The springs flow, the deer scream, the flowers bloom. The greenery of the meadows is overflowing, the thin-voiced cuckoos are crowing, the wind is swaying the sandalwood trees, which are unable to lift their branches. Hawks and golden eagles scream, bushes intertwine with each other, green grass stands in a ridge.
Blue smoke stretches out, a dove coos, the larch tree becomes beautiful. Nature and people are happy.
At a glorious hour, the good batar (hero) Ovshe was born on earth. His father was Yenke-Menke (Calmness-Eternity), and his mother was Erdeni-Jirgal (Jewel-Joy).
They stroked the child's back - and did not find a vertebra that could bend; they felt between the ribs - they did not find such a place - a gap into which an evil person could thrust a knife. The teeth were like shells, white and pink, the eyes were beautiful - they could see an ant a hundred miles away.
Thus was born the glorious batar, thus was born the best of the husbands of Ovshe.
Ovshe erected a wonderful red camp (parking lot, camp) on the beautiful white plain of Tyulkur (Key). The terme was made from pure gold.
The stake stood on seventy-five supports. They threw twenty-four wall coverings over them and tied them with twenty-four belts. The front cover of the roof was stuffed with deer skins and trimmed with white silk on top. The wide bedspread was made of beautiful rainbow silk, and all the ties were made of flowery red threads.
On the doors of the headquarters there was a picture of Garuda proudly soaring in the air, on the doorposts - the dogs Basar and Khasar, and on the top doorpost - a parrot. Butting goats were carved on the lattice and roof poles, and lions and tigers were carved on the supports.
Ovshe grew quickly. It’s been a long time since people have seen such a glorious batar.
At the same time as Ovshe, Aranzal, a wonderful horse, was born. There was no bending vertebra on the back of that horse; the villain could not find a space between the ribs for a thin knife. Aranzal rushed across the ground and air like a snowstorm, carrying his beloved owner Ovshe.
Soon the time came for Ovsha to help his people, to show his batarian strength and courage, intelligence and fearlessness.
The cruel and terrible mangadhai attacked the poor people. The Mangadhai had a leader. In battle, no one was afraid of him. He had incomparable strength. Against such strength, batar Ovshe seemed a weak boy.
The Mangadhai stole cattle from poor people, destroyed their villages, killed those who resisted, took children captive and made them their slaves.
The people came to Ovsha to ask for protection, to help defeat the Mangadhai, to destroy their evil leader.
Ovshe didn’t think for a long time. I got ready for the road instantly. He jumped on Aranzal and said goodbye to the people.
People from different nomadic camps gave farewell words to Ovsha:
Be happy on your path! Be successful in your deeds!
Ovshe left. A day goes by, a hundred days goes by. There is no trace of Mangadhaev.
Ovshe decided to rest. He himself was tired, and the horse was tired. Ovshe lay down under a tree and let his horse graze next to him.
Ovshe woke up in the morning - there was no horse.
Ovshe immediately guessed who stole such a strong horse.
Ovshe dressed as a shepherd and followed the tracks of the horses. Large footprints are the horse of the leader of the Mangadhai, smaller ones are the traces of Aranzal.
A little later I caught up with Ovshe Mangadhai. Ovshe knew that Mangadhai was stronger than him, so he decided to be careful and use cunning.
“I am a shepherd,” says Ovshe, “a poor orphan.” You took my master's horse. If I return home alone, without a horse, my owner will kill me. Give me the horse.
Mangadhai answers in a thunderous voice:
“Well, if he kills you, then get on your horse and ride, but not to your master, but to me.” You will live with me, you will work for me!
And from those words it hums and buzzes, the Old Earth trembles.
Mangadhai clung to Aranzal's bridle, whipped his horse, and set off. There is nothing to do. Ovshe and Mangadhai went together.
When we arrived, the first thing Mangadhai did was start eating. In one sitting he ate a thousand shaga-chimgins (lamb thighs), drank two wells of airak (yogurt), drained three wells of arza, lapped up four wells of khorza, and sucked out five wells of khoron4.
I got my fill of mangadhai and was in a good mood.
“Well,” says Mangadhai Ovshe, “tell me how the heroes of your people live, what wonderful morels these morels can do.”
Ovsha answers:
“Our heroes drink up a whole cauldron of molten cast iron in one breath and don’t blink an eye!”
Mangadhai chuckled. He ordered ten cauldrons of molten cast iron to be brought. He drank them one after another, remained unharmed, just chuckled.
Ovshe sees that his cunning did not work.
“What else can your unfortunate heroes do?” asks Mangadhai.
“Our heroes are able to stand in water up to their chests even in winter until the water freezes.” And when the ice covers the river, they break the ice like a straw and come out of the water unharmed.
“Follow me,” says Mangadhai. They mounted their horses and rode off to a country where the winter was severe.
Mangadhai climbed into the water up to his chest, waited until the river was covered with ice, moved his hand - the ice crumbled into small pieces. Mangadhai began to crawl out of the water.
“Stop!” Ovshe shouts to him. “This is not a thing yet.” I was wrong when I said that the water should be chest-deep. You need to stand in such a place that the water reaches your mouth, and the tips of your toes just barely touch the river bottom.
Mangadhai climbed into a deep place. The water reaches your mouth and is covered with ice.
- Now get out! - shouts Ovshe.
No matter how much mangadhai tried, he was unable to get out. He's puffing out of anger, the vein on his forehead is like a rope, he's puffed up, but he can't break the ice.
Ovshe was delighted. He pulled out his sharp diamond sword and rushed towards Mangadhai. No such luck! He blew a mangadhai on Ovshe. From that breath Ovshe flew a hundred miles away, turned over a thousand times in the air, and barely remained alive.
Then he crossed the Ovshe River from the other side, approached the frozen head of Mangadhai from behind, and said to him:
- Well, evil batar! This is the end for you. You won't torture people anymore. Now you see what our heroes are capable of.
Mangadhai sighed and said:
“I regret one thing, that I blew on you.” I should have taken a breath of air, because you would have been sitting in my stomach for a long time.
Ovshe used a sharp sword and cut off his head. There were several other smaller heads sticking out on her head. Ovshe cut them off, attached them to Aranzal’s saddle and rushed home.
When the Mangadhai learned about the death of their leader, they fled. The Mangadhai's wife set off in pursuit of Ovshe. The wheels of her cart were so large that when they were pressed into the ground, deep gorges appeared. The bulls blasted the ground with their horns with such force that mountains grew from it. Yes, it was impossible to catch up with Ovshe on his fast Aranzal.
And he rode a distance of three years in three days.
Flying like the wind, he ran to his home.
Thus the good batar Ovshe defeated the evil Mangadhai leader.
[Maralukha is a female deer.
Terme - lattices that make up the skeleton of the tent.
Mangadhai are fabulous multi-headed monsters, merciless and vengeful.
Khoron - vodka distilled several times; I]
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru