Chapter Text
'It's dreadful! Terrible! A complete catastrophe!' wailed Sniff, rousing Snufkin from an afternoon nap in the cattails.
He'd taken some finding, camouflaged as he was in his mossy clothes under the wild grass. Snufkin should have counted himself lucky; the awakening could've been much ruder had Sniff not noticed the docked rod he was about to trip over at the last second.
'It can't be as bad as all that,' he muttered almost immediately, and Sniff thought that a very stupid thing to say when he didn't know what it was.
'Oh, but it is,' he continued miserably, ignoring Snufkin's lips puckering into a frown.
He couldn’t see them under his wide green hat, but Sniff imagined that his eyes had rolled, too. That was just like Snufkin, to act so flippant when people interrupted him.
But Sniff didn’t care if he was interrupting him, this was a matter of great importance!
'Do quiet down,’ he was told over his woeful noises. ‘You'll frighten away the fish. And I can't hear a word through your sobbing, take this.'
‘I’m not sobbing,’ hiccuped Sniff. He accepted the ragged handkerchief Snufkin had offered from his pocket and patted at his streaming eyes.
'Breathe properly now. That's right. Now, whatever's gotten you in such a state?'
Sniff threw himself to the ground like a limp rag doll and took in a very deep breath. Something as serious as this needed the right sort of build-up, as a truly awful, horrible thing had happened to him that morning.
'I've lost my pebble.'
Such a tragedy was sure to be met with sympathy, but Snufkin only slowly lifted the brim of his hat and stared at him as though Sniff had said something completely ridiculous.
Snufkin had a way of making you feel like that. He would never, in his life, be able to wrap his head around Moomintroll's sickly gushing over him. If he and the Snork Maiden agreed on anything, it was that big brothers were impossible.
'Oh, I'm sorry,' he said flatly. 'But no matter, there are lots of pebbles - right at our feet, in fact. You can take as many as you like.'
To that, Sniff simply shook his head and sighed.
'No, you don't understand. This isn’t just some ordinary old stream pebble. My pebble is very special, you see.'
'I'm sure it was,' replied Snufkin, sounding anything but.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!’ snapped Sniff. Honestly, snufkins didn’t know how to appreciate anything.
He'd held and admired that pebble so many times that he could tell you every little detail with his eyes blindfolded and his paws tied behind his back. It was round and perfectly smooth and blue, but for a little brown speck in its centre. It was comfortingly cool and had a pleasant weight. And it was very lucky.
Sniff had had it for as long he could remember, even long before the Moominfamily had stumbled upon him. ‘And now I’ve gone and dropped it somewhere, haven’t I? Urgh, Sniff, you big buffoon!'
Smacking his paws against his sodden cheeks, Sniff began pacing the reeds in desperate circles, as though he might summon the lost pebble right under his nose if he tried hard enough.
But of course, nothing happened.
'Carrying on like that won't do you any good,' grunted Snufkin. ‘Haven’t you searched for it?’
‘Of course I have!’ bellowed Sniff, feeling quite exasperated at all these suggestions. He didn’t know why Snufkin took him for such a fool. Obviously, he’d done so the moment he’d noticed it missing.
Firstly, he’d retracted his steps. Sniff hadn’t done much the previous day, except for lazing about in the garden while the others busied themselves with laundry, so there wouldn't be many places to look.
It wasn’t waiting for him on the veranda, nor was it sitting beside the line where he'd sat blowing bubbles from the wash tub. He did find a very fetching sock caught on a nearby shrub, which he kept, as it made a pair with the one he’d come across the week previous (they didn’t match, but Sniff didn’t see a problem with wearing odd socks. And if no one had claimed it by now then they certainly wouldn’t miss it.)
Still, there was no sign of the pebble.
Then he checked his bed, just in case he'd fallen asleep with it and let it roll away in the night. He rifled through the sheets, shook out the pillow cases, and even shined a match underneath it, which nearly sent the whole thing up in flames. But it wasn’t there either.
After that, he ran to the moomins for advice. Moominpappa was of no help, brushing him off on the way to his study with a stack off papers under one arm and some odd talk about being driven by a “mews” (what on Earth cats had to do with not helping him, Sniff didn’t know).
Moominmamma had meant well, assuring him that all lost things were bound to turn up eventually and brewing a calming tea to clear his head, but all of this only wasted precious time that he could have spent out looking for his pebble.
Sniff had begun to feel desperate, so he’d gone to Moomintroll, who’d sent him out here in the first place.
‘Snufkin’s ever so wise, you know,’ he’d cooed, wetly. ‘I’m sure he could help you.’
Fat lot of good that had done him.
'See what happens when you want for things?’ he chided, shaking his head. ‘Just look at you, all this fuss over a pebble.' But Snufkin wasn't cross with him.
Sniff would have almost preferred it if he was.
No, Snufkin was speaking in that soft, understanding tone, the one he used on people who he believed were foolish and needed his guidance. For a person so unconcerned with the morals of others, he certainly had a rather high opinion of his own. And it made Sniff absolutely tremble with rage.
He balled up the handkerchief until every inch was creased and tossed it to the ground in front of him. 'I'm upset because it was important to me!'
That certainly wiped the self-satisfied smile from his face. It was rare for Snufkin not to bite back at Sniff whenever he acted in a temper, and the silence rather strengthened his willingness to speak up.
'How would you feel if you lost your mouth-organ, or-or-or that wretched old hat,' he cried unkindly, for Sniff was not in a very kind mood at all. He didn't even feel a bit sorry for Snufkin when he pulled it defensively over his ears. 'I bet other people think those are worthless - but to you they're not, are they?'
‘I just—' began Snufkin, but Sniff wasn’t finished with him yet.
‘I know, I know it all! “I just look at things and keep the memory, oh how good it is to be free and to have nothing.” You aren't the only beast who grew up with nothing, you know!’
Snufkin at least had the decency to look thoroughly ashamed with himself. And so he should, thought Sniff.
What did Snufkin know. It was all very well wanting for nothing if that was how you liked it, but Sniff had lived long enough without and wanted far more, and was that really so terrible?
He once hadn’t owned so much as a strip of rags to lie on in the coldest nights. No cosy canvas to settle down in wherever he wanted to keep away from the rain, or beautiful instruments to play to while away the hours spent alone. At least Snufkin had the choice to leave them.
‘That’s not – that isn’t what I—' he stammered, but Sniff didn’t bother sticking around to hear what he had meant.
There wouldn’t be any point; it would only be more nonsense about how he’d gotten himself attached to some stupid little stone, like the stupid little creature he was, as Sniff it seemed could never do anything right by him.
So he turned and tore up the daisies under his feet, leaving Snufkin unable to do much but to sit and stare as he marched away back to Moominhouse.