Moominvalley in November (4 page)

There are millions of tunes that are easy to find and there will always be new ones. But Snufkin let them alone, they were summer songs which would do for just anybody. He crept into his tent and into his sleeping-bag and pulled it over his head. The faint whisper of rain and running water was still there and it had the same tender note of solitude and perfection. But what did the rain mean to him as long as he couldn't write a song about it?

CHAPTER 5
Hemulen

T
HE
Hemulen woke up slowly and recognized himself and wished he had been someone he didn't know. He felt even tireder than when he went to bed, and here it was - another day which would go on until evening and then there would be another one and another one which would be the same as all days are when they are lived by a hemulen.

He crept under the bedcover and buried his nose in the pillow, then he shifted his stomach to the edge of the bed where the sheets were cool. He took possession of the whole bed with outstretched arms and legs, he was waiting for a nice dream that wouldn't come. He curled up and made himself small but it didn't help a bit. He tried being the hemulen that everybody liked, he tried being the hemulen that no one liked. But however hard he tried he remained a hemulen doing his best without anything really coming off. In the end he got up and pulled on his trousers.

The Hemulen didn't like getting dressed and undressed, it gave him a feeling that the days passed without anything of importance happening. Even so, he spent the whole day arranging, organizing and directing things from morning till night! All around him there were people living slipshod and aimless lives, wherever he looked there was something to be put to rights and he worked his fingers to the bone trying to get them to see how they ought to live.

It's as though they don't want to live well, the Hemulen thought sadly as he brushed his teeth. He looked at the photograph of himself with his boat which had been taken when the boat was launched. It was a beautiful picture but it made him feel even sadder.

I ought to learn how to sail, the Hemulen thought. But I've never got enough time...

Suddenly the Hemulen thought that all he ever did was to move things from one place to another or talk about where they should be put, and in a moment of insight he wondered what would happen if he let things alone.

Actually, nothing, somebody else would look after everything, the Hemulen said to himself and put his toothbrush back in its glass. He was surprised and a little frightened by what he had said and a chill went down his spine as it did when the clock struck twelve on New Year's Eve, and he immediately thought but then I must go sailing... Then he felt really sick and went and sat down on the bed.

Now I don't understand anything, thought the poor old Hemulen. What on earth did I say anything like that for? There are certain things one shouldn't think about, one shouldn't go into things too deeply. He tried to find something pleasant to think about that would drive away his morning melancholy, he tried and tried and gradually a friendly and distant memory of summer came to him. The

Hemulen remembered Moominvalley. It was a terribly long time since he had been there, but there was one thing he remembered quite clearly. It was the guest room facing south, and he recalled how nice it was to wake up there in the morning. The window was open and a gentle summer breeze stirred the white curtains, the window-catch rattled softly in the wind... And the fly that buzzed on the ceiling. And that there was no hurry to do anything. Morning coffee was waiting on the veranda, everything would arrange itself and go of its own accord.

There was a family there, too, but he didn't remember them very clearly, they pottered to and fro and went about their business in a friendly and vague sort of way - a family, in other words. Moominpappa he could remember a little more clearly, and perhaps Moominpappa's boat. And the jetty, too. But best of all he remembered what it felt like to wake up in the morning and feel happy.

The Hemulen got up, went to get his toothbrush and stuffed it in his pocket. He no longer felt sick, he felt like a completely new hemulen.

No one saw the Hemulen leave, without a suitcase, without an umbrella and without saying good-bye to a single one of his neighbours.

The Hemulen wasn't used to walking in the countryside. He lost his way several times, but that didn't make him feel either uneasy or angry.

I've never got lost before, he thought bravely. And I've never been wet-through before! He waved his arms about and felt like the man in the song who walked alone in the rain a thousand miles from home and was wild and free. The Hemulen felt so happy! And soon he would be drinking hot coffee on the veranda.

Less than a mile east of the valley the Hemulen came down to the river, looked thoughtfully at the dark running water and the thought occurred to him that life was like a river. Some people sailed on it slowly, some quickly, and some capsized. I'll tell that to Moominpappa, the Hemulen thought gravely. I think it must be a completely new thought. Just fancy, thoughts come easily today, and everything has become so straightforward. All you have to do is

to walk out of the door with your hat on at a jaunty angle! Perhaps I'll take the boat out. I'll sail out to sea. I can feel the firm pressure of the rudder on my paw... The firm pressure of the rudder on my paw, the Hemulen repeated, and now he felt so happy that it almost hurt. He tightened his belt round his fat stomach and walked on along the river.

When the Hemulen got to the valley it was filled with a fine, drizzling rain. He walked straight into the garden and stopped, with a puzzled look on his face. Something wasn't right. Everything was the same but somehow not the same. A withered leaf floated down and landed on his nose.

How silly, the Hemulen exclaimed. It's not summer at all. It's autumn! In some way or another he had always thought of Moominvalley in summer. He went up to the house, stopped in front of the veranda steps and tried to yodel. He couldn't. Then he shouted: 'Hallo there, you inside! Put the coffee on!'

Nothing happened. The Hemulen shouted again and waited a while.

Now I'll play a trick on them, he thought. He pulled up his collar and dragged his hat down over his nose, then he found a rake by the water-butt and lifted it threateningly above his head. Then he yelled: 'Open in the name of the Law!'

He stood still and waited, shaking with laughter. The house was silent. It rained more heavily, falling and falling over the Hemulen as he waited, and nothing could be heard in the valley except the swish of falling rain.

CHAPTER 6
First Encounter

T
OFT
had never been in Moominvalley, but he didn't get lost. It was a very long way there and Toft's legs were short. Everywhere there were deep pools and swamps and great trees that had fallen down with age or been blown over by a storm. Their torn roots lifted huge lumps of earth into the air and underneath them pools of black water glistened. Toft walked round them, he walked round every single swamp and every single pool and didn't get lost once. He felt very happy because he knew exactly what he wanted. The forest smelt good, even better than the Hemulen's boat.