Finn Family Moomintroll

by Tove Jansson

  ‘We must arm ourselves and move the furniture in front of the door,’ declared Moominpappa. ‘A large Groke like that may be dangerous. I shall set an alarm clock in the drawing-room, and Thingumy and Bob can sleep under my bed.’

  But Thingumy and Bob had already crept into a bureau drawer and refused to come out.

  Moominpappa shook his head and went to the woodshed for his blunderbuss.

  The evenings were already beginning to draw in; the glow-worms were out with their little torches, and the garden was filled with black, velvet shadows. The wind soughed drearily through the trees, and Moominpappa felt an uncanny feeling creeping over him as he went down the path. Suppose this Groke were hiding behind a bush! What did she look like, and above all, how big was she? When he came in again he put the sofa in front of the door and said: ‘We must leave the light on all night. You must all be on the alert and Snufkin must sleep indoors.’ It was terribly exciting.

  Then he knocked on the bureau drawer and said: ‘We shall protect you!’ But there was no answer, so he pulled the drawer out to see if Thingumy and Bob had already been kidnapped. However, they slept peacefully, and beside them lay their suitcase.

  ‘Anyway let’s go to bed,’ said Moominpappa. ‘But arm yourselves all of you.’

  With much noise and chatter they went off to their rooms and presently silence reigned in Moominhouse, while the solitary kerosene lamp burned on the drawing-room table.

  It was midnight. Then one o’clock struck. A little after two the Muskrat woke up and wanted to get out of bed. He staggered sleepily downstairs and stopped in amazement in front of the sofa which stood across the door. ‘What an idea!’ he muttered, trying to drag it away, and then of course the alarm clock that Moominpappa had put there started ringing.

  In a moment the house was filled with screams, shots and the stamping of feet, as everybody came rushing down to the drawing-room armed with axes, spades, rakes, stones, knives, and scissors, and stood staring at the Muskrat.

  ‘Where’s the Groke?’ demanded Moomintroll.

  ‘Oh, it was only me,’ said the Muskrat peevishly. ‘I just wanted to look at the stars. I forgot all about your stupid Groke.’

  ‘Then go outside at once,’ said Moomintroll. ‘But don’t do it again.’ And he threw the door open.

  Then – they saw the Groke. Everybody saw her. She sat motionless on the sandy path at the bottom of the steps and stared at them with round, expressionless eyes.

  She was not particularly big and didn’t look dangerous either, but you felt that she was terribly evil and would wait for ever. And that was awful.

  Nobody plucked up enough courage to attack.

  She sat there for a while, and then slid away into the darkness. But where she had been sitting the ground was frozen!

  The Snork shut the door and shook himself. ‘Poor Thingumy and Bob!’ he said. ‘Hemul, look and see if they’re awake.’

  They were.

  ‘Has she gone?’ asked Thingumy.

  ‘Yes, you can peep in sleace now,’ replied the Hemulen.

  Thingumy sighed a little and said: ‘Thank goodness!’ And they pulled the suitcase with them as far into the drawer as possible and went to sleep again.

  ‘Can we go back to bed now?’ asked Moominmamma, putting down her axe.

  ‘Yes, mother,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Snufkin and I will stand guard till the sun gets up. But put your handbag under your pillow to be on the safe side.’

  Then they sat alone in the drawing-room and played poker till the morning. And no more was heard of the Groke that night.

  *

  Next morning the Hemulen went anxiously out to the kitchen and said: ‘I’ve been talking to Thingumy and Bob.’

  ‘Well, what is it now?’ asked Moominmamma with a sigh.

  ‘It’s their suitcase the Groke wants,’ explained the Hemulen.

  ‘What a monster!’ burst out Moominmamma. ‘To steal their small possessions from them!’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said the Hemulen, ‘but there is something that makes the whole thing complicated. It seems to be the Groke’s suitcase.’

  ‘Hm,’ agreed Moominmamma. ‘That certainly makes the situation more difficult. We’ll talk to the Snork. He always arranges everything so well.’

  The Snork was very interested. ‘It’s a remarkable case,’ he said. ‘We must hold a meeting. Everybody will come to the lilac bushes at three o’clock to discuss the question.’

  It was one of those lovely warm afternoons full of the scent of flowers and the humming of bees, and the garden was brilliant with the deep colours of late summer.

  The Muskrat’s hammock was hung between two bushes and on it was a notice which said:

  PROSECUTOR for the GROKE

  The Snork himself, in a wig, was sitting in front of a box: everybody could see that he was the judge. Opposite him sat Thingumy and Bob eating cherries in the prisoners’ dock.

  ‘I wish to be their Prosecutor,’ said Sniff (who hadn’t forgotten that they had called him a silly old mouse).

  ‘In that case I’ll be their Counsel for the Defence,’ said the Hemulen.

  ‘What about me?’ asked the Snork Maiden.

  ‘You can be the Moomin Family’s witness,’ said her brother. ‘And Snufkin can make notes concerning the proceedings of the Court. But you’re to do it properly, Snufkin!’

  ‘Why doesn’t the Groke have a Counsel for the Defence?’ asked Sniff.

  ‘That isn’t necessary’ replied the Snork, ‘because the Groke is in the right. Everything clear now? All right. We’ll begin.’

  He banged three times on the box with a hammer.

  ‘Man you cake it out?’ asked Thingumy.

  ‘Mot nutch,’ said Bob, blowing a cherry stone at the judge.

  ‘You are not to speak until I say so,’ said the

  Snork. ‘Yes or No. Nothing more. Is the said suitcase yours or the Groke’s?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Thingumy.

  ‘No,’ said Bob.

  ‘Write down that they contradicted each other,’ screamed Sniff.

  The Snork banged on the box. ‘Quiet!’ he cried. ‘Now I’m asking for the last time. Whose suitcase is it?’

  ‘Ours!’ said Thingumy

  ‘Now they say it’s theirs,’ moaned the Hemulen, in despair, ‘and this morning they said the opposite.’

  ‘Well, then we don’t have to give it to the Groke,’ said the Snork with a sigh of relief. ‘But it’s a pity after all my arrangements.’

  Thingumy leant forward and whispered something to the Hemulen. ‘They say’ he declared, ‘that it’s only the Contents of the suitcase that belong to the Groke.’

  ‘Ha!’ said Sniff. ‘I can well believe that. Now everything is perfectly clear. The Groke gets her Contents back and the herring-faces keep their old suitcase.’

  ‘It’s not clear at all!’ cried the Hemulen boldly. ‘The question is not who is the owner of the Contents, but who has the greatest right to the Contents. The right thing in the right place. You saw the Groke, everybody? Now, I ask you, did she look as if she had a right to the Contents?’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ said Sniff in surprise. ‘Clever of you, Hemul. But, on the other hand, think how lonely the Groke is because nobody likes her, and she hates everybody. The Contents is perhaps the only thing she has. Would you now take that away from her too – lonely and rejected in the night?’ Sniff became more and more affected and his voice trembled. ‘Cheated out of her only possession by Thingumy and Bob.’ He blew his nose and couldn’t go on.

  The Snork banged the box. ‘The Groke doesn’t need any defence,’ he said. ‘Besides your point of view is emotional, and so is the Hemulen’s. Witness forward! Speak up!’

  ‘We like Thingumy and Bob very much,’ said the Moomin Family’s witness. ‘We disapproved of the Groke from the beginning. It’s a pity if she must have her Contents back.’

  ‘Right is right,’ said the Snork, solemnly. ‘You must be f
air. Particularly as Thingumy and Bob can’t see the difference between right and wrong. They were born like that and can’t help it. Prosecutor, what have you to say?’

  But the Muskrat had gone to sleep in his hammock.

  ‘Well, well,’ said the Snork. ‘I’m sure he wasn’t interested anyway. Have we said all we should say before I pronounce the verdict?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said the Moomin Family’s witness, ‘but wouldn’t it be easier if we knew what the Contents actually are?’

  Thingumy whispered something again. The Hemulen nodded. ‘It’s a secret,’ he said. ‘Thingumy and Bob think the Contents is the most beautiful thing in the world, but the Groke just thinks it’s the most expensive.’

  The Snork nodded many times and wrinkled his forehead. ‘This is a difficult case,’ he said. ‘Thingumy and Bob have reasoned correctly, but they have acted wrongly. Right is right. I must think. Quiet now!’

  It was quite quiet amongst the lilac bushes except for the humming of the bees, while the garden baked in the sunshine.

  Suddenly a cold draught swept over the grass. The sun went behind a cloud and the garden looked dull.

  ‘What was that?’ said Snufkin and lifted his pen from the notes.

  ‘She’s here again,’ whispered the Snork Maiden. In the frozen grass sat the Groke glaring at them. She fixed her gaze on Thingumy and Bob, began growling and shambled slowly nearer.

  ‘Hopster! Hopster! Help! Help! Stopster!’ they screamed, getting quite incoherent in their terror.

  ‘Stop, Groke!’ said the Snork. ‘I have something to say to you!’

  The Groke stopped.

  ‘I have thought enough,’ went on the Snork. ‘Will you agree to Thingumy and Bob buying the Contents of the suitcase? And if so what is your price?’

  ‘High,’ said the Groke in an icy voice.

  ‘Would my gold mountain on the Hattifatteners’ Island be enough?’ asked the Snork.

  ‘No,’ answered the Groke as icily as before. But just then Moominmamma noticed how cold it got, and she decided to fetch her shawl. So she ran through the garden, where the frost marked the Groke’s tracks, and up on to the veranda. And there she had an idea. Picking up the Hobgoblin’s Hat she went back to the Court proceedings, put the hat on the grass and said: ‘Here is the most valuable thing in the whole of Moomin Valley, Groke! Do you know what has grown out of this hat? Raspberry juice and fruit trees, and the most beautiful little self-propelling clouds: the only Hobgoblin’s Hat in the world!’

  ‘Show!’ said the Groke scornfully.

  Then Moominmamma laid a few cherries in the hat, and everybody waited in dead silence.

  ‘If only they don’t turn into something nasty’ whispered Snufkin to the Hemulen. But they were in luck. When the Groke looked into the hat a handful of red rubies lay there.

  ‘There,’ said Moominmamma happily, ‘and think what would happen if you put a pumpkin in it!’

  The Groke looked at the hat. Then she looked at Thingumy and Bob. Then she looked at the hat again. You could see that she was thinking with all her might. Then suddenly she snatched the hat and, without a word, slithered like an icy grey shadow into the forest. It was the last time she was seen in the Valley of the Moomins, and the last they saw of the Hobgoblin’s Hat, too.

  At once the colours became warmer again and the garden was filled with the sounds and scents of summer.

  ‘Thank goodness we’ve got rid of that hat,’ said Moominmamma. ‘Now it’s done something sensible for once.’

  ‘But the clouds were fun,’ said Sniff.

  ‘And playing Tarzan in the jungle,’ added Moomintroll sadly.

  ‘Rood giddance to rad bubbish!’ said Thingumy taking the suitcase in one hand and Bob in the other, and together they walked off towards Moominhouse while the others stood looking after them.

  ‘What do they say now?’ asked Sniff.

  ‘Well! “Good afternoon!” is near enough,’ said the Hemulen.

  Chapter seven

  Which is very long and describes Snufkin’s departure and how the Contents of the mysterious suitcase were revealed; also how Moominmamma found her handbag and arranged a party to celebrate it, and finally how the Hobgoblin arrived in the Valley of the Moomins.

  IT was the end of August – the time when owls hoot at night and flurries of bats swoop noiselessly over the garden. Moomin Wood was full of glow-worms, and the sea was disturbed. There was expectation and a certain sadness in the air, and the harvest moon came up huge and yellow. Moomintroll had always liked those last weeks of summer most, but he didn’t really know why.

  The wind and the sea had changed their tone; there was a new feeling in the air; the trees stood waiting, and Moomintroll wondered if something strange were going to happen. He had woken up and lay looking at the ceiling thinking about the sunshine, and that it must be quite early in the morning.

  Then he turned his head and saw that Snufkin’s bed was empty. And at that moment he heard the secret signal under his window – a long whistle and two short ones, which meant: ‘What are your plans for today?’

  Moomintroll jumped out of bed and looked out of the window. The sun hadn’t reached the garden yet, and it looked cool and enticing down there. Snufkin was waiting.

  ‘Pee-hoo,’ said Moomintroll, very quietly so as not to wake anybody, and then he clambered down the rope-ladder.

  They said ‘hullo’ to each other and then wandered down to the river and sat on the bridge with their legs dangling over the water. The sun had risen above the tree tops by this time, and it shone right into their eyes.

  ‘We sat just like this in the spring,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Do you remember, we had woken up from our winter sleep and it was the very first day? All the others were still asleep.’

  Snufkin nodded. He was busy making reed-boats and sailing them down the river.

  ‘Where are they going?’ asked Moomintroll.

  ‘To places where I’m not,’ Snufkin answered as, one after another, the little boats swirled away round the bend of the river and disappeared.

  ‘Loaded with cinnamon, sharks’ teeth and emeralds,’ said Moomintroll.

  ‘You talked of plans,’ he went on. ‘Have you got any yourself?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Snufkin. ‘I have a plan. But it’s a lonely one, you know.’

  Moomintroll looked at him for a long time, and then he said: ‘You’re thinking of going away.’

  Snufkin nodded, and they sat for a while swinging their legs over the water, without speaking, while the river flowed on and on beneath them to all the strange places that Snufkin longed for and would go to quite alone.

  ‘When are you going?’ Moomintroll asked.

  ‘Now – immediately!’ said Snufkin, throwing all the reed-boats into the water at once, and he jumped down from the bridge and sniffed the morning air. It was a good day to start a journey; the crest of the hill beckoned to him in the sunshine, with the road winding up and disappearing on the other side to find a new valley, and then a new hill…

  Moomintroll stood looking on while Snufkin packed up his tent. ‘Are you staying away long?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Snufkin, ‘on the first day of spring I shall be here again whistling under your window – a year goes by so quickly!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Cheerio then!’

  ‘So long!’ said Snufkin.

  Moomintroll was left alone on the bridge. He watched Snufkin grow smaller and smaller, and at last disappear among the silver poplars and the plum trees. But after a while he heard the mouth-organ playing ‘All small beasts should have bows in their tails’, and then he knew that his friend was happy. He waited while the music grew fainter and fainter, till at last it was quite quiet, and then he trotted back through the dewy garden.

  On the veranda steps he found Thingumy and Bob curled up in the sunshine.

  ‘Good morning, Troominmoll,’ said Thingumy.

  ‘Good morning Bingumy and Thob,’ answe
red Moomintroll, who had now mastered Thingumy and Bob’s strange language.

  ‘Are you crying?’ asked Bob.

  ‘N-no,’ said Moomintroll, ‘it’s only that Snufkin has gone away.’

  ‘Oh, dear – pot a wity!’ said Thingumy, sympathetically. ‘Would it cheer you up to niss Bob on the kose?’

  So Moomintroll kissed Bob kindly on the nose, but it didn’t make him feel any happier.

  Then they put their heads together and whispered for a long time, and at last Bob announced, solemnly: ‘We’ve decided to show you the Contents.’

  ‘Of the suitcase?’ asked Moomintroll.

  Thingumy and Bob nodded eagerly. ‘Come with us!’ they said and scuttled away under the hedge.

  Moomintroll crawled after them and discovered they had made a secret hiding place in the thickest part of the shrubbery. They had padded it with swansdown and decorated it with shells and small white stones. It was rather dark in there, and nobody passing the hedge would have suspected that there was a secret hiding-place on the other side. On a straw mat stood Thingumy and Bob’s suitcase.

  ‘That’s the Snork Maiden’s mat,’ observed Moomintroll. ‘She was looking for it only yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Bob, happily. ‘We found it but she doesn’t know, of course.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Moomintroll. ‘And now weren’t you going to show me what you’ve got in your suitcase?’

  They nodded delightedly, and standing on either side of the suitcase said solemnly: ‘Geady, steady, ro!’

  And then the lid opened with a snap.

  ‘Goodness gracious me!’ exclaimed Moomintroll. A soft red light lit up the whole place, and before him lay a ruby as big as a panther’s head, glowing like the sunset, like living fire.

  ‘Do you like it mery vutch?’ asked Thingumy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll faintly.

  ‘And now you won’t cry any more, will you?’ said Bob.

  Moomintroll shook his head.

  Thingumy and Bob sighed contentedly and settled down to contemplate the precious stone. They stared in silent rapture at it.