One day, a good fellow, Ilya Muromets, was walking on a dark night towards the city of Murom, along a straight path through the Brynsky forests. He had already gone deep and suddenly he heard a mysterious rustling on the tree and on the branches. Look there, and out of the darkness, soul-chilling eyes are looking at him. Could it be the Nightingale the Robber or death itself? Ilya Muromets crossed himself and said out loud:
- If death, then take me as I am. And if the Nightingale is the Robber, then come down, and we will measure our strength with you, as an honest people, but a truthful people!
“I am not death, and certainly not a nightingale,” said a voice from above, “and if you guess my three riddles, then perhaps you will never know who I am.” Are you afraid? Will you try fate?
- Why not try? - answered Ilya Muromets. - So be it, ask!
“Then listen and answer for yourself.” How many leaves would not be visible on those trees if the moon did not shine from the side, where it is so dark at night that you could even poke out your eyes?
Ilya Muromets became thoughtful and thought for a long time.
- Sing well, Nightingale! And you won’t figure it out right away. How many of them are visible there?
But as soon as he looked up again, he froze completely. A divine light shimmering with magic streamed down the branches.
“Well then, tell me,” Ilya Muromets heard a voice from above more pleasantly, “can the Firebird fly above the sky, above a white cloud, and above the bright sun, when over the glorious city of Murom the rain pours like buckets, and terrible lightning sparkles?”
“I haven’t seen the Firebird, but I think whoever soars above the clouds can’t even see the rain.”
“Okay, good fellow,” and then the wind began to rustle and rage on the branches, “then guess my third riddle.” The hero was walking through the forest at night and met an unknown person. He guessed two riddles, but completely forgot about the third, because he was thinking all about the moon, and the sun, and the wind and rain, and how on the other side, and on a saucer, and an apple rolled, fell into the very middle, and rolled far away from him. And if you tell me how many times you have wrapped yourself around yourself, then maybe I’ll let you go free, but if you don’t know, I’ll take you with me and turn you into my eternal servant.
Here Ilya Muromets grabbed his club, stamped his foot, so much so that water gushed out from under the ground. He shouted in his mighty voice, so that the whole forest shook and responded to him.
- Well, get lost, you evil spirit! There is no place for you and your riddles here!
But there’s already no trace of him. The hero looked around, and when he didn’t see anyone, he went further along the straight path to the glorious good city of Murom. And behind him - his dark shadow, like a servant trudged, and like a slave, and like someone who doesn’t know how to think at all, but only follows on his heels, and scares him at night.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru