The Tale of Tskhetag and Devtag

There once lived a mother and her son. They were so poor that they didn’t even have a house to live in. They wandered from place to place. Tskhetag hunted and thus provided for his mother. One day, the mother and son came across some ruins. They went inside, cleaned up the place, covered the roof, and settled there. One day, while sweeping the floor, the mother found a spindle. She picked it up, washed it in milk, and stored it in cotton. The spindle grew into a dev (a demon), and the dev became the mother’s husband. The mother became pregnant and gave birth to a son—Devtag. The mother was afraid of Tskhetag and buried little Devtag in hot ashes. When Tskhetag returned from hunting, he asked:

"Mother, what is buried in the ashes?"

"Nothing, my son. I always bury bones in the ashes after your hunts."

"Well, uncover it."

The mother refused, but Tskhetag dug it up himself and found Devtag.

"I didn’t know, Mother, that I had a brother, and you wanted to burn him."

Devtag grew—by a palm’s length during the day and by five at night. He grew big, and the mother began to love him more than Tskhetag. She decided to kill Tskhetag. She placed her husband, the dev, at the door and ordered him to strike Tskhetag on the head with a door bolt and kill him when he returned from hunting.

Devtag ran to meet his brother, climbed onto his back, and hugged his neck. The dev pitied his son and couldn’t bring himself to lower the bolt, so Tskhetag was saved.

"What should I do?" the dev asked.

"Climb onto the roof and drop a millstone on Tskhetag’s head," the mother replied. Devtag ran to his brother and pleaded:

"Put me on your shoulders."

"You didn’t ask to be carried when you were this small, and now you want to?" Tskhetag said.

But Devtag insisted, so Tskhetag took him on his shoulders and entered the house. Again, the dev couldn’t drop the millstone, fearing he would kill his son—and Tskhetag was saved once more.

The mother then said to Tskhetag:

"I swear by the name of your mother, tell me, do you sleep anywhere other than at home?"

"Yes," Tskhetag replied. "If I don’t sleep in the field, I can’t hunt."

The dev decided to attack and kill Tskhetag while he slept in the field. Devtag overheard and begged his brother to take him hunting.

"You don’t even listen to me at home, and now you want to go hunting?" Tskhetag said.

But Devtag insisted, so his brother took him along. They arrived in the field. Tskhetag fell asleep. Dark clouds gathered above him. Just as the dev was about to pounce on Tskhetag, Devtag took his bow, aimed, and shot an arrow straight into the dev.

Tskhetag woke up and said to Devtag:

"You go to the white mountain; there’s good hunting there, and the game is small. I’ll go to the red mountain; the game is large there, but the place is cursed. Whoever survives will go to the stream in the morning and hold out a handful of water. If the other is alive, the handful will fill with water; if dead, with blood."

In the morning, Devtag went to the stream, held out his hand, and it filled with blood. Tears streamed from his eyes, burning his cheeks. He went to the red mountain to search for his brother.

Devtag hunted for a long time, gathering so much game that he used the bones as tent poles and covered them with hides to make a shelter. Suddenly, a huge dev appeared.

"Come into the tent," Devtag said to the dev.

"I’m afraid of your weapons."

"What should I do with them?"

"Tie them with my hair."

"Give me your hair."

The dev gave him his hair, but Devtag threw it into the fire, burned it, and said:

"Come in."

"I’m afraid of your dogs."

"What should I do with them?"

"Tie them to my millstone."

"Give me the millstone."

The dev handed it over, but Devtag threw the millstone over the mountain and said:

"Come into the house."

The dev entered and began devouring ashes and coals.

"What are you eating?" Devtag asked. "You’re truly a dev—so much meat, and you’re feasting on ashes."

The dev replied:

"I’ll eat the ashes and coals first, then the meat, and then you." The dev ate the ashes and coals, then the meat, and went after Devtag. But Devtag called his dogs:

"Come here, my hounds!"

The hounds rushed in, surrounded the dev, and tore him apart. Devtag cut off the dev’s head, slit his belly, and so many people, suns, and moons came out that there wasn’t enough space for all of them. Tskhetag also emerged. The brothers went home. On the way, they argued. Devtag said:

"I worked harder."

Tskhetag replied:

"No, I did more."

"Then let’s stand facing each other and shoot. Whoever worked harder won’t be hit; whoever did less will be hit."

They shot, and the arrow hit Tskhetag’s little finger, killing him. Devtag, overcome with grief, struck himself with a sword and died. The hounds howled and wailed, disturbing the heavens. The gods sent a crow to see what the commotion was about. The crow descended, pecked out the brothers’ eyes, ate them, and flew back up. The gods asked:

"Well, what’s happening down there?"

"Men and women are running around, making noise."

But the hounds kept howling. The gods sent a dove.

"Go, little dove, for you alone speak the truth. Find out what happened on earth."

The dove flew down, dipped its feet in the blood, and returned.

The gods asked:

"So, what’s the matter?"

"Devtag and Tskhetag fought and killed each other."

The gods sent the dove again, giving it a thread of sapphire: "Thread it through their eye sockets, wash them with silver water, and dry them with a golden towel—they will come back to life." The dove did as instructed.

Devtag and Tskhetag came back to life and went home. Their mother baked bread—for herself and Devtag, she used flour; for Tskhetag, she ground the dev’s bones. Devtag said:

"Mother, bring me some garlic; my stomach hurts."

The mother went to fetch garlic. Devtag switched the bread—he gave Tskhetag the bread meant for their mother and gave the mother the bread made from the dev’s bones.

Tskhetag and Devtag ate their bread. The mother ate hers and turned to stone because the bread was made from the dev’s bones.

The brothers lived happily ever after. And all treacherous mothers will meet the same fate as this one.

This tale was told by Arsen Oniani, who heard it from his mother.

↑ To the top

The Tale of Tskhetag and Devtag

More fairy tales