Once upon a time there lived an old miller with a long gray beard. They say that he was not very old - just flour dust ate into his beard and turned it silver. One way or another, I don’t know, but his days were numbered, and when Allah called him to himself, the miller left three sons on earth.
“Let’s work together, brothers,” suggested the younger brother, “we have a working mill, and things will go well.”
But the older brothers did not agree and demanded that the entire inheritance, including the mill, be divided equally. The will of the elders is the law, and the division began.
“I don’t want to walk around like my father, with a dusty beard,” the eldest became proud and chose a mill ditch for himself.
“I’m also tired of breathing flour dust,” said the middle brother and demanded that they give him the roof of the mill.
And the youngest got the millstone.
The older brother repaired the ditch, the middle one rolled the roller on the roof, the younger one looked after the millstone and regularly collected flour from each ground sack.
Some time passed like this. The older brother realized that he had made a mistake: he was watching the ditch, and the younger brother was getting the flour. The proud man did not want to admit his mistake and silently left the house. He walked for a long time until he reached the gorge near Upper Gvald, where the azhdaha lived.
- Salaam alaikum, azhdaha!
“If I didn’t respect the saps, I would have skinned you like a goat and eaten you,” azhdaha grumbled and asked: “Do you know fairy tales or songs?”
“No,” answered the miller’s eldest son and shook his head.
“Such know-nothings are a delicious dish,” azhdakha rejoiced and swallowed it instantly.
Soon the miller’s middle son realized that he had committed a stupidity: he did not agree to live together. Without hesitation, he also secretly left the mill.
He reached the gorge where azhdakha lived and shared the fate of his older brother.
-Where have my brothers gone? — the younger one became worried and went in search.
He walked and walked and finally also came to azhdha.
- Salaam alaikum, azhdaha! - shouted the younger brother.
“If I didn’t respect your garden, I would have swallowed you long ago,” answered azhdakha. “Do you know fairy tales or songs?”
“How can you not know, because I’m a miller, and they, brother, know everything: songs, fairy tales, and various fables.”
- Come on, tell me a story! - azhdaha demanded.
“Okay,” said the miller’s son. “But don’t interrupt me and listen in silence.” If you say a word, I'll cut the belt out of your back. And if you remain silent until the end, you can swallow me.
Azhdakha agreed, and the miller’s son began to talk.
“I was once herding mares.” It was so hot that water evaporated everywhere. I drove the mares to water, but the river had already frozen over. The mares don't go to the river. I then grabbed an ax, broke the ice and made a hole. Again the mares are not coming. I tore off my head and fed all the mares with the skull. I thought: if the river is so frozen, then how cold it must be at its sources. I went up the river and built a small fire. Suddenly a fire broke out - the river began to burn. I was afraid that the fire would reach my skull and ax, and I ran back. I saw that everything was burned, except for the ax and the skull.
Azhdha fidgeted and wanted to say something, but remembered the condition and remained silent.
“I put the skull in its place and moved on. In Zaib, he cut down trees with an ax and made a cart. I went hunting and saw deer. He threw the ax and killed two. He ate their meat and hung their skins on the branches.
Azhdha wanted to open his mouth, but restrained himself.
“Once I saw two bees fighting. "What didn't you share?" - I asked them. “This impudent one claims that she carries more honey than I,” one of the bees answered and began to beat the other. I separated them and offered to carry honey for me. Whoever brings more will be right. A few days later, both deer skins were filled to the brim with honey. I harnessed the bees to the cart, loaded them with skins with honey and went home. One bee began to lag behind, and I hit it with a stick. One end of the stick touched the ground, and with the other it threw me into the sky. I grabbed the edge of the sky with my hands and hung above the ground. I hung there for a long time, my legs dangling, and finally I saw a haystack and jumped into it.
I couldn’t stand the azhdah and shouted:
- What a talker you are!
“Oh, so!” exclaimed the miller’s son. “Give me your back.”
He began to tear off the belt from the azhdahi’s back and, as soon as he reached his neck, he stabbed him with a knife. Then both of his brothers jumped out. All three brothers went home and began to live together and work amicably at their father's mill.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru