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He lost one that loved him, two that hated him and all his treasures.
The Princess was the Princess because she was beautiful and gracious and loving and all that knew her loved her. Her touch healed and her smiled wakened the dead of heart to life and joy once more. She was called Princess because her blush when you called her that was the sweetest thing you could ever hope to see in this swamp of sadness.
The Princess was one of those who loved him, even though Feckless knew it not. Feckless was, umm, well, Feckless. An idler and a dreamer. A lay-a-bout and a come-to-nothing. A nobody and of-no-account. Feckless knew this and hence never dreamed that one so special as the Princess would even notice him.
To be sure, it was hard not to notice Feckless. If somebody was so distracted by how the sun glinted in the Rag Hair trees, and so drove their boat into the Big Cheese's house so hard that it wobbled on its poles, it was sure to be Feckless. If the Big Cheese was roaring curses on the fool that clouted him with an oar as they passed in a narrow channel. You needn't ask who. It was Feckless.
If somebody came gibbering and screaming about a Crock approaching the village, you knew that if it was Feckless, his imagined Crock would turn out to be just an old log or a mat of reeds.
Everyone knew Feckless and everyone, except Princess, shouted his name daily. His mother made the Tinkle woods ring with her exasperation. She loved him, but was driven to dithering by his dreaminess and foolishness. No task she set him came to completion and even if it did it needed redoing.
Now remember Children, at this time we had no alliance with the Hippigs. We were loosing to the endless hunt of the Crocks and the Hippigs were all but extinct.
One day his mother asked him to bring home some tangle reeds so that she might weave them into new sleeping mats. Alas, he found a reed that whistled in the wind and spent all day trying to make a flute that whistled like that.
His mother was so cross that the next day she went out to the tangle reed beds. Alas, there deep under the tangle reed beds lay the biggest and slyest Crock ever to have spawned in the mud of this sorry Planet.
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