HOW A STORY COMES TO BE

"Once upon a time, there was a countess whose spouse was killed and whose estate was burned in the wars, so she fled into the woods with her infant girl child..."
Thus began a story that I stumbled across, by chance, in this collection: http://archive.org/details/lostlegendsofnur00clariala
"Hush-a-bye-baby", from The Lost Legends of the Nursery Songs, by another unsung Victorian story writer, Mary Senior Clark.

Perchance inspired by Swinborne's epic love story (http://archive.org/details/gustavusadolphus00swinrich), I decided to set my version of the story in the Rhineland during the Thirty Years' War. So, I imagined those two young damsels under attack from the Catholic League. "The Croatians are coming!", thus starts their dramatic calvary. Luckily, the Protestants save the shire: a double "Fourth Story plot" ensues, and so does a twofold wedding. I am not afraid of using Chekhov's Law ("If there is a loaded gun on stage, it is meant to be fired during the play"): Caroline's daughter is carried away by the stream, while Hildegard's son Konrad is abducted by the enemy, then raised by an Austrian officer and his wife.
A thirteen-year time skip ensues, and Act Two, with Fourth Story and Ovidian (mainly from the Salmacis myth, of which this story is a retelling) influences, can begin:
"Thirteen years had elapsed since then. On a sunny spring day, a good-looking young man, dressed in a sky blue doublet and soldier's boots, was seen marching along the east bank of the Rhine, towards the chateau that could be seen in the distance, amidst blossoming fruit-trees. The sun burned his rosy cheeks. His hair was strawberry-blond, long and straight, and he was chanting an old ballad about the exploits of Gustavus Adolphus.
He (our male protagonist) was a professional soldier, born and raised in camp..."
Upon his arrival, he recognizes both the lady of the land and her equally widowed sister. Stripping his left sleeve and showing a scar, they recognize him as Konrad, the long lost only son of one of them and nephew of the other:
"Both the colonel's widow and the countess burst into tears, and they embraced the hired soldier, who burst into tears himself. He didn't expect to finally find a home, his mother, and easier life".
"Now, the countess and her estate finally had an heir: the young stranger. Thus, she had her bedchamber prepared for him. That night, after having supped with his real family, Konrad slept incredibly well and comfortably."
Having exchanged the flint-and-steel couch of war for a soft bed of eider-down, the young heir starts exploring his lands with the court huntsman, a veteran of the great conflict.
"Though the scarred veteran found it hard to agree with the restless young newcomer, both often conversed merrily about commanders and confrontations."
Weeks later, on Midsummer Day, Konrad has the experience of his lifetime:
"The hot June sun bleached his and Volker's plumed hats. The young aristocrat's downy cheeks were obviously glowing red, and his parched throat did obviously hurt. He took leave of Volker to search for a spring that he had previously seen and heard in the woods.
At last, a thirsty and exhausted Konrad found the spring he sought, and he climbed off his steed at the pond. It was blank as a mirror and cool as a breeze. It tasted sweet, as if sweetened with honey, and spearmint grew in impressive quantities around the pond. Down his throat the blessed liquid surged, as if the stream were running inside the young nobleman.
At the same time, he heard a merry girl's laughter. That couldn't be running water: he recognized that sound as a laughing human girl... or maybe was it a nixie? Konrad knew the local legends about nixies, beautiful freshwater nymphs who lured innocent mortals into their domains, to condemn those unfortunates. And he did believe in those legends, like most people did in the seventeenth century.
When he lifted his head, he saw a young girl with long, fire-red tresses decked with a lily-pad, and large blue-green eyes that joyously glittered. Although she was barefoot and clad in a short green dress, made of woven reeds and cattails, she was quite beautiful. Around her neck, she wore a long golden chain, and a little silver cross hung on her petite breasts. Was she a human or not?
Konrad tried to control himself, but his heart raced in his chest, and he sat by the spring as if he were frozen. The young nobleman couldn't take his eyes off such a modest beauty. He could return later to the chateau. Volker, his aunt, and his mother could wait.
The redhead blushed heavily as well. She too felt her heart wanting to burst her chest. She had seen many humans, peasant women, before... but never a young aristocrat. It was something she had never seen before. And he was so dashing! She had certainly seen black grouse lekking, dragonflies mating, frogs croaking, and stags duelling for the does' favour, every springtime. But she didn't believe that humans were as capable of loving as other animal species. Until the Midsummer Day when she first met Konrad.
He introduced himself as the heir to the estate, and he told her the story of his life. Raised in the wild as she was, she was excedeeingly curious about everything the nobleman had to tell, and she constantly interrupted his tale with questions about the military and about the rulers Konrad had served.
The redhead's name was Elfhilde. She lived with her mother, a nixie, in a cave by the spring. She was seldom alone: the frogs, the songbirds, and the dragonflies of the pond were her best friends and playmates, and she had named all of her animal friends. Konrad had so much to learn from her!"
At dusk, the young heir has to get back home, and the nixie is introduced: "She was incredibly beautiful and pale, she had long platinum blond tresses, and her hands and feet were webbed. Her developed legs were covered in silver scales, not like those of a fish but more like those of a serpent. Even her green eyes reminded of an adder's eyes, or of a wild cat's." Then, it is revealed that the nymph found the girl as an infant, drifting downstream in a wicker basket. The redhead is human, and she is revealed to be Countess Caroline's missing daughter, Elfrieda. Thus, she is betrothed to her beloved Konrad, and they finally marry, but not before the girl is welcomed at the chateau with tears of joy, like the young officer before her.

The ending of "The Fallen Ones' Change of Fortune", a feminist and anti-war story like many of other tales I have written, gives the idea that "life goes on": Konrad and Elfrieda have grandchildren, who grow into Enlightened freethinkers "who looked forward into the future, away from intolerance and prejudice". The eldest, their heir, is driven to exile by the Napoleonic Wars. In the end, no trace of the events survives into the present day after the Industrial Revolution and the World Wars.
I have dedicated the story to my own mother, "for giving me life, and for her great love and interest in my upbringing. Without her, I wouldn't be what I am." It is introduced by a Shakespeare quote, the one that ends with the beautiful words "good in everything."