Moominland Midwinter (10 page)

The pale winter sun shone over a big Hemulen who came rushing down the nearest slope on his skis. He was holding a shining brass horn to his snout, and seemed to be having a splendid time.

'That one's going to eat lots of jam,' Moomintroll thought. 'And
whatever
are those things he's got on his feet?'

The Hemulen laid his bugle on the woodshed roof and took off his skis.

'Good slopes you have hereabouts,' he said. 'Got any slalom here?'

'I'll ask,' said Moomintroll.

He crawled back to the drawing-room and asked:

'Is there anybody here by name of Slalom?'

'My name's Salome,' whispered the Creep who had been frightened by the mirror.

Moomintroll went back out to the Hemulen and said: 'Almost, but not quite. Here's one Salome.'

But the Hemulen was sniffing about in Moomin-pappa's tobacco plot and didn't listen. 'This is the place for a house,' he said. 'We'll make an igloo here.'

'You might move into my house,' Moomintroll said lingeringly.

'Thanks, never,' replied the Hemulen. 'Too stuffy and unhealthy. I want fresh air, and lots of it. Let's start at once and not lose any time.'

Moomintroll's guests were beginning to crawl outside. They stopped and stood staring.

'Won't he play some more?' asked Salome the Little Creep.

'There's a time for everything, young lady,' said the Hemulen briskly. 'This is the time for a spot of work.'

A little later all the guests were busy building an igloo on Moominpappa's tobacco plot. The Hemulen himself was enjoying a swim in the river, with a couple of chilled Creep as terrified spectators.

Moomintroll went running down to the bathing-house at top-speed.

'Too-ticky!' he shouted. 'There's a Hemulen here...

He's going to live in an igloo, and at this moment he's
bathing
in the river.'

'Oh,
that
kind of Hemulen,' Too-ticky said earnestly. 'Then good-bye to peace and all that.' She laid her fishing-rod aside.

On their way back they met Little My who beamed with excitement. 'Seen what he's got?' she cried. 'They're called skis! I'm going to get myself a pair exactly like them at once!'

The igloo was already taking shape. The guests drudged for all they were worth, all the while throwing longing looks towards the jam-cellar. The Hemulen was doing gymnastics down by the river. 'Isn't the cold wonderful?' he said. 'I'm never in such good shape as in winter. Won't you have a dip before breakfast?'

Moomintroll stared at the Hemulen's sweater. It was black and lemon-yellow and zigzaggy. He wondered, slightly troubled, why he couldn't find the Hemulen a jolly person. Although he had been longing and longing for somebody who wouldn't be secretive and distant but cheery and tangible, exactly like the Hemulen.

And now he was feeling more a stranger to the Hemulen than even to the angry and incomprehensible beast under the sink.

He looked helplessly at Too-ticky. She was pouting her underlip and looking at her mitten with raised eyebrows. From this Moomintroll knew that Too-ticky didn't like the Hemulen either. He turned to the Hemulen and said with all the kindness of a bad conscience: 'It must be wonderful to like cold water.'

T love it,' replied the Hemulen, beaming at him. 'It puts a stop to all unnecessary thoughts and fancies. Believe me: there's nothing more dangerous in life than to become an indoor sitter.'

'Oh?' said Moomintroll.

'Yes. It gives you all kinds of ideas,' said the Hemulen. 'What time's breakfast here?'

'When I've caught some fish,' Too-ticky said sullenly.

'I never eat fish,' said the Hemulen. 'Only vegetables and berries.'

'Cranberry jam?' Moomintroll asked hopefully. The large jar of mashed cranberries had not been popular.

But the Hemulen replied: 'No. Preferably strawberry.'

After breakfast the Hemulen donned his skis and went up the highest of the near-by slopes, the one that started on the hill-top and passed the cave. Down in the valley stood all the guests, looking on. They were a little uncertain of what to think. They tramped about in the snow and wiped their noses now and then, because it was a very cold day.

Now the Hemulen came hurtling downhill. It looked terrifying. Halfway down the slope he swerved in a cloud of glittering snowdust and careered off in another direction. Then he gave a shout and swerved back again. Now he was rushing one way, and now another, and his black-and-yellow sweater made one's eyes water.

Moomintroll closed his eyes and thought: 'How very different people are.'

Little My was already standing at the top of the hill, shouting from joy and admiration. She had broken a barrel and fastened two of the staves under her boots.

'Here I come,' she cried. Without a moment's hesitation Little My set out, straight down the hill. Moomintroll looked up with one eye and saw that she would manage it. Her ferocious little face bore the mark of happy confidence and her legs were stiff as pegs.

Suddenly Moomintroll felt very proud. Little My never shied, she hurtled at breakneck speed close to a pine-bole, wobbled, caught her balance again, and with a roar of laughter threw herself down in the snow beside Moomintroll.

'She's one of my oldest friends,' he explained to the Fillyjonk.

'I believe you,' replied the Fillyjonk sourly. 'What time are elevenses here?'

The Hemulen came plodding over to them. He had taken off his skis, and his snout was glistening from friendliness and warmth. 'Now let's teach Moomin how to ski,' he said.

'I'd prefer not, thanks,' Moomintroll mumbled and shrank back a little. He looked around for Too-ticky. But she had gone, perhaps to catch another kettle of fish.

'The main thing's to keep cool, whatever happens,' the Hemulen was saying encouragingly and already fastening the skis to Moomintroll's paws.

'But I don't want to...' Moomintroll began miserably.

Little My was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

'Oh, well,' he said bleakly. 'But no high hill.'

'No, no, just the slope down to the bridge,' the Hemulen said. 'Bend your knees. Lean forward. Don't let the skis slip apart. Keep a straight back. Arms close to body. Can you remember what I've told you?'

'No,' said Moomintroll.

He felt a push in the back, closed his eyes and started off. First his skis ran as far away as possible from each other. Then they came together again and mixed themselves up with his ski-sticks. On top of the mixture lay Moomintroll in a strange position. The guests cheered up.

'Patience is very necessary,' said the Hemulen. 'Oops-a-daisy, and let's do it again.'

'Legs feel a bit shaky,' muttered Moomintroll. This was almost worse than the lonely kind of winter. Even the sun, the so-much-longed-for, was shining straight down into the valley, looking at his humiliation.

Now the bridge came rushing at him up the hill. Moomintroll stuck out one leg to save his balance. The other leg went skiing on. The guests gave a cheer and were beginning to find some fun in life again.

Nothing was up any more, and nothing was down. Nothing existed but snow and misery and disaster everywhere.

Then, finally, Moomintroll found himself hanging in the willow-bushes by the river. His tail was trailing in the icy water, and the water was filled with skis and sticks and new, hostile perspectives.

'Won't do to lose your pluck,' the Hemulen kindly remarked. 'Next time does it!'

But there was no next time, because Moomintroll lost his pluck. Yes, he really did it, and many times much later he had a dream about how he'd felt that third, triumphant time. He'd have swerved up to the bridge in a sweeping curve, and then stopped and turned round towards the others with a smile. And they'd have shouted in admiration. But now things didn't go that way at all.

Instead Moomintroll said: 'I'm going home. Ski all you care to, but I'm going home.'

And without looking at anybody he crawled into the snow-tunnel and into his warm drawing-room, and farthest into his nest under the rocking chair.

He could hear the Hemulen's whoops from the hill. Moomintroll put his head inside the stove and whispered: 'I don't like him either.'

The ancestor threw down a flake of soot, perhaps to show his sympathy. Moomintroll took a piece of coal and began peacefully to draw on the back of the sofa. He drew a Hemulen standing on his head in a snowdrift. And inside the stove stood a large jar of strawberry jam.