The valley was recovering itself from a terrible flood. Just as all its citizens had to recollect their things and repair their homes, so did the valley have to right itself and its many belongings, drinking in the shining sun day after day until all of the excess water had slithered itself into a stream or turned to clouds in the air. And for the experience, the valley seemed more beautiful, quenched and refreshed off it's disaster. It was amazing how it all could drown for days and still offer summer after.
Moomintroll laid in his bed, with that before-sleep mind filled with disconnected sentences eager to become dreams. But then he heard a whistle outside his window, one with a long drawl and a peck, it meant: 'I have a plan'. That was an exciting one. His heart knew what it meant before his mind, jolting and giddy. It felt like a friend grabbing his arm and yanking him out of bed.
He gave Snufkin a quiet (best not wake the others) whistle of confirmation, and climbed out his window to him. They smiled at each other, but then Snufkin didn't say a word; he simply turned and began walking in a direction. Maybe it wasn't a night for words. Those were good ones. Some people would get hurt by silence, but not Moomintroll, who knew Snufkin so well he could never take offense from it.
They walked and walked where everything changed in the moonlight. The valley was shapes and slivers of greyed-out color, and it all looked so different from day that occasionally Moomintroll had to pause his eyes to piece together where they were. It was a little exciting not being sure, so he decided then to watch only the ground in front of him, and Snufkin's boots. He would only look up whenever they stopped.
The ground became hard rock covered in soft moss. He could smell fresh water and feel the air a bit thicker around him, misted. Finally they had stopped, and he looked.
It was a new basin of water- the flood had ran here, safe from the sun between tall rocks, making a pool of itself. It was so fresh it did not stir, as though no frog or creep had found it yet. Moomintroll brimmed with excitement and awe, he was speechless, which was probably just what Snufkin wanted for him to be. This was certainly the kind of thing to be silent about showing, making a talk of it wouldn't do respect to its stillness and secrecy. Oh, it was so wonderful, and he couldn't believe it was to share. Snufkin could be as alone as he wanted here, he could preserve it for a while before it was inevitably spoiled, but he wanted to share it.
Moomintroll breathed and took it in as truly and completely as possible. The water was black in the moonlight, with streaks of pure white where the moonlight escaped to it, looking like untextured swishes of paint layered over top. While the sun would threaten the pool's serenity, threaten to draw it all up to the sky, the moonlight stroked it gently in its basin. Moomintroll wished he could be the moonlight just then, quite poetically, more like his father than ever for an instant.
The water trusted the moonlight to not disturb it, and Snufkin trusted Moomintroll with this night.
Every time Snufkin shared something with him it felt surprising. Ever since the first night he heard a whistle below his window, to go rescue the Hobgoblin's hat from the river (or rather, the river from the Hobgoblin's hat), he was no less excited for each subsequent invitation. He had never been so alone with someone ever before.
He wanted to leap right in. He looked for permission from his friend (he would gladly let him go first), who nodded, and Moomintroll wasted no time. He leapt into the water, through its inches of warm to its cold stomach. Streaks of white broke into tiny fragments on waves across the surface, and dry rock faces tasted the fresh water for the first time since it crept between them. He heard a splash and popped up to see Snufkin's hat and cloak sitting on the rocks.
They swam without talking, doing somersaults in the water and swimming above and below each other. Moomintroll upturned the smaller rocks on the bottom, where not a thing crawled out from under them. They swam and swam, inspecting every inch of their pool. No corner was terribly different from the other, but incredible just the same.
He heard Snufkin crawl out, and watched him recede into a recess among the rocks. Without hesitation he followed, knowing that was the thing to do. Swim in a lake- exist or chat quietly in a cave together. It was the way of these things.
Moomintroll shook his body to toss off the water, and Snufkin had apparently grabbed his hat and swam it there at some point, as it was right back on his head (too wet for his cloak, however) when Moomintroll was done. Without the cloak, he looked much smaller, especially with his clothes sticking to him. They watched the pool dance in the aftermath of their frivolity until at last, all of the streaks of white found their peace and returned to stillness.
"Thank you for sharing this with me," Moomintroll said at last. Snufkin looked distracted by something, but he didn't try to figure it out. Anything could go on in Snufkin's head.
And anything was. Snufkin thought about so much. The flood, the children, the police, their escape. That night, in all its chaos, he thought of Moomintroll and moonlight swims and the quiet talks of two people who knew how to be quiet and like it. It had been some weeks (for it took that long for the flood to recede, and longer still for him to discover the proper place) since then.
Snufkin hadn't thought about perfection before, as it was a useless thing when life is beautiful for being unpredictable and scattered like wildflowers and waves on the sea. But the whole while leading up to this he kept thinking of it, perhaps because of the mess and stress that was the flood's events. But now he thought perhaps it wasn't perfection, but something like more knowing, that he had been thinking of. Or trusting, maybe, or certainty. Something like that.
Whatever it was he had thought of it and Moomintroll until his mouth was tired from clamping around his pipe. He was calm now, though, that the day had finally come. To sit in the dark with Moomintroll and coexist like he knew a Moomintroll would allow without trouble.
It was so lovely it stung and pulled him. You weren't supposed to predict loveliness, you came upon it while wandering or when the sky decided to grant it to you. He felt strange and at peace and uncertain with its serenity. He felt too many things but he wanted nothing else (that was most worrying of all).
Together they sat, looking into the black and white of water in the moonlight.