A moose named Sven travels the sea in search for resources.
A village of magic-using moose in the far north, starved of natural resources, in a desperate attempt of survival travels to Equestria to raid it's inhabitants. Things obviously didn't go according to plan. This is the story of Sven, formerly the village guard. Sven, a blue-eyed, white-coated guard, is among them.
Sven drew his sword thinking he heard something. The spiked log wall behind him creaked from the blizzard. The torches were running out. The last few woodpiles were used for a ship. This was the last night on their homeland. The other clans were busy fighting with each other.
Asgaut, Bodil, and a few others died recently.
The other guard, Asbjorn, was on the other side of the entrance, he had been the strongest fighter of them all, his left antler had been broken off by a hydra, he was the only one to fight one and live, or so the myth goes.
Sven never had much in common with his folk. He was only put on guard to hold the other clans off.
His people had used their resources too sparingly. They were all sick, weak from starvation, or dead.
Asbjorn stared at Sven, Sven had his weapon out for no reason. The burly moose laughed to himself.
"Sven, don't draw your sword to the wind. It isn't going to do more than bite you."
The sun started to rise. The other folk of the village, Myrr, woke up and trotted outside the walls. An elderly moose fell over into the snow. One next to her touched her with a hoof and shook his head.
The rest got into the small, hastily-made ship. Asbjorn pulled the makeshift anchor up. The ship took off, leaving Myrr behind.
Their weapons, tools, and what little food they had left were packed into the corner.
The elders and calves rested in a small room atop the deck. The rest had to stay on deck.
The snow had to be cleared off the ship every hour. The blizzard obstructed the horizon from view. The snow covered their manes, tails, and coats.
Sven was certain his sword had frozen inside the sheath, which in turn had frozen onto the belt.
Asbjorn somehow wasn't cold, or at least didn't show it.
Leaks had to be stopped every few minutes. Falling into the waters meant death.
A large wave came crashing over the ship. a few of Sven's folk were swept into the sea.
"Canute, Egil, and Hafgrim have fallen to the ocean. How many more until the earth is sated?" Bodolf said.
Someone entered the elder's room. Some calves had died, the strongest carried them out of the room, and cast them out into the sea with a piece of cloth; what culture they had.
The waters had become warmer, the sun was almost visible. The snow had died into rain.
It may be a mockery by the gods, but they also could be near land.
Some elders had died. They cast them away as well.
Asbjorn sat before the mast, he had an expression he never had before. One deprived of hope. Was the greatest warrior, a living legend, hopeless and devoid of glory?
The sun set. A wave cast over the deck. It carried Sven backward forcefully. It threw him into the main mast, knocking him unconscious.
Asbjorn touched his hoof. Sven seemed to be breathing. He was alive. But for how long?
The days moved by, then months, until there were but nine moose left.
"Sven. Please... Wake up." Asbjorn begged.
The ship hit land. The Equestrian guard was waiting for them. Asbjorne the mighty, Brandr the clever, Einar the wise, Gunnhilld the terrible, Halldor the dexterous, Halvden the firebrand, Leif the Eldest, Odvar the survivor, and Olav the resourceful, all galloped to battle, and were struck down, save for Asbjorne. He and Sven were taken to Canterlot for questioning.
Sven awoke in a cell. A tall alicorn and a few guards trotted down to his cell.
"The other one died." A guard said to her.
Sven dashed to the door.
"What do you want from me?" Sven asked.
"Hvad er det du vil have?" The mythical alicorn asked.
"He doesn't seem to speak equestrian. Send for somepony who can speak the language." She said in a strange language.
After a few hours, the guards were back with a cyan-coated stallion.
"Hello. Princess Celestia wants to know why you attacked us." He explained in Sven's language.
"I demand to know what you've done with my people." Sven retorted, shaking the door.
"Did we get a brace on his antlers?" Celestia asked, a guard responded positively.
The stallion looked confused. "The crew was all dead except for you."
"I refuse to belive that Asbjorn has died."
"Was that the other one?" The stallion asked Celestia. She nodded.
"He died in his bed in a cell." He responded.
Sven shook his head. The worst way for a resident of Myrr to fall was to die bedridden.
"I-I have nothing to say. Do what you will with me."
Sven trotted to his bed. He sat there with his hooves on his head.
The cell door opened.
Guards took him by the legs.
Sven did not fight back.
He was placed in front of a crowd. Prior, they had taught him Equestrian.
He couldn't see.
Celestia stood behind a podium.
"We're gathered here today, for a consensus on what to do with a member of an attempted raiding party. You must decide his fate."
"Walk him up to his podium."
He was guided to a platform. A guard told him to speak. He would try.
"For you might not know me, my name is Sven. My people had used up our resources, we were all starving. We had to either do something rash, or we could perish in the harsh snow. We left our homeland to unknown waters, many died. I did not witness most of my people's fate I hadn't witness. Our greatest warrior, Asbjorn, died in one of your prisons. I was the only survivor. My defense may not convince you, but it is what I have left. I will not fight what your will is. It is not my nature." He couldn't see, but he didn't mind. He was warm. If he died, it would be his people's end.