Moominvalley was a kind place to live. It was gentle, and calm, and at times, rather boringly benign. Conflict didn’t really come from Moominvalley, but rather, it trespassed into it. And the punishment in Moominvalley for the treasonous act of ruining their quiet days was to be integrated into the gentleness, and kindness of the land.
Many actually preferred it that way.
Snufkin certainly did. For a drifting ghost to tether themselves like that must’ve been quite a sacrifice.
A child that once went unnoticed and unheard was allowed to become vibrant and lively once more.
Even creatures perceived as more monstrous, like the terrible Groke, who brought nothing with her but the hopeless, sinking loneliness one feels when lost in a blizzard got to feel the smallest bit of warmth for possibly the first time in the valley.
It was hard for Thingumy and Bob to feel any sympathy for The Groke and her condition. The Moomins of the Valley didn’t know what it was like for them...Always having to run out of fear of being frozen in place, the way the coldness would seep so deep into their bones that it rendered them not ill, but sick. The Groke was unforgivable in their eyes.
However, that is not to say that they wouldn’t take advantage of Moominvalley’s unwavering kindness as well. Many other vagabonds outside of the Valley regarded them as greedly little wretches, poking around where they didn’t belong. Or perhaps that they were stupid, distracted by any shiny object that would catch their eye. They said that they’d deserve any treatment they were given.
They never thought of themselves like that. There was just no real way to explain it.
They weren’t just thieves.
They just had a deep appreciation for beauty. That’s how they found each other, after all.
There was a beauty in how similar they really were, how wonderful it was that there was somebody just like them out in the world!
But there was also a beauty to be found in their differences, little things that outsiders wouldn’t pick up from them, or just wouldn’t know by looking at them.
Everybody knew that Thingumy wore a red cap all the time, but nobody knew that Bob was the one who originally sewed such a cap for their dear Thing.
Everybody knew that Bob and Thingumy could dance rather well, but nobody ever paid enough attention to see Thingumy lead.
Everybody knew that Thingumy and Bob lugged that big suitcase around with them wherever they went, but, nobody knew what was in it...all except for one. Someone they saw that was, not them, but like them, and somebody who wasn’t just like them, but someone who was sad. Maybe not as distraught as they were, but still sad.
Thingumy and Bob liked having these secrets. Secrets kept them safe, and secrets tied them together. They just liked each other more.
Nobody really understood their relationship, but it didn’t really matter. They knew, and it’s not like others didn’t respect them in spite of their lacking understanding.
Thingumy and Bob loved beauty. They loved beautiful things. They loved beautiful people, and the most beautiful people were the kindest. And the kindest people lived in Moominvalley. They are what make it the kind place it is, a place where the grass grows sweet and the trees grow tall and clouds can turn pink.
The kindest thing the Valley did, before they even met the kindest people within it, was stop them from running, and let them bask in the warm light of the sun as it crested over the hills on the dawn of a new day.
The uncertainty didn’t leave them, but it almost felt like nothing could hurt them then. The threat of harm was still there, but it was less pervasive.
After all, it was the dawn of a new day, and it was a beautiful one at that.