Pashkundzhi
Whether it happened or not, in a certain land, there reigned a great king. He had three sons. The king was very wealthy. But besides all his riches, precious stones, and pearls, he also had a large and beautiful garden.In this garden stood an apple tree. On this tree grew marvelous apples, as big as a hat. The king cherished the apple tree as much as his own eyes, and he never picked the apples himself, nor did he allow others to do so. But then someone started stealing those apples. Days passed, and the number of the king's apples grew fewer and fewer.
The king grew worried and summoned his sons, saying:
"My children, we have only one apple tree in our garden, and even that we could not protect. How then shall we protect our kingdom? Someone is robbing us, and we do not know who. We must lie in wait, catch the thief, and find out who it is. Go and keep watch. Whoever catches the thief will inherit the entire kingdom."
The princes decided to guard the apple tree.
The eldest son went first. He lay down under the apple tree and fell fast asleep. At night, a demon came, picked the apples, and carried them away. In the morning, the prince returned home and claimed that no one had come during the night and that he had not slept a wink.
The next night, the middle son went. He, too, fell asleep. The demon came, picked the apples, and carried them away. In the morning, the middle brother also claimed that no one had come.
On the third night, it was the youngest son's turn. He took his bow and arrows and went to guard the apple tree.
The older brothers laughed at him:
"You, for sure, will catch the thief."
"I may not catch anyone, but at least I'll return alive," said the youngest and went.
He did not close his eyes all night, waiting for the thief. At midnight, the demon came, climbed the apple tree, and began picking the apples. The young man drew his bow, shot an arrow, and it whistled through the air, piercing the demon's heart. The demon roared, grabbed the arrow, tried to pull it out, but couldn't. He fell from the tree and fled, howling, leaving a trail of blood behind.
In the morning, the youngest son returned to the king and said:
"I have wounded our enemy. Now we must track him down."
The brothers laughed. The youngest stood up and said:
"Follow me, and I will prove that I am not lying."
The brothers armed themselves and followed the trail of blood. They walked and walked until the trail led them to a large stone. The demon had arrived there earlier, lifted the stone, and crawled beneath it into the ground. The brothers rolled the stone aside and decided to descend after the demon.
The eldest was to go first. His brothers tied a rope around him and lowered him into the demon's lair.
The eldest heard the demon growling and thrashing, and he screamed:
"Pull me up, pull me up!"
They pulled him up.
Next, they lowered the middle brother. He, too, screamed:
"Pull me up!"
They pulled him up as well.
Then it was the youngest's turn. They tied the rope around him and lowered him. The demon roared even louder, thrashing about, but the youngest was not afraid.
"Lower me further!" he shouted to his brothers.
They lowered the rope, and the young man entered the demon's home.
Inside, an old woman—the demon's mother—sat by the fire, cooking a pot of porridge. The young man approached and asked:
"Mother, what are you cooking, and for whom?"
"My son is sick. I am cooking for him."
"What is wrong with him?"
"Someone shot him."
"I can teach you how to heal him," said the king's son. "Boil a pot of cow's oil and pour it over his wound—it will help."
The old woman believed him, boiled a pot of cow's oil, and poured it over the demon's wound. The demon stretched out his legs and died.
The young man pulled his arrow from the demon's chest, killed the old woman—the demon's mother—and began exploring the demon's lair.
In one chamber, he found three maidens of unparalleled beauty.
He took them with him and returned to his brothers. He called up to them:
"Lower the rope!"
The brothers lowered the rope and pulled up the eldest sister.
"This one is for the eldest!" shouted the king's son.
They pulled up the middle sister.
"This one is for the middle brother!" he said.
When it came time to pull up the youngest sister, she refused to go without him.
"They will betray you," she said. "You must go up first, and then pull me up."
He refused. The maiden then said:
"If you do not believe me, then at least do this. If you stay here, go down that path and enter a room where there are two sheep—one white and one black. If you ride the black sheep, you will remain here. If you ride the white sheep, you will enter the underworld. As the sheep carries you to the underworld, repeat these words:
'Grandma's roof is soft,
Grandma's roof is padded,'
and you will land softly."
The brothers pulled up the youngest sister, cut the rope, threw it down, and left, taking the maiden with them. The young man was left alone in the demon's lair, feeling sorrowful.
Then he remembered the sheep. He went in search of them, found them, and mounted the white sheep. It carried him to the underworld.
"Grandma's roof is soft,
Grandma's roof is padded,"
he repeated, and he landed softly on the padded roof of an old woman's house. He stood up and entered the house.
Inside, an old woman—blind in one eye—sat eating porridge. The young man sat on her blind side and began eating the porridge.
When the old woman finished her porridge, she was surprised at how quickly it had disappeared. She turned and saw the young man.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Your son," he replied.
The old woman was overjoyed—she had no children. She took him in and cared for him as if he were her own son.
One day, he noticed that the old woman had sifted flour and was crying.
"Why are you crying, mother?" he asked.
"The demon has taken all the water. How shall I make dough?"
"I will fetch water for you. Give me a jug."
The old woman tried to stop him: "The demon will kill you. He will not let you return alive."
But the young man did not listen. He took the jug, went to the river, filled it to the brim, and was about to leave when...
"Who is there?" shouted the demon. "Not even a fly dares to buzz here—everyone fears me. What brings you here?"
"I am your guest," replied the young man.
— Alright, take it, — says the dev, — for the first time, as a guest, I’ll forgive you.
The young man carried away the water. He distributed water to the entire city, giving each person an eggshell’s worth. When everyone’s water ran out, the young man took his jug and went back for more water.
The dev heard him and shouted:
— Who’s there?
— It’s me, your guest! — replied the young man.
The dev said nothing. The young man carried away the water, distributed it again to the entire city in eggshell portions, but soon it ran out once more. The young man decided to fetch water again. He armed himself, took his bow and arrows, and set off. He arrived, filled his jug with water,
— Who’s there? — the dev shouted.
— It’s me, your guest! — said the young man.
— Once a guest, twice a guest, but what kind of guest are you the third time? — roared the dev and lunged at the young man.
They began to wrestle. The young man swung and drove the dev knee-deep into the ground. The dev swung and drove the young man knee-deep as well. The young man swung again and drove the dev waist-deep. The dev swung and did the same to the young man. Then the young man leapt out, drove the dev neck-deep into the ground, swung his sword, cut off the dev’s head, and nailed it to the ground with his sword.
He returned home, told no one, only said to his grandmother:
— Go fetch some water!
The whole city learned that the dev had been killed. Everyone rushed to the water — people and animals alike. They drank and drank, overjoyed, unable to quench their thirst.
The king also learned that the dev had been killed. He immediately ordered the killer to be found. The entire city gathered, all his kingdom, but no one could find the one who had slain the dev. Some even lied, claiming, “I killed him.” They were taken to the dev’s head, nailed to the ground with the sword.
— Well, if you killed him, pull out this sword! — they said.
No one could pull out the sword. They searched and searched, but could not find the one who had killed the dev.
Then the king said:
— Tell me, is everyone here who lives in my kingdom?
— Everyone, except for one old woman and her adopted son, a young man, — they replied.
The king immediately ordered the old woman and the young man to be brought to him.
The young man came, pulled out the sword, and said that he was the one who had killed the dev. The king took him to the palace and began a feast and celebration.
— What do you ask for? How shall I reward you for your service? — said the king. — Stay with me, I’ll give you the entire kingdom.
— No, — replied the young man, — I’m not from here, I’m from the world above. If you can, take me there; that would be the best gift for me. If you cannot, at least teach me how a person can find their way there.
They told him:
— Only the magical bird Pashkundzhi can do that.
The young man stood up, armed himself, and went to Pashkundzhi.
Pashkundzhi had chicks, and a gvele-shapi was devouring them all. The young man arrived and saw the chicks sitting in the nest, one crying, the other laughing.
The young man was surprised and asked:
— Why is one laughing and the other crying?
The one who was crying said:
— I’m crying because the gvele-shapi will eat me today!
The one who was laughing said:
— I’m laughing because the gvele-shapi will only eat me tomorrow; I still have one day left to live.
The king’s son said:
— Don’t be afraid anymore, but why — only I and that gvele-shapi know.
The king’s son sat down and waited. Suddenly, everything around grew dark. The chicks of Pashkundzhi said that the gvele-shapi was coming, blocking the sun. The young man took his bow, drew it, and as the gvele-shapi approached, shot an arrow straight into its heart. The gvele-shapi fell and emitted a terrible stench.
The young man gathered the gvele-shapi — a whole mountain piled up. Suddenly, thunder rumbled, and rain began to pour.
— What’s this? — the young man asked Pashkundzhi’s chicks.
— It’s our mother crying, shedding tears, thinking the gvele-shapi has already swallowed us.
The chicks hid the young man. Pashkundzhi flew in, saw her chicks alive, and rejoiced.
— Who saved you, my children, who? — she asked.
— If you don’t eat him, we’ll show you, — said the chicks.
— How could I eat him, the one who saved my children? — said Pashkundzhi. — Show him to me!
The chicks brought out the young man. The magical bird Pashkundzhi embraced him, broke all his ribs in her joy, then ran her wing over them and healed him completely.
— I am in your debt, — said Pashkundzhi, — ask, and I will fulfill any wish.
— Take me to the world above, — replied the young man, — that will repay me for everything.
— Very well, — said Pashkundzhi, — take plenty of meat, lay it on one of my wings, sit on the other, and we’ll fly to the world above.
And so they did. The young man laid meat on one of Pashkundzhi’s wings, climbed onto the other, and they flew off.
Whenever Pashkundzhi turned her head, the young man placed a piece of meat in her beak, and they continued on their way. When they ran out of meat, the young man cut a piece from under his knee and gave it to Pashkundzhi.
— Oh, what delicious meat, — exclaimed Pashkundzhi, — what is this?
— It’s my own flesh, — replied the young man.
— If I had known human flesh was so tasty, I would have eaten you long ago, — said Pashkundzhi; she ran her wing over his wound, healed it, set the young man down on the ground, bid him farewell, and flew away.
The young man went on his way. Whether he walked a long time or a short time, he reached his kingdom. Along the way, he met a swineherd. The swineherd sat and wept. The king’s son approached and asked:
— Why are you crying so?
— How can I not cry? — said the swineherd. — Our princes are having a wedding. The youngest son of the king was killed, and the eldest is marrying his bride.
— Listen, — said the young man, — give me your clothes. Take mine. I am their younger brother; I’ll go and see how they’re getting married.
He dressed as a swineherd and went to his brothers. The eldest brother sat there, rejoicing. In the courtyard, the entire army had gathered, holding the younger brother’s bow, competing with each other — who could draw it.
No one could draw the bow.
— Give the bow to my swineherd, — shouted the eldest brother, laughing, — maybe he can draw it.
The younger brother took an arrow, drew the bow, and shouted:
— Shall I shoot the bull or the cow?
The bride recognized her groom, her heart filled with joy, and she cried:
— Shoot the bull; what has the cow done wrong?
The younger brother shot the arrow and killed the eldest brother, married his bride, and began to rule.
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