Chapter Text
It was a balmy spring day, the air sweet and heavy; the sort of day that was perfect for drinking pink lemonade and laying in a field and watching the fluffy clouds scuttle by. In fact, Moomin had been doing exactly that, until the familiar sight of a pointed green hat filled his vision. The hat’s owner smiled down at him and asked if he wanted to join him.
And so the pair ended up in the fields just beyond the forest, hunting for new and interesting flowers for Snufkin to make a wreath around his hat to replace the old and wilted ones. The field was perfect for their cause. Moomin set about picking different shades of poppies and long shoots of fuzzy lavender, while Snufkin carefully collected teeny, tiny scarlet pimpernel and daisies. For a long time, there were no sounds but the buzzing of bees, the warbling of birds, and the gentle breeze ruffling through the fields.
Moomin found himself humming one of Snufkin’s recent tunes as he worked. It was such a light and flittering tune, sprightly and playful, and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. How Snufkin was able to create such songs, Moomin couldn’t even imagine. As he reached to pick what he thought was more lavender, Moomin paused in his humming and made a noise of surprise. The dainty purple flowers weren’t lavender at all—they grew from a short little plant with broad, flat leaves that looked very much like mint.
“What is it?” Snufkin asked curiously, wandering to Moomin’s side.
“Oh, just a flower I’d never seen before. It’s quite pretty.”
Moomin picked one of the stalks covered in the little flowers and examined them closely. They were vaguely trumpet-shaped, with frilly little edges. He handed the stalk to Snufkin.
“Hm. I’ve never seen them before either. It is pretty,” Snufkin agreed. He sniffed the little blossoms and hummed pleasantly.
“They smell nice too.”
Snufkin brought the stalk closer to his face to breathe it deeper. He made another soft noise at the back of his throat, and buried his nose in the plant completely, nuzzling and sniffing. Moomin tilted an ear.
“Wow, it’s that good?”
He turned and picked another stalk of the little purple flowers and sniffed at them. There was a very light, faintly sweet scent, but … nothing that amazing.
Moomin turned to Snufkin quizzically,
“Snufkin, I’m not sure what you … er …”
He trailed off at the sight of his friend rubbing the plant in his face blissfully. After a moment, Snufkin seemed to realize what he was doing, and gingerly took the crunched stalk away from his face. He looked mildly embarrassed.
“Um.” Snufkin coughed. “Sorry, this one got a little smooshed.”
Moomin laughed.
“That’s all right. I’m glad you like it so much. I’ll pick some more for you.”
Moomin picked several more long stalks of the strange little purple flowers, and some of the leaves as well. Once they’d finished collecting blooms, Moomin watched his friend expertly weave the flowers into a wreath. It was full of oranges and purples and whites and absolutely brimming with cheer. Moomin helped him place it around his hat.
“It’s perfect,” Moomin said, admiring the new look. Snufkin really looked very handsome with them, a crown befitting of a wandering prince.
Uh. Moomin blinked. He wasn’t sure where that thought had come from.
“Not quite,” Snufkin said. Moomin took a moment to process that before asking,
“Why’s that?”
Snufkin smiled lightly.
“We still need to make a matching one for you, of course.”
Moomin waved his tail about happily.
“Oh! Okay.”
So the two made a second flower crown to adorn Moomin. Snufkin wove a large number of the little purple flowers into it, including lots of the soft, fluffy leaves. They contrasted nicely with the scarlet pimpernel. Moomin grinned as Snufkin placed it gently upon his head.
“How’s it look?” Moomin asked cheerfully.
His friend looked at him a moment with those calm eyes of his; a warm, hazelnut gaze trailing lazily over him. A soft smile touched Snufkin’s face.
“You look lovely,” he answered, and Moomin felt a bubble of warmth fill up his chest. Snufkin leaned in slightly and added playfully,
“You smell lovely too.”
The little bubble of warmth in Moomin’s chest expanded and Moomin felt himself blushing.
“Aah—uhhmm—th-thank you.”
“Are you getting hungry? I could do with something.”
Moomin nodded and agreed,
“We could head back to Moominhouse, there’s leftover sandwiches.”
So they headed back in the direction of Moominhouse to find a late lunch. Along the way back, Moomin began humming that tune again without even realizing it, and Snufkin wordlessly slipped the harmonica from his pocket and began playing along. Moomin skipped along the dirt path and started to dance goofily as they walked. He could see Snufkin smiling at his antics as he played, which only further encouraged Moomin. The young troll spun and bounced around Snufkin in a circle as they walked, grinning widely. Snufkin started to move in winding circles along with him, skipping along. Moomin laughed and twirled, and Snufkin did the same, and before long, they were both dancing without a care in the world.