Okay, so here's a story. Haha, some of the words I used in the first chapter were caught and corrected by someone who speaks Danish (Who was very helpful) so I'll be using some different words. Lol. Oops. I guess online translators are just not as trustworthy as I thought (probably shoulda figured that out when I was looking for Norwegian words).

Okay, Anyways, I own nothing, blah blah. Enjoy!

PS. If anyone else catches anything, please tell me and I will fix it in the next chapter.

It was nighttime in the village of Okse. Okse, a small village west of Copenhagen, was a peaceful village. Everyone was always so happy, and kind, especially towards travelers.

But, none suspected trouble. Tonight was a living hell for the villagers. Cabins were engulfed by yellow and red flames; people lay out in the streets in bloody, mangled mounds. The shrill cries and screams of terror from the women and children could be heard for kilometers. But no one came to save them. No one dared. They all knew who had caused this mess.

An earthquake jolted—

Mathias was thrown from his hammock onto the floor. Panting harshly, he struggled to get up, as his bones were sore. Albin beat every second for the whole duration of the cleaning of the waste room. And someone had just thrown Mathias to the floor.

"Get up. We have reached shore." Erik, Albin's first mate and oldest friend, helped the boy to his feet. Out of all the Vikings on this ship, he was the kindest to Mathias. But, that didn't mean he was nice.

Groaning and rubbing his sore back, Mathias pulled on his fur boots and grabbed his small hunting axe. "The captain wants you to go help the Norwegians' youngest member. He has been sick, and is still recovering. Now go."

Nodding, the teenager jumped from the side to the sand. Looking around, he saw someone around his age. He assumed that was who Erik was talking about; he went to go introduce himself. He walked up to the other boy, and cheerfully stuck out his hand.

The other boy glanced at it then up at Mathias. "Do I know you?"

The slight grin on Mathias' face dissolved. His hand dropped awkwardly to his side. "U-uh, no. That's kind of why I came over here to introduce myself. Also, because my superior told me you needed help..?" The boy just stared at him. So, Mathias continued. "Hi, I'm Mathias. Some people come Mat, though. I'm 16 and new to the Danish crew. May I ask you your name?"

Raising an eyebrow, the Norwegian thought it would be nice to have an acquaintance his own age. So he stuck out his hand, and Mathias shook it.

"My name is Halldor. But, some people call me Norway. Call me whatever. Just not Hall. I'm 16 as well."

"Norway?"

"Yeah. You see I'm the one responsible for carrying all the memories of the country's past and soul. There are others like me. So I can call you Mat, right?" Deep in thought, Mat didn't hear the question, or the continuous calling of his name. "MAT!" Mat startled, and he looked at Halldor in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Can I call you Mat?"

"You just did, didn't you?"

"Do you space out a lot?"

"Sometimes. "

"Okay. Let's walk up the beach to avoid all this noise so we can talk."

"Good idea." Mat followed Halldor up the beach.

"So, you're new, huh? No wonder I didn't recognize you."

"Yeah…" Mathias was having trouble focusing on the conversation. It kept going back to his nightmare of his home village. "But that never happened."

Now Norway was confused. "Okay." He stopped and turned Mat's head to look him in the eye. "This whole time you've been ignoring me, and now you're saying stuff that makes no sense. What is wrong with you?"

"I-I don't know. I got this dream in my head that won't go away."

"What kind of dream?"

"Long ago, the small village that I'm from burnt down. There were earthquakes, and little creature things. ..It started when I was seven. It never went away. In between I'd get these weird moments from history, and then I'd pass out." These symptoms sounded similar to what Norway had when he was a little boy. When he had figured out he was the host body for Norway, he went through a special ritual. But, hard as he may try, he can't remember what it was.

"Maybe your Denmark." Mathias looked confused. "How do you know that?"

"When I was younger, the same happened to me. Random flashbacks from my country's history followed by unconscious, and a single dream that would not go away. And you're a Dane. Makes perfect sense."

Mat sat down on a fallen tree thinking. They had wondered into the forest, not too far of course. The ships were still in sight, and they could hear the bellows from the other Vikings. If there was any trouble, the two teens could just yell.

"I guess-" Denmark was cut off with the hiss of an arrow. He knocked Norway out of the way just before it could hit him. Unfortunately, the arrow dug deep into his bicep.

He grunted in pain, but pulled out his axe anyways. "Mat! Your hurt!"

"Thanks for the obvious." He stood protectively in front of Halldor, his axe held out. He didn't know why. He saw the long sword at Halldor's hip. That is a much stronger and more useful weapon than his hunting axe that Albin had given him. Halldor would've said something, but he was too stunned by the fact that Mat had just saved him, even though they just met. Mat didn't even know that Halldor was the pride and jewel son of the great jarl Aaron. He just… did it.

"I guess I shouldn't shoot you any more. You look pretty young." A strange man in a grey-green cloak stepped out with a massive long bow in his left hand. He was very short, and all you could see was a rugged beard on his chin. Denmark knew that he spelt trouble.

"Now, may I ask who you are and what your business is here? I never seen those wolf ships before."

Halldor and Mathias looked at each other, and asked simultaneously, "Wolf ship?"

"You haven't answered my questions."

Mathias stepped slightly forward, although hesitant with the faint suspicion that the cloaked man can shoot fast as lightning. He lowered his axe showing that he means no harm, but kept in his hand in case he needed it.

He reconsidered the thought, and put down on the ground. Norway started talking. "Sir, I'm sorry, but-"

"Sir? That's a nice change for once. I almost have never been called sir in my life." The man interrupted.

"A-anyways. We have no idea where we are. We were on a voyage to Sweden-"

"But, we are not in Sweden. Looks more like-"

"Shut up. We were on a voyage to Sweden, but ended here, losing all sense of direction when we entered these unfamiliar waters."

"Which is weird, because we have been everywhere in Scandinavia. Including England, Ireland, France, Germany." The two young Vikings took turns talking. But, Denmark wasn't helping. Norway turned to him. He blinked rapidly and asked, "You've been to France?"

"Yes, but I met this nasty blond perverted pedophile who kept trying to get in my pants. And Arthur Kirkland from England started fighting with him, and the Germans told us we needed to leave before we get in the middle of this. I've also been to that new place, Russia."

"How was that?"

"Very cold. I met Lithuania and Russia. Russia scared the crap out of me, but he's a good friend."

"I've met Russia, and his sister Ukraine. I like Ukraine, but not a fan of Russia." Halldor shivered at the thought of them, and Mathias just rolled his eyes. "Back to the present time. So you mind giving us your name?" The man glared daggers at the two. "You still haven't answered my second question. Who are you?" the cold near whisper told Mathias that the man was not happy. So, he braved up. "I'm Mathias. I am sixteen years old, and from a country known as Denmark. So, I'm Danish. Hence, my tall height." Halldor slapped his arm. "Ow. That's the arm with the arrow." Halldor took the arrow and yanked it out his arm. "Ow. That frikin hurt!"

"I'm Halldor, from a country called Norway. I'm the same age as him. Please excuse the Dane, he's had a hard time with his crew. He's new to being a Viking. That's what our warriors are called, Vikings. We are from a place known as Scandinavia."

The man stared some more. "Well, I suppose your not dangerous." The man pulled back his hood to reveal shaggy pepper and salt hair and hard dark eyes. "I am Ranger Halt. I am from the kingdom of Araluen. Where you are right now, is a place called Skandia. The warriors here are very similar to you, though it seems they aren't as… mannered as you."

"Wait till you meet my captain." Mat scowled, and unconsciously rubbed his back. "You alright?" Halt had asked. "Yeah. I'm just sore."

"May I meet your captain?"

Mathias thought hard. "If you want. He's not really fond of new people. Or me." With that, Denmark lead Halt to his captain. But, then a question popped into his mind. "By the way, what's a Ranger?"

Yeah. Like I said, horrible with naming places. (btw, I didn't name Skandia. John Flanagan did) Halt appears. And he is totally confused as to where and who Norway and Denmark are talking about. See ya next time! Peace!Hal