Valka’s Work

Concept Only

“Who told you about the hidden wagering?”

“Why, Gobber did. It was simple enough, Stoick. There are always secret wagers and our wedding provided ample opportunities for them. I threatened Gobber with a dinner invitation for a meal made entirely by me, and he surrendered. It’s not difficult to get him to capitulate; you just need the right lever.”

“You knew about the cooking, that it was inadequate?” She nodded. Stoick spent months trying to spare her, and she’d known. She nodded. Emboldened, he remarked, “The time you prepared spikefish, it tasted awful, m’dear.” Valka looked guilty at the remark.

“I am sorry about the spikefish, husband; it’s the dish I’m worst at, and normally I wouldn’t have made it.” She glanced down, fidgeting. “I had planned to save you from that, especially as you’d been so patient. But my mother convinced me to fix it for you, and offered me some spices to use. I think,” she mumbled, “she wanted to win the bet.”

Stoick didn’t know what spices his mother-in-law had contributed, but his stomach had troubled him for three days after that, and none of Valka’s meals had done that before. That spikefish was the reason he began roasting any fish they ate. Valka’s mother deliberately made him sick, and he glimpsed how important the wagers had become to the tribe. Valka was brave and put up a good front, but he could see the hurt in her eyes as she told him. Her own mother tricked them both to win, and his wife had suffered along with his stomach. He still hadn’t criticized her, and that wounded her further.

She was distressed and Stoick realized she wasn’t afraid to admit failure; she simply didn’t want to fail him. He had known he would be the Chief and was raised to the position. Valka had no preparation for her role, and struggled with being a worthy wife and a good Chieftess, with no training and minimal experience. He didn’t care a whit about that, but she’d been made to feel incapable. Valka was afraid and he despised it.