Tales From Moominvalley (7 page)

The tornado went solemnly wandering off over the fields, and she saw it taper off, break and disperse. It wasn't needed any more.

The fillyjonk drew a deep breath. Now I'll never be afraid again, she said to herself. Now I'm free. Now I can do anything.

She placed the china kitten on a boulder. It had lost an

ear during the night and got a blob of black oil on its nose. It had a new look, slightly impish and cheeky.

The sun rose higher. The fillyjonk went down to the wet sand. There lay her carpet. The sea had decorated it with seaweed and shells, and no carpet had ever been more thoroughly rinsed. The fillyjonk chuckled. She lifted the carpet in both paws and pulled it after her out in the swells.

She dived headlong in a large green swell, she sat on her carpet and surfed on sizzling white foam, she dived again, down and down.

One swell after the other came rolling over her, transparently green, and then the fillyjonk came to the surface again, for a breath, and to look at the sun, spluttering and laughing and shouting and dancing with her carpet in the surf.

Never in her life had she had such fun.

Gaffsie had been shouting and calling for several minutes before the fillyjonk caught sight of her.

'How terrible!' shouted Gaffsie. 'Dear, poor little Mrs Fillyjonk!'

'Good morning!' said the fillyjonk and pulled her carpet to the beach.

'How are you today?'

'I'm beside myself,' Gaffsie cried. 'What a night! I've thought of you all the time. And I saw it myself! I saw it coming! What a disaster!'

'How do you mean?' asked the fillyjonk innocently.

'How right you were, how very right,' said Gaffsie. 'You
said
there was a disaster coming. Oh, all your beautiful things! Your beautiful home! I've tried to call you all night, I was so worried, but the line had blown down...'

'That was kind of you,' said the fillyjonk and wrenched the water from her cap. 'But really quite unnecessary. If you feel worried there's nothing like putting a little vinegar in the rinsing water. Then the colours keep!'

And the fillyjonk sat down in the sand and wept with laughter.

The Last Dragon in the World

O
NE
Thursday, one of the last of the dog-days, Moomintroll caught a small dragon in the brown pond to the right of Moominpappa's hammock-tree.

Of course he hadn't dreamed of catching a dragon. He had hunted for a few of those small wobbly things that were rowing about in the bottom mud, because he wanted to know how they moved their legs when swimming, and whether they always swam backwards. But when he lifted his glass jar against the light there was something altogether different in it.

'By my everlasting tail,' Moomintroll whispered, overawed. He held the jar between both paws and could only stare.

The dragon was no bigger than a matchbox, and it swam around with graceful strokes of its transparent wings that were as beautiful as the fins of a goldfish.

But no goldfish was as splendidly golden as this miniature dragon. It was sparkling like gold; it was knobbly with gold in the sunlight, the small head was emerald green and its eyes were lemon yellow. The six golden legs had each a green little paw, and the tail turned green towards the tip. It was a truly wonderful dragon.

Moomintroll screwed the lid on the jar (there were breathing-holes) and carefully put it down in the moss. Then he stretched himself out beside the jar and took a closer look.

The dragon swam close to the glass wall and opened its small jaws. They were packed with tiny white teeth.

It's angry, Moomintroll thought. It's angry even if it's so very small. What can I do to make it like me?... And what does it eat? What do dragons feed on?

A little worried and anxious he lifted the jar in his arms and started homewards, cautiously, so as not to make the dragon hurt itself against the glass walls. It was so very small and delicate.

'I'll keep you and pet you and love you,' Moomintroll whispered. 'You can sleep on my pillow. When you grow up and start liking me I'll take you for swims in the sea...'

*

Moominpappa was working on his tobacco patch. One could always show him the dragon and ask him about it. Or still, perhaps better not. Not yet. One could keep it a secret for a few days, until it had become used to people. And until one had had the greatest fun of all: showing it to Snufkin.

Moomintroll pressed the jar hard against him and went strolling towards the back door as indifferently as possible. The others were somewhere on the front side by the verandah. At the moment when Moomintroll slunk up the back steps little My jumped into view from behind the water barrel and called:

'What've you got?'

'Nothing,' said Moomintroll.

'A jar,' said My, craning her neck. 'What's in it? Why are you hiding it?'

Moomintroll rushed upstairs and into his room. He put the jar on the table. The water was sloshing about, and the dragon had wound his wings around him and curled up into a ball. Now it slowly straightened out and showed its teeth.

It won't happen again, Moomintroll promised. I'm so sorry, dearest. He screwed off the lid, so as to give the dragon a better view, and then he went to the door and put the latch on. You never knew with My.

When he returned to the dragon it had crawled out of the water and was sitting on the edge of the jar. Moomintroll cautiously stuck out a paw to fondle it.

At this the dragon opened its jaws again and blew out a small cloud of smoke. A red tongue darted out like a flame and vanished again...

'Ow,' said Moomintroll, because he had burned himself. Not much, but distinctly.

He admired the dragon more than ever.

'You're angry, aren't you?' he asked in a low voice. 'You're terribly wild and cruel and wicked, are you, what? Oh you sweet little goody-goody-goo!'

The dragon snorted.

Moomintroll crawled under his bed and pulled out his night box. In it were a couple of small pancakes, now a little dried, half a piece of bread and butter and an apple. He cut small pieces from them all and laid the morsels on the table in a circle around the dragon. It sniffed at them, gave him a contemptuous look and suddenly ran surprisingly nimbly to the window, where it attacked a large August fly.

The fly stopped humming and started to screech. The dragon already had its small green forepaws around its neck and blew a little smoke in its eyes.

And then the small white teeth went snippity-snap, the jaws came open and the August fly disappeared. The dragon swallowed twice, licked its snout, scratched its ear and gave Moomintroll a scoffing, one-eyed glance.

'How clever you are!' cried Moomintroll. 'My little teeny-weeny-poo!'

Just then Moominmamma beat the lunch gong downstairs.

'Now wait for me and be good,' Moomintroll said. 'I'll be back soon.'

He stood for a moment looking longingly at the dragon, that didn't appear to be cuddly in the least. Then he whispered: 'Little dearie,' and ran downstairs and out on the verandah.

Even before her spoon had touched her porridge My started off:

'Certain people seem to be hiding secrets in mysterious glass jars.'

'Shut up,' said Moomintroll.

'One is led to believe,' My continued, 'that certain people are keeping leeches or wood-lice or why not very large centipedes that multiply a hundred times a minute.'

'Mother,' Moomintroll said. 'You know, I've always wished for some small pet that was attached to me, and if I would ever have one, then it should be, or would...'

'How much wood would a wood louse chuck,' said My and blew bubbles in her milk glass.

'What?' asked Moominpappa and looked up from his newspaper.

'Moomintroll has found a new animal,' Moomin-mamma explained. 'Does it bite?'

'It's so small it can't bite very hard,' her son mumbled.

'And when will it grow up?' asked the Mymble. 'When can one have a look at it? Does it talk?'

Moomintroll was silent. Now all was spoiled again. One ought to have the right to have a secret and to spring it as a surprise. But if you live inside a family you have neither. They know about everything from the start, and nothing's any fun after that.

'I'm going down to the river after lunch,' Moomintroll said, slowly and contemptuously. Contemptuously as a dragon. 'Mother, please tell them that they're not to go into my room. I can't answer for the consequences.'