He remembered the sound of water.
Water, and the moaning of wood against steel. There were voices as well, though they were muddled and seemed far away. He couldn't see any of this. His eyes felt so heavy, it was much easier to keep them closed. He was laying on his back, and there was something warm and soft wrapped around him. It felt pleasant against his bare skin. Then a cold breeze blew across his face, and he felt a scowl form on his lips. He tried to press his face into his cover, but only succeeded in making it begin to unwind in his movents. He whined softly as it slid down his neck, exposing him to the frigid air.
"Shh."
He stopped squirming when he heard that voice. It seemed much closer than the others, and so much easier to hear. He felt a hand slip behind his head, supporting him, as the rest of the fabric was rewound around him. "Shh," the voice repeated, and a large hand brushed against his face. It was warm, so he reached out for it. His hands found large, sturdy fingers, and he gripped them, not wanting to let go.
"That's my boy." It seemed closer now; he could feel hot breath on his face, and a thumb brushing upagainst his scalp. "You're my boy." He tried to open his eyes, but they just wouldn't cooperate with him. He wanted to sleep now. Sleep, more than anything else. A tiny yawn forced it's way out of his mouth. Above him the voice chuckled. He let the voice rock him into slumber, along with the uneven rythem of the water.
"You're my boy. You're my Denmark."
Well, what do you think? This is a cliffhanger of sorts for the first chapter; it's going quite well. Reviews are most appreciated, but flames will be ignored, as always.