Filipka the Son

Once upon a time, there lived a husband and wife. They had no children. The wife grieved: there was no one to cradle, no one to comfort...

One day, the husband went to the forest, cut a log from an alder tree, brought it home, and said to his wife:

"Here, cradle this."

The wife placed the log in the cradle and began to rock it, singing lullabies.

"Luli-luli, my little son, with white shoulders and black eyes..."

She rocked it for a day, then a second day, and on the third day, lo and behold—a boy lay in the cradle!

The husband and wife rejoiced, named their son Pilipka, and began to care for him.

Pilipka grew up and said to his father:

"Father, make me a golden boat and a silver oar—I want to go fishing."

The father made him a golden boat and a silver oar and sent him to the lake to fish.

And the son—if he was going to fish, he fished all day and all night. He didn’t even go home—the fishing was too good! His mother brought him his meals herself. She would come to the lake and call:

"Pilipka, my son, come to the shore, eat a pie!"

Pilipka would row to the shore, throw the fish from his boat, eat the pie, and return to the lake.

The old witch Baba Yaga—the one with the bony leg—found out how the mother called Pilipka and decided to do away with him.

She took a sack and a poker, went to the lake, and began to call:

"Pilipka, my son, come to the shore, eat a pie!"

Pilipka thought it was his mother and rowed to the shore. But Baba Yaga hooked the boat with her poker, pulled it ashore, grabbed Pilipka, and stuffed him into the sack.

"Aha," she said, "you won’t be fishing anymore!"

She threw the sack over her shoulder and carried it to her home deep in the forest.

She carried it for a long time, grew tired, sat down to rest, and fell asleep. Meanwhile, Pilipka climbed out of the sack, filled it with heavy stones, and returned to the lake.

Baba Yaga woke up, grabbed the sack with the stones, and, groaning, carried it home.

When she arrived, she said to her daughter:

"Roast this fisherman for my lunch." Baba Yaga dumped the sack onto the floor, but only stones fell out...

Baba Yaga flew into a rage, shouting throughout the hut:

"I’ll show you how to trick me!" She ran back to the lake and began calling Pilipka:

"Pilipka, my son, come to the shore, eat a pie!"

Pilipka heard her and said:

"No, you’re not my mother—you’re the witch Baba Yaga. I know you! My mother’s voice is softer."

No matter how Baba Yaga called, Pilipka refused to listen.

"Fine," thought Baba Yaga, "I’ll make my voice softer."

She ran to the blacksmith and said:

"Blacksmith, blacksmith, sharpen my tongue so it’s thinner."

"Alright," said the blacksmith, "I’ll sharpen it. Put it on the anvil."

Baba Yaga laid her long tongue on the anvil.

The blacksmith took a hammer and began to forge the tongue. He hammered it until it became very thin.

Baba Yaga ran to the lake and called Pilipka in a thin voice:

"Pilipka, my son, come to the shore, eat a pie!"

Pilipka heard her and thought it was his mother calling. He rowed to the shore, and Baba Yaga grabbed him and stuffed him into the sack!

"Now you won’t trick me!" rejoiced Baba Yaga.

Without resting, she carried him straight home. She dumped him out of the sack and said to her daughter:

"Here he is, the trickster! Heat the oven, roast him. He’ll be ready for lunch."

She said this and then left. The daughter heated the oven, brought a shovel, and said to Pilipka:

"Lie down on the shovel, and I’ll put you in the oven." Pilipka lay down and raised his legs up.

"Not like that!" shouted the witch’s daughter. "I can’t put you in the oven like that."

Pilipka lowered his legs.

"Not like that!" shouted the witch’s daughter again.

"Then how?" asked Pilipka. "Show me yourself."

"You’re so foolish!" scolded the witch’s daughter. "This is how it’s done. Watch."

She lay down on the shovel herself, stretched out. But Pilipka grabbed the shovel and shoved her into the oven! He closed the oven door and pressed it tightly with the witch’s pestle so she couldn’t escape from the hot oven.

As soon as he ran out of the hut, he saw Baba Yaga approaching.

Pilipka jumped onto a tall, thick sycamore tree and hid in its branches.

Baba Yaga entered the hut, sniffed—it smelled of roast. She took the roast from the oven, ate the meat, threw the bones into the yard, and began rolling on them, saying:

"I’ll roll and tumble, having eaten Pilipka’s flesh and drunk his blood."

But Pilipka answered her from the sycamore tree:

"Roll and tumble, having eaten your daughter’s flesh and drunk her blood."

The witch heard this and turned black with rage.

She ran to the sycamore tree and began gnawing at it with her teeth. She gnawed and gnawed, broke her teeth, but the sturdy sycamore stood as firm as ever.

Then Baba Yaga ran to the blacksmith:

"Blacksmith, blacksmith, forge me a steel axe, or I’ll eat your children!"

The blacksmith was frightened and forged her an axe. Baba Yaga ran to the sycamore tree and began chopping it.

But Pilipka said:

"Not the sycamore, but the stone!" But the witch insisted:

"Not the stone, but the sycamore!" And Pilipka repeated:

"Not the sycamore, but the stone!"

Then the axe struck the stone and shattered.

The witch howled with rage, grabbed the axe, and ran to the blacksmith to sharpen it.

Pilipka saw the sycamore tree beginning to sway. The witch had nearly chopped it down. It was time to escape before it was too late.

A flock of geese flew by. Pilipka called to them:

"Geese, geese, drop me a feather each! I’ll fly with you to my father and mother, and they’ll reward you."

The geese dropped him a feather each. Pilipka made half a wing from these feathers. Another flock of geese flew by. Pilipka asked:

"Geese, geese, drop me a feather each! I’ll fly with you to my father and mother, and they’ll reward you..."

The second flock also dropped him feathers.

Then a third and fourth flock came. All the geese dropped Pilipka feathers.

Pilipka made himself wings and flew after the geese.

The witch returned from the blacksmith, chopping the sycamore tree, sending chips flying.

She chopped and chopped, and the sycamore—crash!—fell on the witch and crushed her.

Meanwhile, Pilipka flew home with the geese. His father and mother were overjoyed that Pilipka had returned. They sat him at the table and began to feast.

And the geese were given oats. And that’s the end of the tale.

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Filipka the Son

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