Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson

all unnecessary thoughts and fancies. Believe me: there's nothing more dangerous in life than to become an indoor sitter.'
    'Oh?' said Moomintroll.
    'Yes. It gives you all kinds of ideas,' said the Hemulen. 'What time's breakfast here?'
    'When I've caught some fish,' Too-ticky said sullenly.
    'I never eat fish,' said the Hemulen. 'Only vegetables and berries.'
    'Cranberry jam?' Moomintroll asked hopefully. The large jar of mashed cranberries had not been popular.
    But the Hemulen replied: 'No. Preferably strawberry.'

    After breakfast the Hemulen donned his skis and went up the highest of the near-by slopes, the one that started on the hill-top and passed the cave. Down in the valley stood all the guests, looking on. They were a little uncertain of what to think. They tramped about in the snow and wiped their noses now and then, because it was a very cold day.
    Now the Hemulen came hurtling downhill. It looked terrifying. Halfway down the slope he swerved in a cloud of glittering snowdust and careered off in another direction. Then he gave a shout and swerved back again. Now he was rushing one way, and now another, and his black-and-yellow sweater made one's eyes water.
    Moomintroll closed his eyes and thought: 'How very different people are.'
    Little My was already standing at the top of the hill, shouting from joy and admiration. She had broken a barrel and fastened two of the staves under her boots.
    'Here I come,' she cried. Without a moment's hesitation Little My set out, straight down the hill. Moomintroll looked up with one eye and saw that she would manage it. Her ferocious little face bore the mark of happy confidence and her legs were stiff as pegs.
    Suddenly Moomintroll felt very proud. Little My never shied, she hurtled at breakneck speed close to a pine-bole, wobbled, caught her balance again, and with a roar of laughter threw herself down in the snow beside Moomintroll.
    'She's one of my oldest friends,' he explained to the Fillyjonk.
    'I believe you,' replied the Fillyjonk sourly. 'What time are elevenses here?'
    The Hemulen came plodding over to them. He had taken off his skis, and his snout was glistening from friendliness and warmth. 'Now let's teach Moomin how to ski,' he said.
    'I'd prefer not, thanks,' Moomintroll mumbled and shrank back a little. He looked around for Too-ticky. But she had gone, perhaps to catch another kettle of fish.
    'The main thing's to keep cool, whatever happens,' the Hemulen was saying encouragingly and already fastening the skis to Moomintroll's paws.
    'But I don't want to...' Moomintroll began miserably.
    Little My was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
    'Oh, well,' he said bleakly. 'But no high hill.'

    'No, no, just the slope down to the bridge,' the Hemulen said. 'Bend your knees. Lean forward. Don't let the skis slip apart. Keep a straight back. Arms close to body. Can you remember what I've told you?'
    'No,' said Moomintroll.
    He felt a push in the back, closed his eyes and started off. First his skis ran as far away as possible from each other. Then they came together again and mixed themselves up with his ski-sticks. On top of the mixture lay Moomintroll in a strange position. The guests cheered up.
    'Patience is very necessary,' said the Hemulen. 'Oops-a-daisy, and let's do it again.'
    'Legs feel a bit shaky,' muttered Moomintroll. This was almost worse than the lonely kind of winter. Even the sun, the so-much-longed-for, was shining straight down into the valley, looking at his humiliation.
    Now the bridge came rushing at him up the hill. Moomintroll stuck out one leg to save his balance. The other leg went skiing on. The guests gave a cheer and were beginning to find some fun in life again.
    Nothing was up any more, and nothing was down. Nothing existed but snow and misery and disaster everywhere.
    Then, finally, Moomintroll found himself hanging in the willow-bushes by the river. His tail was trailing in the icy water, and the water was filled with skis and sticks