"Why do we have to be the Swedes?" five-year-old Jon asked his big brother Halvor Lamefoot out in the fields of Homme farm.

"Because we say so," said the older boy.

Halvor Lamefoot's friend from Brekke nodded at the decree. "It was our idea to play war," Sveinung said.

"And we chose to be the Russians," added ten-year-old Bjørgulv of Dalen.

Jon stomped away with Mundi Dalen, a friend his own age, kicking at stones and roots.

"At least they didn't make us be the Finns," Mundi said. He shouldered his birch-branch rifle and marched through the newly-scythed hayfield. "They don't even get to fight."

"Where did they go, anyway?" Jon asked.

"Over in the patch of wildflowers." Mundi pointed to the edge of the field where the unsuspecting Finns – Jon's sisters, and Birgit from Brekke – were making daisy chains.

The ten- and eleven-year-old boys whooped and charged across the field. "Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"they shouted, shooting at Jon and Mundi. "We're taking Finnland, and you can't stop us!"

Birgit shrieked as her older brother swooped her up and carried her away, but Jon's two big sisters slapped at the other boys until they left them alone and ran off after Sveinung.

Mundi laughed until he dropped his rifle. "The Finns fought, after all!"

"Russia only got part of Finnland!" Jon yelled after the older boys. He ran up to his sisters. "You still belong to Sweden!"

"Bring Birgit back," the Homme girls demanded.

"We didn't take her. Russia did."

"Stupid boys' games." His sisters gathered their garlands and went back uphill to the courtyard.

"What do we do now?" Mundi asked.

Jon knit his brows and tried to remember the war plans. "Now we have to go attack Norway."

"Why?"

"Because that's what happened for real. We Swedes get mad because we lost Finnland, so we go try to make Norway part of Sweden."

"Who's Norway?"

"They are." Jon pointed at Halvor Lamefoot and his friends circling around the lower end of the hayfield.

"I thought they were Russia."

"Now they're Norway, and we gotta go fight them."

"Bang, bang, bang!" yelled Mundi as he ran across the stubble toward the older boys. "I got you!"

"No, you didn't!" shouted Halvor Lamefoot. "We're the fighting Norse! No one takes our land from us!"

Sveinung leaped up from ambush and tackled both five-year-olds. "We win! Go home, you swindling Swedes, and don't you dare come back!"

Jon wriggled free, jumped up with a clod of dirt in each hand, and lobbed them at Halvor Lamefoot. "Now I'm the British fleet, and you're King Frederik in Copenhagen! Boom, boom!"

"That didn't come after Russia and Sweden, you slow-wit, that came before." Halvor Lamefoot pounced on Jon and turned him upside-down.

Mundi's big sister Gunnhild came to the rescue. "For all we know, it's still going on. Stop tormenting the little ones, you scoundrels, and come in to dinner. Where's Birgit?"

Sveinung grinned. "We left her sitting on a branch in the apple tree."

Gunnhild waved her hands at him. "Go get her down, or no potatoes for you."

Little Mundi took her hand. "When will the real fighting stop, Gunna?"

The fifteen-year-old shook her head. "Not until Napoleon wins or loses. Just be glad King Frederik let Norway split off from Denmark in the meantime. We don't have to fight, and Britain lets us keep shipping so the lowlanders don't starve. Too bad we can't stay independent after all the fighting is done."

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BEHIND THE SCENES

In 1808 Frederik VI came to the throne as king of Denmark and Norway.