Once upon a time there lived two comrades - Ashhamadzh and Agamaj. Both of them loved to joke, did not allow anyone to deceive them, and often competed with each other in dexterity and resourcefulness. And this time they argued: who would outwit whom.
“Show your dexterity,” Ashhamaj suggested, “pluck a feather from an eagle’s wing without being noticed, then I will believe in you.”
“Okay,” Agamaj answered and climbed up the tree, on top of which the eagle was resting.
Before Agamaj had time to reach the middle of the trunk, Ashkhamaj deftly took off his pants. Agamaj crept up to the eagle and quietly pulled out a feather from its wing. Satisfied, he descended to the ground and handed it to the smiling Ashhamaj.
- Well done! - he said. - This is an eagle feather. But tell me, please, did you probably exchange it for pants?
Only then did Agamaj notice that he was without pants, and guessed who had played such a joke on him.
- Apparently, we are not inferior to each other in dexterity! - he exclaimed, pulling on the pants that his friend returned to him.
Friends walked along the road together.
“You know what, Agamaj,” Ashhamaj turned to his friend, “we live in need.” I'm tired of subsisting from bread to water. Let's get someone to work for us. Let's save money and live happily ever after!
Agamaj agreed. They began to look for work. They came to one village and learned that a rich widow was looking for a shepherd for her cow. The friends went to the widow and offered their services.
“Even though I’m looking for one shepherd, and there are two of you, you two can’t handle my cow,” said the widow, looking at them carefully.
- We can handle it! - the friends answered. -Aren't we men? It never occurred to them that this cow had a special disposition and habits: during the night she put manure in the barn almost to the ceiling, and grazed on the run, without resting anywhere.
The next day, the shepherds got to work: Ashhamadzh stayed to clean the barn, Agamaj went to graze the extraordinary cow.
From early morning until late evening, without rest, barely having time to eat a piece of corn cake, Ashhamaj cleaned the barn. And Agamaj, having barely let the cow out of the barn, was forced to trot after her so as not to lose sight of her. The cow rushed to the seashore, ran around the coast, licked the salty sand and, accelerating its pace, headed into the mountains, towards lush meadows. Only in the evening, completely exhausted, barely trailing behind a well-fed cow, the hungry Agamaj entered the yard.
- Well, are you tired? - he asked his friend, who, panting and covered in sweat, had just left the barn.
“Nothing,” he answered. - The work is easy. I threw out two or three shovels of manure and that was it.
- Why is your whole shirt wet? – Agamaj was surprised.
“I was lying in the sun with nothing to do, so I started sweating,” Ashhamaj answered and asked in turn: “How are you doing?”
“It’s not a cow, it’s dead meat,” said Agamaj, twisting his mouth. - He can barely drag his feet. He pushed and pushed and rubbed the calluses on his hands with a stick.
- Why is your shirt wet? – Ashhamaj asked in amazement.
“I also lay in the sun all day.” It was so hot that I was sweating. By the way, tomorrow is your turn to graze the cow. Bring your apkhyartsu and a bench with you. Sit somewhere in the shade, play, sing. To hell with the cow. Let him mark time in one place, let him eat his own hooves instead of grass.
“And you, Agamaj, when you go to clean the barn, grab an old saddle from the stable, it’s lying there in the temple.” Apparently they forgot about him. Fix it, there's still nothing to do. Then we'll take it, it'll come in handy.
The next day they got to work in the morning. Agamaj took the saddle and carried it to the barn, but it turned out that the cow had filled it almost to the ceiling with dung during the night. In order not to get the saddles dirty, Agamaj decided to hide it somewhere in the yard. But as luck would have it, at that moment the widow left the house and wandered around the yard until the evening. Agamaj had to saddle himself in the barn and work with the annoying load on his back all day.
Meanwhile, his comrade, perching a bench on his shoulders, with an aphhyartsa under his arm, was running after the cow. The cow, as yesterday, went to the sea, licked the sand and rushed to the mountain meadows, where it prowled until evening. Ashhamaj returned, barely dragging his feet. Just by this time, the exhausted Agamaj finished cleaning the stable.
-What did you do to me? – Ashkhamaj attacked him, barely catching his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me that this damned cow was so difficult to herd?” I would not take any Apkhyars or benches with me. I didn't have to sit down all day.
“Why didn’t you tell me that it’s so difficult to work in the barn?” – Agamaj grumbled angrily.
Without looking at each other, they wandered to the hostess to demand payment.
- Although you only worked for two days and are pretty lazy, you still seem to be not bad guys. “I will give you a generous reward for your efforts,” said the widow, handing over several gold coins.
They began to divide the coins equally. But among the gold coins there was a brand new half coin. The argument started because of her.
“Give it to me, do me a favor,” Ashhamaj began to beg Agamaj, “in a week I will give it to you.”
He eventually agreed. Exactly a week later, Agamaj went to his friend early in the morning. He enters the house and sees: Ashhamadzh’s wife is crying, bursting into tears, tearing out her hair.
Agamaj asked in amazement who she was mourning so much.
- Husband! – the woman answered. – Yesterday he died of a stomach illness. I was left alone over a fresh grave.
Agamaj was shocked. He also cried, sat with the widow until dusk and went home. But on the way, a thought flashed through his mind: had Ashhamaj cheated this time too, not wanting to return the half-ruble? He turned back, went to the cemetery, found a grave there, covered with boards and lightly covered with earth. Agamaj began to watch the grave.
At midnight, some thieves with a bag of stolen gold and a precious saber came and settled down at the grave of Ashhamaj.
One of the robbers suggested dividing the loot here, and first of all deciding who to give the saber to. They decided to give the saber to the one who distinguished himself the most during the robbery, and everyone began to examine the blade. One said it was a blade made of hardened steel, others said it was made of plain iron. To resolve the dispute, one of the robbers said:
“If this saber can cut a person with one blow, then the blade is made of hardened steel; if not, it is made of simple iron.” –
Everyone agreed with him, but there was no one to try the saber on. Then the robbers offered to dig up the dead man for this purpose. All these conversations were heard by the person buried alive.
The robbers quickly dug up Ashhamadj's coffin and, having taken out the imaginary dead man from there, put him on his feet, leaning him against a tree. However, when one of the robbers, taking a saber in his hands, swung to cut the dead man, Ashhamadj shouted in fear at the top of his lungs. The robbers were so frightened by surprise that they threw away their saber and bag of gold and ran away.
Then Agamaj ran up to Ashhamaj. He began to demand the return of the half-stuff and the division of the abandoned treasures. Soon the argument turned into a fight.
Meanwhile, the fleeing robbers, having come to their senses, stopped and, after consulting, sent one robber to the grave to find out what was happening there.
He made his way to the fence of the grave and, seeing that the dead man was fighting with someone, rushed to his friends. Having heard the story about this, the robbers fled.
Ashhamaj and Agamaj began dividing the treasures. They divided everything, but Ashkhamaj refused to return the debt - half a ruble.
“I didn’t take her to the grave,” he declared to Agamaj. “It’s lying around the house somewhere.”
Friends went out onto the road. Ashhamaj pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping his sweaty forehead. Then the ill-fated half fell out of his pocket. A dispute over the half-stuff broke out with renewed vigor, but the friends could not share it.
Finally they decided: let the first person they meet settle the dispute. Soon they met a horseman. They asked to judge them. He thought and said:
- Show me the half-shelf.
Ashhamaj handed him a coin. He took it, examined it and asked:
- Isn’t she fake?
- What are you, what are you - look: it burns like pure gold.
- Well, in that case, good. I see that even though each of you has a lot of intelligence, you can go crazy arguing over half a coin. And it will be useful to me! - With these words, he whipped his horse and galloped off, raising a cloud of dust.
Thus ended the dispute between two cheerful friends Ashhamaj and Agamaj.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru