There was something almost otherworldly elegant about the way Norway could move.
At first glance it seemed to be an elegance only a woman could posses.
However, if you looked closer there was a strength and force behind every movement that discouraged this initial belief.

Flexible? Check
Elegant? Check
Fast? Check
Silent? Check

All in all there was something beautiful about his movements.

Mesmerizing.

Denmark often found it near impossible to tear his eyes away from him. It often got him in trouble, yet it never deterred him the slightest.
It was perfectly clear to the Dane that Norway was as beautiful and dangerous as his country's wilderness.

From the quiet little stream flowing gently down a sun-filled marshland to steep and jagged mountain tops ending in deep cliffs.

There was evidence of it all in almost every movement.

But the beauty never ceased to be breathtaking.

One time he'd been privileged enough to watch Norway dance.

No.

Dance was the wrong word.

Norway could dance very well. Just like any other nation he knew many dances by heart, perfectly capable of executing each movement as easily as breathing. Classic ballroom, waltz or traditional folk dances with high kicks and jumps was a well known speciality of his. While he did not particularly care to show these to anyone, he'd still do it at the odd rare occasion or if enough people bought him drinks at the bar.
After all, nothing seemed to impress more people than a handsome 'young' man kicking a hat of the top of a coat rack with ease.

But Norway's true talent and beauty only showed though when he thought no one else was watching.

"I'm going for a midnight stroll." he'd announce at random before quickly adding "Alone." with a stern glare in the Dane's direction. And usually, Denmark respected this wish. After all – an angry Norway was not a very good thing to be around at all.

Then one night, Denmark decided to follow. It wasn't to infringe on the Nordic's privacy or even to try and find something to tease him about.

No.
All Denmark wished to know was why Norway seemed to 'glow' when he returned from these walks. Why the usually stoic and cold Norseman suddenly seemed to smile ever so slightly more and laugh just a little bit easier.

So he followed.

Quiet like a cat's shadow he trailed after Norway through barren and swampy marshlands to the thick and dark forest.

Even as the trees grew thicker and thicker around him and the wind seemed to still till the air hung around him like a thick carpet – Denmark trudged onwards, refusing to give up once he'd made up his mind.

Spotting a clearing up ahead he slowed down, creeping towards it on all fours – lest should he be spotted.

Once he reached the outer edges he positioned himself behind (and partly inside) some thick bushes.
He could see the entire clearing form this position – and Norway standing in the middle of it all.

For what seemed like hours to the Dane; Norway simply stood motionless in the middle of the large natural circle.

But then he started to move.

Slowly and almost unnoticeable at first, before rapidly building up to more speed and movements.
As Denmark fixated his eyes upon Norway he hardly had the brainpower to realise music seemed to come from nowhere – gradually growing louder and louder.

What he did notice was the little glowing lights that seeped through the trees and joined Norway in the clearing.

As both nation and lights whisked past Denmark in a heated dance, he caught a glimpse of one of the glowing balls of light up close.

Faeries.

Millions of little glowing faeries.

They illuminating the grass till it glowed and as the nigh time fog started to set in, the little lights fluttering about was truly a sight to behold.

Not that Denmark cared about such things. He was far too busy staring at Norway.

Norway who moved through the dew-wet grass barefoot, with the elegance of a ballerina, and the sure-footedness of a tight-rope-walker.
Illuminated fog and fairy lights swirling around and with him as he pirouetted, jumped and almost cartwheeled around the clearing.

Denmark knew Norway was rather flexible – but this was breathtaking.

He had to clasp his hands over his mouth as some more human-esque figures joined the heated frenzy.
Personally he'd not seen such beings for centuries. However; he knew very well what they where.

Huldras and forest spirits.
Human in appearance except for some minor details. A tail here or a pair of wings there. A glowing tint to some impossible green or blue eyes – all captivating beautiful on their own.

Eagerly with song and laughter they joined Norway in their mystical and magical dance.

As if they where nothing but air (and perhaps that was what they where – Denmark didn't know) Norway spun them around, lifted them up and tossed them up into the air – before catching them and setting them down again like it was nothing.

The huldre-folk seemed to float on air, as much on their toes as the most seasoned ballet dancer. Yet Norway was never far behind. Never out of line, never out of step.
He lead them all on in the heated dance.

Denmark had to rub his eyes when Norway spun one tailed-woman around so quickly her long blonde hair seemed to flow like a golden river in the light of the faeries – before she was bent backwards and into a low dip. From his position behind the bushes it almost seemed like nation and hulder where about to kiss.

However, before Denmark could really consider what had happened Norway puled the huldra back up and continued moving gracefully though the clearing.

Denmark bit his thumb hard as he watched with hawk-eyes one of the forest spirit almost rip Norway's shirt off.
However, as Norway continued to dance – seemingly uncaring about being shirtless in the midst of fog and lights – Denmark decided to simply enjoy the sight.

He could have watched the show for the rest of his life and never tire of it.
However; it could not last forever.

The music became louder as the dance seemed to reach it's final climax.
The Danish nation felt rather dizzy as he watched Norway pirouette around and around until as easily as one would snuff out the flame of a candle – Norway fall to his knees. Every light disappearing the second his knees hit the ground. Once again the forest seemed to be plunged into darkness.

Denmark swallowed a gasp. Glancing worriedly around he noticed that there was only himself and Norway left in the forest. The colourful light show was gone.
The full moon above the only light left to illuminate the clearing once again.

While Norway shakily stood up again, Denmark crawled out from behind his hiding place and hid behind some taller trees. Somehow; he needed to get home before Norway.

As Norway went to find his shoes, socks and shirt – Denmark set off back to Norway's house at great speed.
Dodging low branches and mossy rocks he only barely made it in the door and into the guest bedroom before he heard the front door slam and Norway slowly walk up the stairs – the familiar thump-thump rhythm unmistakable and easily distinguishable from any of the other nations Denmark knew.

Funny that really. Even if they no longer shared a house, he could still recognise everyone of his 'family' by the sound of their footsteps alone.

Not until he heard Norway's bedroom door close did Denmark dare to relax. Removing and stowing away his muddy clothes in his bag he tried to go to sleep. It did not come easily.

The sandman seemed to evade him this night – instead he was haunted by the memory of Norway dancing in the forest. Closing his eyes only made the memory clearer.

So when daylight broke through his curtains it was a sleepless and tired Dane who stumbled down the stair and into the kitchen.

Norway was already awake, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.
Denmark helped himself to the largest mug he could find and emptied almost half the pot of lukewarm coffee in mere minutes.

"You all right?" Norway finally asked, a hint of worry in his enquiry.

Denmark wanted to wave his hands, jump up and down and explain how simply breathtaking the show had been last night. He wanted to drag Norway back out there, beg the blonde nation to once again dance with the million little glowing fairies.

However, Norway had been keeping this secret from them all for...well, Denmark guessed only the Gods would know how long Norway had done this.
And frankly he didn't think admitting he had bore witness to such perfection would go down well with Norway at all.

Nodding tiredly he flashed his northern neighbour a large grin.

"I'm absolutely fantastic, thanks. Just had a very wonderful dream is all..." a dreamy far away look in his eyes earned him a roll of the eyes and a muttered 'idiot' from Norway.
Denmark didn't care.

It was no lie.

The memory alone would forever make him grin a little wider and laugh a little louder.
And every night he'd close his eyes and re-live the scenes as best he could.

Hoping.

Wishing for an opportunity to once again bare witness to Norway's elegance and breathtaking performance.

A.N: Let's be honest here: I can't dance. I have no rhythm what so ever! So trying to describe dancing terms and stuff? Not my forte I'm afraid. Got some help from some lovely anon(s) on Tumblr with ballet stuff – but it still wasn't easy to incorporate it like I wanted it to be. Many apologies.
Gods know where this story came from. Most likely: Combo of pretty artwork, PM's with AlmightyLudmilla, a lot of odd music and some very strong cold & flu tablets.