Coming Home edit

Stoick the Vast kissed his wife and headed for the docks. He needed to inspect the fishing fleet this morning and regretted leaving Haddock house and his lovely Valka. She was married to him for seven months now and he still found that a miracle. She was spirited and witty, her thoughts moved like quicksilver, and he didn’t deserve her. Here he was, though, the ring on his finger a constant reminder of his good fortune in having her.

Stoick knew Valka was young for her age and domestic arts were not her strength; she kept working to improve on that, but her mother hadn’t been skilled at some of those tasks, and her deficiencies were understandable. He would never hurt her feelings. His wife was seven years younger than he, at sixteen, and a sensitive lass. His job was to protect her as well as Berk.


***
After assessing the boats and hearing suggestions on repairs and replacing the boats, Stoick accepted the suggestion of fresh cod for dinner and returned home, bearing two fourteen inch fish. He knew Valka would ruin it, but the longer he held off telling her she couldn’t cook, the happier they’d all be. Stoick wanted that cod—it was the best of the catch—and he would cook it tonight. All Valka needed to do was some marketing.

Valka was behind the house splitting kindling, and Stoick watched her as he approached from behind, admiring her shape and the way she moved. Ah, those legs—looking at them made him smile; she was tall and slender and...cursing the axe with vigor. He erupted in laughter and came toward her, eyes crinkled in mirth. The Chieftess wore dirt and leaf muck on her clothes, and she’d acquired several fresh scratches on her arms. The hair escaping her braid had snagged a bit of twig, and he wondered who taught her the colorful threats she was using.

“Wife.” She looked at him, defiant and abashed at being caught in this undignified a position. She was so childlike and he worked to let her know he didn’t laugh at her. “I’m home for the day. Would you like some help with that?”
***
My talent with food is, well...”

“Nonexistent?” Stoick said it without thinking, and the horror of the statement rose in Him. He’d criticized her cooking. So far, they ate in the Meade hall frequently and he had some proficiency with preparing meals, so he’d avoided saying anything negative about her kitchen skills. His tender hearted Valka would be pained to hear this coming from him. He scanned the village, searching for a distraction. He couldn’t bear to look at her.

***

“You cannot ignore this question, husband. Spit it out.” She had backed him against his massive chair; her tone was sharp, and Stoick yielded.

“Yes, your cooking is terrible, m’dear.” Her eyes narrowed and he winced, waiting for the outburst.

First she snickered, then snorted. He stared at her, astonished, as she whooped with uncontrolled laughter, bent over and leaning on the table for support. He began to chuckle, unsure what she was laughing at, but grateful to be alive. Valka had tears in her eyes, and after several minutes she stood upright, able to speak again.

***

Stoick was still trying to assimilate all that had happened in the past few minutes, and stared at his wife, open-mouthed. The Valka who demanded an answer, threatened him with an axe and backed him into a chair was a new person to the one he thought she was. She intimidated him and laughed at him, gasping for air when she did. Then she told him about the wagers, and the earthy nature of them. He’d been aware the tribe bet on anything, but he’d been so enamored of her, the notion of what the wagers on their wedding and marriage were escaped him. He knew of secret wagering, and nowhere in his mind did he expect it would be about him. He focused so much on the tribe, it didn’t occur to him they might focus back.

He worried Valka might suffer from criticism from him and the tribe. He didn’t want her to regret any lack she might possess. He’d wanted her since she was thirteen and paid additional time with her. Her parents were prudent and waited for him to decide, not realizing he already had. A year later, he offered for her and her family accepted; a few months later he became Chief.

He had been required to avoid her until the marriage, and saw her from a distance or in the company of her parents. Everything he noted, all that he gleaned, was from those limited moments. Being Heir and then Chief kept him busy, and he never considered there might be more than what he saw. What he saw was beautiful and perfect and completely Valka and she was the girl of his dreams.

There was no way he wanted to hurt her, and all the while, she’d held out on him. She knew her cooking was awful and he believed her ignorant. She made beautiful garments and her embroidery was amazing, and anyone he questioning his decision heard him praise her abilities with thread and fabric. They had been excuses; he wanted Valka and that had been enough to wed her. The fourteen-year-old he offered for had never been a woman to him, and now he was discovering just how little he knew about his wife.

***

Stoick wasn’t sure how to take this. Valka did this deliberately, but surely was trying to please him. She was so young, she wouldn’t know how much those things could excite him. It was surely ignorance on her part.


“I know you like many of the things I do for you.” She slid off the table and half-turned her torso toward him; a suspicion blossomed in Stoick as he observed his bride. How much of her behavior for him was meant to be seductive? Surely she had some idea how difficult she made it for him. Many times had she soothed him when he was tense, been caring and thoughtful and drawn close to comfort him. He wound up with a warm armful of wife and somehow they found an opportunity to replace the fretting with intimacy. Stoick worried about that too, afraid she’d feel unable to refuse him. When the tug on his hands pulled him toward her, and he would let the worry sit and enjoy his lass. Was there nothing to worry over? Had he misread things that badly? He probed for answers.

“What things are they, m’dear?”

“Can you not tell me what they are? You were with me for all of them.” She cocked her head and watched him consider the question. Stoick attempted a reply.

“You rubbed my shoulders.”

“Yes, and your back.”

“You stood on tiptoes to kiss me.”

“Indeed I did.”

“My beard—you combed and braided it.”

“It’s a fine, handsome beard; I couldn’t resist touching it.” She was bold, and he moved into deeper waters.

“You asked me to brush your hair, one time.”

“Mmm. It was delightful. You ought to do that more often.” She gave a catlike grin.

“You hand fed me almond cake.”

“I did.”

“All those times you sat in my lap, I noticed you...squirmed.”

“I knew by doing that I’d get you to notice; I felt your attention on me, too.”

“Valka!” She laughed uproariously, and Stoick spluttered. “You drove me to distraction, woman. I thought my dear, sweet lass would never be so cruel, and now I discover you’ve been tormenting me for months! What am I to do with you, wife?” He gave a belly laugh. “You are a deceitful, conniving, temptress who took no mercy on me. I married a scheming child of Loki, who held out on me all this time.”

She bowed her head and clasped her hands in front of her. In a low voice, she said, “Yes, husband. I was wrong to trick you. I am sorry, Stoick.”

“Bah. Look at me and say that, if you can.” She raised her eyes to meet his, solemn and regretful.

“I do apologize, and hope...,” she hesitated.

“Give it up and laugh, m’dear. Thor knows I’m not believing this.” She read his look and giggled, knowing he wasn’t upset with her. She sat on the chair arm, and neither of them spoke. It was a good silence and refreshing, a medicine he rarely enjoyed; this was the first time he and Valka had shared such a moment. He reached over and rubbed small circles on her shoulder with his thumb, satisfied to be with her at rest. So many of his ideas about her were mistaken. He needed to tell her.

“I was an idiot.”

“How were you an idiot?”

“I thought you were frail and sensitive, a demure lass who couldn’t bear criticism. I thought you were unprepared to be a wife and tried to spare you from everything. I had no idea I’d married a woman, not a girl.”

“Are you glad to know that?”

“Yes, I am.” The words came out before he thought about them. “I didn’t want you hurt or damaged, and I carried more burden to save you from it. I will always carry more; I cannot do otherwise, but I know you won’t break.” Valka stayed quiet, allowing him to speak at his own pace.

“I thought it was affection.”

“It was affection.”

“Aye, it was. Still, it meant more.” After several breaths, he asked, “How long?”

“I don’t understand you.” She turned her head away.

“Answer the question; I know you understand me. You’re a poor liar.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve been wanting to please you for a long time, husband, I have. You...I thought we would have more time together during our honey month, but you had duties to perform. You’re the Chief, so I didn’t say anything.” Her speech was halting. “Then you didn’t try to make up all the time we were apart. I thought you didn’t want me, that you had regrets.” Valka hesitated, but Stoick could wait. “One day my mother remarked that if you protected the tribe half as well as you did me, Berk would be the safest island in the archipelago, dragon raids or not. I thought you didn’t like me, but you were protecting me instead. You never became impatient and praised me whenever you could, but when you never told me my cooking was awful, then I knew.” She twisted her ring. “You were sheltering me from the entire tribe, including yourself. I didn’t want that. I wanted my husband back, and,” she eyed him, “I planned to get him.”

Stoick had no words. Her remarkable speech jarred him and he remained still, pondering all she said. She became fidgety; he cupped her shoulder and drew his wife into his chest. He wondered how to respond, and, after a while, he spoke.

“How long?”

“Since the third month of our marriage. I planned to wait until nine months had passed, and if nothing had changed, I’d try another strategy.”

“All the time I wanted to protect you, I hurt you.” Stoick clasped her hands in his. In a voice filled with regret, Stoick said, “M’dear, I am sorry, so sorry for all of it.”

“It’s all right. I’m glad you found out. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret from you.”

“True. But ‘tis over. We’re solid and sound again.”








“True. You still deceived me, woman.” He growled a little. “Tonight, I’m staying here to keep an eye on my devious wife. You are a risk to all of Berk; I won’t have you spreading your rebellious notions within the tribe. I expect you to please your husband and Chief. You may begin,” he leered at her, “by changing into a shorter skirt. I enjoy your legs.”

§ § §

Stoick the Vast kissed his wife and headed for the docks. He needed to inspect the fishing fleet this morning and regretted leaving Haddock house and his lovely Valka. She was married to him for seven months now and he still found that a miracle. She was spirited and witty, her thoughts moved like quicksilver, and he didn’t deserve her. Here he was, though, the ring on his finger a constant reminder of his good fortune in having her.

When he began looking at the girls on Berk, she caught his attention. Only twelve then, but old enough to marry. When she became thirteen, Stoick walked a thin line between learning about her and avoiding her. Those betrothed were expected to keep their distance from one another, and while he hadn’t offered for her, he wanted her. It was a caution and a torment, walking by her family’s table in the Meade hall, and stopping to greet her parents. He permitted himself a greeting or a rare remark on her staff skills, but never anything more personal. He watched her though, using routes that took him past her house and glancing through the village to spot his graceful girl.

When she reached fourteen, he spoke with her parents and became betrothed. Gobber laughed at him, the twenty-one year old Heir to Berk trembling before her parents, hoping they’d agree to the marriage. He became Chief shortly after, and the next year they married.



Stoick knew Valka was young for her age and domestic arts were not her strength; she kept working to improve on that, but her mother hadn’t been skilled at some of those tasks, and her deficiencies were understandable. He would never hurt her feelings. His wife was seven years younger than he, at sixteen, and a sensitive lass. His job was to protect her as well as Berk.

He worried Valka might suffer from criticism from him and the tribe. He didn’t want her to regret any lack she might possess. He’d wanted her since she was thirteen and paid additional time with her. Her parents were prudent and waited for him to decide, not realizing he already had. A year later, he offered for her and her family accepted; a few months later he became Chief.

He had been required to avoid her until the marriage, and saw her from a distance or in the company of her parents. Everything he noted, all that he gleaned, was from those limited moments. Being Heir and then Chief kept him busy, and he never considered there might be more than what he saw. What he saw was beautiful and perfect and completely Valka and she was the girl of his dreams.

There was no way he wanted to hurt her, and all the while, she’d held out on him. She knew her cooking was awful and he believed her ignorant. She made beautiful garments and her embroidery was amazing, and anyone he questioning his decision heard him praise her abilities with thread and fabric. They had been excuses; he wanted Valka and that had been enough to wed her. The fourteen-year-old he offered for had never been a woman to him, and now he was discovering just how little he knew about his wife.



“I was an idiot.”

“How were you an idiot?”

“I thought you were frail and sensitive, a demure lass who couldn’t bear criticism. I thought you were unprepared to be a wife and tried to spare you from everything. I had no idea I’d married a woman, not a girl.”

“Are you glad to know that?”

“Yes, I am.” The words came out before he thought about them. “I didn’t want you hurt or damaged, and I carried more burden to save you from it. I will always carry more; I cannot do otherwise, but I know you won’t break under more load.” Valka stayed quiet, allowing him to speak at his own pace.