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enbyleighlines · 1 month ago

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Forgotten First Encounter

(A little Moominvalley drabble I thought up. It’s 100% ridiculous fluff, featuring baby Snufkin (tho called “Joxling” in this), Little My, and Moominmamma (called “Trolletta”)

“I’m so glad we found time to do this,” Mymble the elder said over her cup of tea. “It’s been too long since it’s been just us girls.”

“Certainly,” Trolletta agreed. She dropped a cube of sugar into her teacup, and swirled the drink with her spoon, careful to avoid clinking the utensil against the delicate porcelain. She watched as the sugar cube gradually shrank, its sharp edges softening out as it melted.

It was raining, so they were having their tea party inside. But it was not so wet that it prevented Mymble’s older children from frolicking around in the mud puddles.

The only two that weren’t outdoors were the two smallest children, Little My and the newest addition to the Mymble house, little Joxling.

Despite Little My having lived two years longer than her brother, the two children were about the same size. Trolletta had felt bad when Little My, the runt of her litter, so frequently got left behind by her littermates. So she was glad to see that Little My had a companion.

Although… Trolletta wasn’t so certain that the feeling was mutual.

Joxling was the spitting image of his father, but with his mother’s coloring. He was at that awkward phase, where he could walk, but couldn’t yet run or jump.

Still, he could climb.

In fact, that was exactly what the little creature was doing. Trolletta watched with a mix of morbid fascination and dread as Joxling slowly but surely scaled the curtains. Below him, Little My shouted words of encouragement.

She glanced at Mymble, but the other woman was, as usual, utterly blind and deaf to the antics of her children.

“What dreadful weather, though,” Mymble was saying. “It keeps drizzling and drizzling.”

“Well, yes,” Trolletta agreed. “But it’s been such a hot summer, so I think we’re overdue for some rain. My flowers certainly needed it.”

Mymble sipped her tea with a thoughtful expression. “I suppose you’re right.”

Their conversation moved on to other things— mainly catching up, as Trolletta had not had the opportunity to visit in a while. It was nice to have a woman friend, but Mymble was best taken in small doses.

While Mymble rambled about her latest trip into town, Trolletta kept one ear trained on the children on the far side of the kitchen.

Joxling was nearly halfway up the curtain by now. Little My continued to goad her baby brother on. What he hoped to gain from his little expedition was lost on Trolletta, but she had to admire his dedication.

—

“That’s it!” Little My cheered. “You’re almost there! Go, Joxie, go!”

Her brother paused just briefly enough to glance down at her, his expression flitting quickly between several different emotions. Through it all, his eyes remained dilated, like a cat ready to pounce.

At first, Little My had been thoroughly unimpressed with her mother’s newest offspring. Before Joxling came along, Little My was the baby of the family. Joxling replaced her, but worse than that, he was an incredibly boring brother. All he did was cry, sleep, and lay around like a lump of clay.

Little My had no shortage of strange and interesting brothers. So Joxling seemed like an unnecessary addition to the family.

Then Joxling started to move around on his own. He got a lot more interesting after that.

He still didn’t listen to her most of the time, but Little My was working on it. Between her brains and his ability to climb nearly any surface, she was certain that they could do anything that they put their minds to. It was just a matter of getting Joxling on board.

A few more seconds ticked by, and Little My’s excitement grew. At long last, her patience ran out, and she shouted, “Can you see it? Can you see where mamma hid the cookie jar?”

Joxling shot her another complicated look. His tail whipped back and forth, causing the curtains to shift beneath his paws. For just a second, Little My felt a stab of fear. But Joxling’s claws remained firmly lodged in the fabric.

“The cookie jar!” Little My repeated. “Can you see it?”

Joxling blinked his wide eyes at her. And then, as if he hadn’t heard her, he went back to climbing.

“Joxie! Don’t ignore me!” Little My yelled and stomped her feet, but her brother continued to ignore her. “The cookies! Look for the cookies!”

When it became clear that nothing she said would reclaim his attention, she huffed and turned her back on him. “Good for nothing brother,” she grumbled.

Turned around, she could see her mother at the table, chatting incessantly with the nice moomin woman that visited sometimes. Almost immediately, the woman caught Little My’s gaze and gave her a wave.

Little My reflexively waved back.

Then Little My’s mother turned around. Her eyes fell first onto Little My, then snapped over to Joxling. Her mouth twitched a few times. It seemed as though she couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown.

She finally settled on a frown. “Oh, dear,” their mother sighed. “What have I told you two about the curtains?”

“When Joxie climbs the curtains, his claws leave little holes in them,” Little My recited dutifully. “I tried to stop him, mamma, but he really doesn’t listen to a word I say.” It was half of a truth, and thus Little My didn’t seem so bad about her half lie.

“Oh, don’t start,” her mother scolded her gently. “I heard you encouraging him.”

The moomin woman made a move to stand up, but stopped halfway, her ears twitching nervously. “Forgive me if it’s not my place,” she said. “But I believe Joxling has gone as far as he can go. And if he falls from that height, I fear he will seriously injure himself.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Little My reassured the nice woman. “Joxie usually lands on his bum, and he’s got extra padding there ‘cause of the diaper.”

“Oh. Well, suppose he doesn’t land on his bum…”

Little My opened her mouth to insist that her baby brother was fine, really, when her mother took two long steps across the floor and plucked Joxling from the curtain with the ease of picking petals from a flower.

“You’re as bad as your father, dear,” their mother cooed to him. Then, to the moomin woman, she explained, “Joxter hasn’t met a tree he can’t climb to its tallest branches.”

“Oh!” This seemed to delight the woman, who giggled delicately into her paw. “He takes after his father in more than looks, I see.”

“Yes,” Little My answered for her mother. “Except Joxie smells much better!”

“Joxling doesn’t have much of a choice when it comes to taking a bath,” her mother added. “Plus, babies just smell nice.” As if to prove her point, she held Joxling up to her face and gave him a big, long whiff.

He put a paw against her forehead, not quite pushing her back, but preventing her from getting any closer.

Little My wrinkled her nose. “Not when they poop, they don’t.”

“Well, he has a clean diaper now, and I think he smells divine.” She took another whiff, then showed him mercy and tucked him under her armpit, holding him like he were a cat she scooped up off the street.

Little My knew it was one of the only ways Joxling allowed himself to be held, so she was used to the sight, even if she still thought it looked rather funny.

—

Trolletta could finally breathe again, now that the young Joxling was out of immediate danger. And she couldn’t help but smile at how Mymble held him like a fancy toy dog.

Strangeness aside, Joxling seemed content enough. His limbs were dangling, loose and limp, but the rest of him was alert, eyes surveying the room from his new vantage point, and his tail swinging like a pendulum.

Up close, the resemblance to his father was even clearer.

“What a strange little fellow,” Trolletta noted, not unkindly. “He has no fur, and his hair is so fair, but his mannerisms are so much like his mumrik father.”

“He’s an odd one,” Little My chirped.

“Yes,” Mymble agreed. “Trolletta, would you like to hold him?”

“Can I?”

In lieu of a verbal reply, Mymble simply dumped the young Joxling into Trolletta’s arms. There was a moment of panic in the young boy’s features, his body seizing up and his claws outstretched. But upon contact with Trolletta’s thickly furred arms, the boy immediately melted.

Trolletta shifted him gently, trying to find a better position for him to lie against her chest.

Surprising her further, Joxling allowed her to move him like a doll, all the while staring at her with his large, round eyes.

And then, all of a sudden, the child began to purr.

“Oh!” Trolletta exclaimed.

“Oh my,” Mymble tutted. “He rarely ever purrs for me. But he’s always been fond of his father’s tail. Letting him hold onto it is the only way we can get him to sleep most nights.”

Trolletta couldn’t stop the giant grin that bloomed across her mouth. “I can understand that. There is nothing so nice as falling asleep surrounded by softness and warmth, is there, little one?”

Joxling blinked slowly at her, as if in agreement.

And then, rumbling all the louder, he nuzzled his face into her stomach. His fingers clutched at her, then relaxed, then squeezed again, in a rhythmic pattern, not unlike kneading dough.

Trolletta balanced his weight with one arm so that she could stroke his back with her free paw. He vibrated against her palm.

Slowly, as to not disturb him, Trolletta lowered herself back down into her chair. Little My approached her warily at first, but then her curiosity won out, and she stood on her tiptoes against Trolletta’s knee, stretching her neck as far as it could go.

Her little paw lifted, then hovered hesitantly in the air.

“I’ve never heard him purr so loud before,” Little My whispered. Her voice sounded concerned. “He’s not going to choke on his own purr and die, is he? Because it sounds like he’s gonna choke.”

“No,” Trolletta assured her. “Here, you can touch him, if you want. Pet his back gently, like I’m doing.”

Little My squinted at her brother. With that wary look still fixed upon her face, she inched her paw across the empty space until it made contact with Joxling’s back. And then, after another pause, she began to pet him.

The purrs somehow grew even louder.

Slowly, gradually, Little My’s face softened into a look of affection. “Wow,” she murmured.

“Look at you,” Mymble whispered. “Why, my good friend, you’re a natural. Have you considered having one of your own?”

Trolletta worked hard to suppress the reflex to flinch.

The truth was that her sweet Moomin and her had been trying. She’d taken every fertility remedy she could find in her grandmother’s book of recipes. And though it had taken longer than she’d hoped, it seemed that all of the effort might have borne fruit.

But Trolletta wasn’t certain yet.

Yes, all the early signs were there. She had a hard time keeping her breakfast down, but was ravenous by lunchtime. Her mood kept fluctuating faster than it had during her early teen years. And, of course, there was the fact that her monthly cycle was late to start.

All the signs were promising. But it was still too early to tell for certain. And so Moomin and her agreed they weren’t telling anyone, not yet.

“I have considered it, yes,” Trolletta answered mildly.

“You really should,” Mymble insisted. “You would make a remarkable mother, I’m sure. Look at how quickly my two little antisocial gremlins warmed up to you!”

Trolletta laughed to cover her nervousness. “I will keep that in mind,” she said, and hoped that was that.

Thankfully, Mymble said no more on the matter, and the room lapsed into a calm, comfortable silence. The only thing that could be heard was the incessant rumbling of Joxling’s purr, and Little My’s occasional little “Oh!” of delight and affection.

The End

#moominvalley #snufkin #little my #moominmamma #mymblemamma #short drabble

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