Chapter Text
Snufkin has been traveling his entire life, yet he seems to always navigate back to The Valley. The Valley is a wealthy kingdom, supported by its generous rulers, The Moomins; Moominmama is mighty and strong, yet kind, hospitable, and an exceptional cook. Moominpappa is a fanciable warrior, intelligent, but is usually out in the town bumbling around searching for someone to listen to his stories and watch his latest play. Last -but not least- is Moomin, their only child, the 16 year old heir is loyal to a fault, kind to anyone who is in his vicinity, and has the biggest heart out of anyone in the family; though he may be naive, somewhat of a chicken, and may take advantage of his noble upbringing, Moomin is -and always will be- exceptionally golden hearted. Adamantly stating that no matter who someone is or where they come from, they are welcome in the valley. Snufkin admires the free and loving way The Mommins rule, they may smother their people in care but Snufkin has never felt trapped there, it’s the freest kingdom he’s been to.
Snufkin’s boots sink into the mud, the ground becoming harder to traverse with early spring melting snow all around. He sighs, grabbing onto a branch above him, pulling himself up from the spongy ground and hopping up on the sturdy branch. If he wants to get anywhere before sundown Snufkin would have to traverse by tree, the mud was simply too thick. He stands up balancing on the branch and begins carefully moving throughout the trees, mindful of the weaker branches. The trees are thicker in this area of the wood, the canopy opening rarely to let in sun, Snufkin was used to darker places, but he still has to be cautious. The view was beautiful though, the little light streaking through the top of the canopy, projecting down, made the spring grass shine. The little beginnings of flowers growing towards the light, their colorful petals peaking through the green buds. Seeing the foliage, he jumps down to admire it. Snufkin knew he was close to The Valley, the kingdom is known, not just for its kind rulers, but also for its beautiful plant life. Moominmama is quite proud of her green thumb, she is always able to make any plant grow within a week of it being planted. Some of the townspeople speculate that she was blessed by a Spring Faerie, Snufkin wouldn’t be surprised if she had been, all the Spring Faeries he’s met would definitely bless the kind, loving Moomin.
“Comin’ through!"
Snufkin jumps out of the way of the fast carriage, barely losing his hat, but catching it in time. He may love The Valley but it was very crowded. Eugh people, Snufkin’s Achilles Heel. Nothing is worse to him than an overcrowded market on a Saturday afternoon, especially in the heat. The boy huffs, pulling his hat down back over his shaggy brown hair, he then proceeds to make a vulgar gesture at the speeding death box he was almost squashed by, and continues walking down the well engraved path. Snufkin trudges forward in a considerably more sour mood than he had been in at the start of his journey. The trees, though, decide that he will not stay in that state and open up, oaks, maples and pines alike greet him at the entrance to The Valley. They seem to welcome him every time he enters this haven. The boy sighs and smiles, the familiar sights and smells entering his system. He’s here.
The boy in the green hat maneuvers his way through the crowds of people filling the castle walls, successfully getting to the fateful bridge. It's probably an amazing fishing spot, Snufkin thinks, but so many people come to and from The Valley every second of every day and sadly it would be quite hazardous to fish there.
Snufkin's ears perk up as he hears the booming voice of Moominpapa. It's in the direction of own square, he’s probably doing a reading of his memoirs or other, but then a smaller, more timid voice joins him. The boy realizes this voice must be Moomin, and he unconsciously walks faster to the center of the kingdom, Snufkin barely registers that he’s straying from the path he ought to be on to see this… well, moomin. The brown-eyed boy just follows the young but confident voice of the youngest moomin. Maybe if he gets closer he’ll… He’ll what? Snufkin doesn’t know, he just has to-
“Oof!” The boy shouts as something red comes barreling into him, he unceremoniously falls to the ground around the hoards of pedestrians filling the kingdom. “What the- My?”
A small girl with flaming red hair and a devilish smile grins over him, “Ma said you weren’t coming for another day! We haven’t even gotten your room ready!” She then proceeds to try to bite his hand seemingly out of boredom and Snufkin has to do some maneuvering to get out from under the red gremlin and carry her by her pink bow like a cat.
“Stars, My, you can’t just bite people.” The green clad boy huffs, forgetting about wherever he was going before, and starts to his mothers house with My in tow.
Little My squirms, “Well you can’t just grab people!” She escapes his grip and climbs onto his backpack, sitting with her back to the back of his head. “Anyhow, how’s my little brother doing? Any exciting murders on your journey?” She sounds absolutely pleased at this idea and Snufkin briefly wonders if he should tell her ‘yes’ just to get her off his back… heh… literally.
“No, just a normal journey, though I did upset a king in someplace and was tried for my crimes for 3 days.” He shrugs, jostling My, she yelps. Snufkin smiles at the noise, chuckling a bit.
My growls and pulls his hair, “Ya should’ve stayed there, prick.” Snufkin lets out a yelp of his own and scrambles to pull My off of his shoulders, she just climbs onto his hat to evade her little brother’s searching grasp. She pulls on his orange feather, meticulously placed on his hat, taking it out and jumping over his head and taking off with it. Snufkin sputters and chases after his elder sister, weaving through crowds and markets. At some point they find themselves on the complete opposite end of the kingdom, near where Snufkin and My’s mother lives. Little My immediately races towards the house, feather in tow, running faster than you would think someone that small would be able to. She then rams herself onto the front door of the house, Snufkin runs to her, intending to catch the small demon, but she moves at the last second, the door opens while Snufkin is running and he falls into his childhood home. Someone catches him then, their familiar arms secure around him. Snufkin knows this is his mother, he squirms in her grip and she lets go.
“Snufkin,!” She says cupping his face with her hands, having to bend over slightly to do so, “Oh my dear! Your letter said you’d be home tomorrow!” Her blinding smile makes it hard for Snufkin to frown up at her, and he gives her a small smile.
“I had a run in with a particularly cruel zookeeper and thought it was wise to leave a day earlier.” He ducks out of his mother’s hold, but is greeted by more, tinier, hands.
“Snufkin!”
“You’re back!”
“Did you fight a dragon?!”
“Snufkin, did you meet a fairie?!”
“Snufkin, did you see the Hobgoblin?!”
Overlapping voices and tiny grabbing hands fill Snufkin's space, until he is sufficiently covered in little red haired Mymbles.
Snufkin tries to smile down at them, feeling overwhelmed by all the attention, “how about I tell you of my adventures tomorrow, little ones, I’ve had a long day.”
“But Snufkin!” whined one, to the left of him.
“I wanna hear about them now!” blubbered one on his head.
“Can’t you just tell us tonight?” complained another, pulling on his trouser leg.
The tiny children start complaining to Snufkin, their whiny voices grating on his ears. His mouth twitches and he opens his mouth to tell them ‘really, I can’t, I’ll only tell you tomorrow okay?’ or maybe to scream but he’s cut off by a tall figure picking up the child on his head.
“Now, Mei, let’s give our brother some space, you all know he isn’t comfortable with all this confrontation.” His older sister plucks another child from him, this one was hanging on his scarf, Snufkin takes a deep breath now his throat is free. The children, one by one, let go of his various limbs and clothing and file to Mymble. Snufkin smiles over to her and takes another deep breath. Mymble smiles as well and points her head in the direction of the backyard, seemingly where he will sleep for tonight, Snufkin nods and takes off to the back door.
The boy slumps down on the soft grass outside and shivers, it isn’t usually this cold when he gets back from his travels, this year seems colder somehow. The fire by his belongings helps, the oranges and yellows twisting and turning around each other, Snufkin has always thought fire looks like some sort of intricate dance; something so complicated, yet so simple. He taps his harmonica on the palm of his hand, the boy hasn’t found his Spring Tune yet, he always has it by this time of year, but something seems different. Snufkin sits up, trying to keep his racing thoughts from his mind, literally shaking his head to, maybe, scramble them. He has always been a smart boy, too many thoughts and questions tumbling into his head, too fast for anyone else to answer. It was alright though, he would figure them out by himself, resigning to read and, well, explore. His mother told him he was very much like his father. His father. Snufkin doesn't really care for the man, he understands his wanderlust, his need for adventure, his want for answers, and his overwhelming curiosity for anything and everything. Though he understands, he doesn’t agree with his decision of not staying, of not at least telling his son, ‘hey I may not be around but I care for you’. He comes back every spring, why can’t he?
Snufkin rubs his eyes, it’s getting late, the fire is dying down, and the mosquitoes are coming out to play. He resigns to his tent. Tomorrow will be better.