Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a king, a queen and their children.
How many children did they have? Most of their subjects would say they've got three happy, healthy children, because that's all they can see of the princes and princess. But under the town bridge, a troll whispers, 'Four.'
The fourth child, the whispers say, is slow-witted, and thus, locked away from prying eyes in a land far, far away, where the queen makes secret visits each year.
So, the years passed. The little kingdom prospered and the royal children grew up, intelligent and articulate. The princes wed and royal grandchildren were born. Alas, the elder prince's consort did not see her children grow up. She was dead, weeks after her second child was born.
'Heart trouble so young!', the people sighed and shook their heads.
But the troll, the troll was mumbling in its sleep. 'A queenly order,' it muttered. 'Death for the birth of a white child ...'
But the people went on with their lives and soon forgot.
The crown prince became the king after his father grew old, but the people still called the old man 'King'.
One day ...
Ding Dong! The Queen is dead!
Thousands flocked to the wake, and after that, they lined the streets as a great cortege rolled down the streets accompanied by a full cavalry. They wept and described her as the Kind and Great Mother of the Kingdom. The King, too, wept, and presented her with one last flower as the crowd looked on at the end of the Kingdom's Great Romance.
That night, as darkness fell, some peasants retired to bed with a heaviness in their hearts. Others fell asleep uncaring, and yet others gathered under the town bridge, laughed and drank a toast.
