and wait for you to come home.”

She sighed. “Well, as long as the kitchen is clean, I won’t complain. But I think you’re right; we should get them out of the house.” Shifting the books beneath one arm, she patted him consolingly on the shoulder. “Look on the bright side, Snork. The main thing is that your cleaning solution does what it’s meant to do. You can work out a formula for less hardy bubbles later.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He brightened considerably. “I’ll need to keep at least one bubble for observation. Do you still have that glass stand with the dome lid?”

“You mean my cake pedestal,” she clarified after a moment of confusion.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He stood resolutely. The sandwich lay forgotten on the step.

Snorkmaiden sighed a deeper sigh. “Finish your lunch first, please. I’m going to put these new books up out of danger, make my own lunch, and then we’ll get to it.” She lifted the books over her head and prepared to brave the bubble sea for the second time that day. One foot over the threshold, she paused. “How did you ever manage to make that sandwich with the kitchen full of bubbles, anyway?”

“The dive mask and snorkel should still be on the worktop,” he said around a bite of tomato and cheese. “Somewhere.”