Once upon a time there lived a widow. She had a son, Ivan, ten years old.
One day, Ivan’s mother sent Ivan to the mill to grind rye. Of course, they didn’t have a horse. Ivan shouldered the bag of grain and walked to the mill. Due to his youth, he was still not strong enough; he wanted to rest on the road, so he took the bag off his shoulder to put it on the ground, and then dropped it. The bag tore and the grain spilled onto the ground. While Ivan was thinking about how to collect the scattered rye, the mischievous son of the Wind flew in and scattered all the grain across the field.
Ivan pushed, grieved, and returned with an empty, torn bag. I told my mother about what had happened, she was also saddened, and then said:
- Go, son, go to the mother of the Wind and tell her about our bitter need. Ask them to return our grain to us.
That's what Ivan did. He came to the mother of the Wind and said:
“Your children scattered our last grain across the field.” Give it back to us.
“Okay, we’ll return,” Vetra’s mother answered, “you’ll just have to wait until the children return home.”
The eldest son returned home.
“Son, weren’t you the one who scattered this boy’s grain across the field?” asked his mother.
“What are you talking about, mom!” the eldest son was offended. “I was uprooting hundred-year-old oak trees in the forest.” Why would I embarrass myself with such trifles?!
Soon the middle son returned home.
“Son, weren’t you the one who scattered this boy’s grain across the field?” and his mother asked him.
“What are you talking about, mom!” the middle son answered with offense. “I remove roofs from barns, break the wings of windmills.” I have no time to deal with such trivial matters.
And the youngest, as soon as he returned and saw Ivan, did not deny it, he immediately apologized to his mother.
“How will we now repay the boy for his grain?” asked the mother of her children.
“Give the boy this pie,” said the sons. The mother did just that: she gave Ivan a large pie. But
She ordered me not to fix it until home.
“Okay, I won’t,” said Ivan and skipped home.
Night overtook him on the way, and he went to spend the night with a married woman.
her sister. Before going to bed, he warned her.
- You, sister, don’t fix this pie. I was told not to fix it until I got home.
“Okay, okay, brother, sleep well, you’re probably tired,” his sister answers him.
And as soon as Ivan fell asleep, she immediately broke the pie in two. Silver and gold fell from the pie. The sister gasped in surprise and, without thinking twice, replaced Ivanov’s pie with another.
Ivan got up in the morning, took the pie his sister had replaced and went home. At home I gave the pie to my mother untouched. However, the mother remained dissatisfied.
“What have you done, son!” she reproached him. “Why did you agree to just one pie?” Would we bake one pie from a bag of rye? Go and bring him back.
Ivan took the pie and again went to the mother of the Wind.
“The boy didn’t like the pie,” she said to her sons. “What will we give him in return?”
“Give him a goat,” the sons advised.
Ivan took the goat and took it home. The road was not close, I had to go to my sister’s again to spend the night. And again he warned her:
“Sister, I was ordered not to milk the goat until home and not to tell her: “Koch! Goat!"
“Okay, okay, brother,” answered the sister. “Sleep well.” And as soon as Ivan closed his eyes, she ran out to the goat and
said:
- Koch! Goat! Koch!
Silver and gold immediately fell out of the goat. My sister exchanged the goat for hers.
The next day, Ivan, not suspecting his sister of anything and not guessing anything, brought the goat home. The mother was not happy this time either:
“Eh, son,” she said reproachfully, “we ourselves are surviving from bread to water.” How will we be able to feed the goat as well? Better take her back.
Ivan had to go to Vetra’s mother for the third time.
“My mother is scolding,” Ivan explained his third visit, “she says there isn’t enough bread for ourselves, not enough for a goat.”
“What should I give him in return for the goats?” Mother Wind asked her sons again.
“Shouldn’t I give him this club?” said the eldest son. They gave Ivan a club.
“Look, Ivan, don’t even think about saying “Hit, club!” until you get home,” the eldest son ordered at parting.
Ivan is going home. On the way, he stops by to spend the night with his sister.
“See, sister, don’t you dare say to my baton: Strike, baton, strike!” I was told that this baton was not an ordinary one.
“Okay, brother,” the sister promised, “I won’t say any words to your club.” Sleep well.
And she herself just waited until Ivan fell asleep, and immediately went to the baton:
- Strike, club, strike!
The baton jumped out of the corner where it was standing, and began to assault Ivan’s sister on the sides and back. The sister screamed at the top of her lungs:
- Ivan, stop the baton! I will return everything to you: the pie with the precious filling and the goat.
Ivan woke up and calmed the magic club. The sister gave him both the pie and the goat.
Ivan came home and gave both to his mother. The mother broke the pie and was delighted. And I saw a goat and frowned:
- Eh, son, I told you, and again you brought this unnecessary goat.
“No, mom,” said Ivan, “this goat is not simple, but like a pie, it’s golden.”
The mother stopped frowning. She petted and fed the goat. Mother and son lived in complete prosperity. They say that to this day they live and are friends with the sons of the Wind.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru