Sosruko grew quickly. His peers were still lying in their cradles, and he was already running around the yard and playing alchiki. For him, the earth was his bed, the sky was his blanket, and his food was flint.
The children who ate the marrow of bones and honey from mountain hives were afraid of this strong, extraordinary boy. As soon as they angered him, he began to sparkle.
For some time, little Sosruko got tired of playing alchiki, he fell in love with the forge Tlepsha, and he began to often visit the blacksmith god. Tlepsh once told him:
“Come on, my boy, blow up the bellows.”
As Sosruko inflated the bellows, the entire forge fell apart, everything that was in the iron forge rose into the air, and only the heavy anvil did not budge.
Tlepsh was frightened at first, and then delighted. He decided to test the power of Sosruko:
“Come on, my boy, try to pull my anvil out of the ground.”
The anvil of Tlepsha was driven so deep that it rested on the seventh bottom of the earth. Only he was called a Nart, only the Narts allowed him on their council, on their Khasa, who could at least slightly move the anvil of Tlepsh.
Sosruko grabbed the anvil with his young hands, pulled, but didn’t even move it. He pulled again, and the next time he couldn’t move it. And for the third time I couldn’t.
Tlepsh said sadly:
- No, Sosruko, you are obviously still a child, not yet an expert. Return to your mother, sit by the warm fire and gnaw on your flint—it’s too early for you to think about Nart affairs.
When Sosruko came home, Sataney saw that her son was gloomy and sad. He did not answer his mother’s question, sat down by the warm fireplace, took the flint and began to gnaw at it in rage, and sparks flew from the flint in all directions.
The next day, early in the cold morning, the boy snuck into Tlepsh’s forge before the owner arrived. He grabbed the huge Tlepsh anvil with his hands and pulled it. The anvil moved.
“I’ve had enough of this for today!” said Sosruko. “And now I need to cool myself down.”
He went down to the river, lay down on the ice, and the ice melted because his damask body was hot from work. The ice melted, and spring waters flowed noisily among the winter shores.
The next morning, Sosruko again made his way into the forge before the owner arrived, again grabbed a huge anvil, pulled - and pulled it out, tore it out of the seventh bottom of the earth. He threw the anvil at the entrance to the forge and went home.
The blacksmith god came to the forge, but could not enter it: an anvil lay at the entrance. The most powerful heroes of the Nart Country - and they could only move it a little, even Tlepsh himself was not able to lift it, and now it lay at the entrance, and the dust of the seventh bottom of the earth was visible at its base. Tlepsh exclaimed:
“An extraordinary, strong husband has appeared in the world!” The earth has never known such a heroic figure. Oh, Psatha, god of life, may this man be a champion of good, may he not be a messenger of evil, may the beginning of his life become the bottom of bad people?
When Tlepsh said this, three Nart brothers approached his forge.
- May you forever be with fire! - the Tlepsha brothers greeted.
- And I wish the same for you! - Tlepsh answered.
- We are having a great argument. Judge us, Tlepsh,” the eldest began. “We, brothers, were born on the same day: I - in the morning, the middle one - at noon, the youngest - in the evening.” We mow hay in the high mountain meadows, we mow together, like brothers. And then we notice that the youngest is ahead of us. He will stand in a row with us, wave his scythe two or three times, and lo and behold, he has gone far ahead. Let's put him behind him, swing his scythe five or six times, and lo and behold, he's caught up? And we run away from him, otherwise he will knock us down! “That’s what our youngest is like!” - we said. To be honest, I got angry, and the middle one got angry too.
“How can you not get angry,” the middle one picked up, “if the younger brother defeats the older ones!” Once upon a time, Tlepsh, it was like this. It was at noon. We stuck our scythes into the ground and sat down in our hut to have lunch. Suddenly we see that the younger one’s scythe fell with the point downwards and began to mow itself. She will meet trees on her way - trees in half, a scythe will run into stones - stones in half!
- So that’s the reason! - said Tlepsh. - The strength is not in the brother!
“Yes, the strength is not in me,” confirmed the younger brother. “We decided: to make a good sword out of this braid.” We just started an argument: who will get this sword? It should belong to me, shouldn’t it, Tlepsh?
Tlepsh silently picked up the scythe. He recognized it: it had been worked by Dabech, his teacher. The first Nart blacksmith forged this scythe for Thagolej himself, the god of fertility. Tlepsh realized that the brothers might quarrel over the sword, and said to the three sledges:
“I will make a sword from this braid, but I’m afraid you will quarrel over the sword.” And a quarrel is the beginning of a fight, a fight is the beginning of enmity, enmity is the beginning of death. You got this braid from your father, each of you has the same rights to it, so I decide this way. You see, my anvil lies at the entrance, and I cannot enter the forge. It is necessary to move the anvil to its original place and drive it to its previous depth. Whoever copes with this will get the sword that I will make from your braid. Do you agree?
“We agree,” answered the Nart brothers.
- And when you agree, get down to business! - exclaimed Tlepsh. - Let the eldest begin.
The elder grabbed the anvil and pulled, but could not move it. I pulled again - nothing happened. And the third time nothing happened.
The middle brother approached the anvil. He pulled - no, he couldn’t move her. He pulled again - the anvil did not move. The third time he pulled, he slightly moved the anvil.
The younger brother came up. He pulled once and moved the anvil. He pulled again and lifted it a little. He pulled it a third time - he carried her one step and fell to the ground with her.
“And you are not able to lift my anvil,” said Tlepsh. “You, brothers, have lost your right to the sword.”
“We did what we could,” the brothers answered. “The Nart’s word is stronger than steel.” To be, Tlepsh, your way. It's a shame, but what can you do? Apparently, none of us is destined to wield a good sword.
At this time, Sosruko approached the forge. For a long time he had been looking at his brothers from afar as they tried to lift the anvil. The boy turned to Tlepsh:
- Let me, Tlepsh, try my strength.
The elder brother did not allow Tlepsh to answer and shouted:
-What are you trying here? Go, taste the taste of mother's milk!
The middle brother chimed in:
“You’ll overstrain yourself, baby, your guts are thin.” Go home!
And the younger one laughed:
- Ho-ho-ho! How long ago have you hatched? Go, try your strength on a millet churek!
Sosruko got angry. He ran to the anvil, grabbed it, pulled it, lifted it, carried it to its original place and drove it into the ground. He drove it so hard that the base of the anvil passed through the seventh bottom of the earth, passed through the eighth bottom and rested on the ninth, and Sosruko, without even looking at the three brothers, went home to his mother.
- This is the baby! - the brothers marveled and vowed to tell the Nartov Khasa about the miracle they had seen. Tlepsh was so pleased with their oath that he told them:
- Brothers-narts! In honor of this miracle, I forge each one a sword from good steel. And from this braid of Dabech, made for the god of fertility himself, I will make a sword and give it to the most worthy of the Narts. Whichever of you comes first to my blacksmith in the morning will receive his sword. Do you agree?
- We agree, wise Tlepsh! - the brothers were happy. They jumped on their horses and galloped to Khasa Nartov to sing there the glory of the New Man - Sosruko. And Tlepsh began to forge swords from selected steel.
In three days, Tlepsh forged three swords and distributed them to his Nart brothers. After this, Tlepsh did not leave the forge for nine days and nine nights; for nine days and nine nights he forged a sword from the braid of the god of fertility.
Having forged a glorious sword, he hung it in his forge.
* * *
Sosruko sat by the fireplace, languishing from idleness.
- Why are you so boring, my boy? - Sataney asked him sympathetically.
- If I’m not bored, then who will be? - Sosruko answered. - I have neither friends nor good deeds. I’m sitting by the fireplace and raking away the ashes. One can envy our dog: she’s busy with business, doesn’t let strangers in, barks at passers-by. And I’m sitting idle, and I don’t have anything to do with it.
“My only son, may you become the strongest of the children of the earth!” exclaimed Satan. “You are still young, it’s too early for you to make enemies, that’s why you don’t have friends yet.” And where will I find friends for you? All the sledges have matured, there is not one of your age among them, and those that exist are still in their cradles.
“Mother,” said Sosruko, “I am not looking for an ordinary friend, it is not the children of the Narts that I need as friends.” I need a friend who would not become dull in battle, who would not falter in a fast run!
Sataney understood the words of her Sosruko and went to Tlepsh and complained to the blacksmith god:
- My son does not give me peace. He was fired up with a desire to wander around the world, to know all the roads, all the paths of the Nart Country. He demands a horse and a sword. Please advise, Tlepsh, what should I do? I’m afraid that my boy is still young and not yet strong!
Tlepsh turned his face to her, on which the reflections of the flame played, and thundered:
- You are mistaken, Sataney, your son is in the prime of his life. His face is a boy, that’s true, but his soul is the soul of a husband. If he wanted to explore all the roads, all the paths of the Nart Country, then let him hit the road. If he needs a sword, send the boy to me.
When Sosruko, radiant and happy, ran into the forge, Tlepsh asked him:
-What kind of sword do you need?
“I need a sword that is neither long nor short, so that it can strike nearby enemies without a miss and terrify distant enemies,” answered Sosruko.
Then Tlepsh took a sword made from the braid of the god of fertility from the wall, handed this sword to little Sosruko and said:
“In the Land of Narts, only you are worthy to wear it, so wear it with honor!”
“May your years last, Tlepsh!” exclaimed Sosruko. “I swear, I will not disgrace the sword you made from the scythe!”
- What else do you need, what else do you need?
- I wish I had a horse, Tlepsh!
- Know: Satan has a good horse. Tell your mother that I have blessed you on your journey, and she will give you a horse.
Sosruko ran home, clutching Tlepsh’s sword to his hip. Sataney saw her boy, saw Tlepsh’s sword on his thigh and said affectionately and sadly:
- I know, I know what you need, my boy! If Tlepsh recognized you as worthy of a noble sword, then I will give you a horse. Let's go!
Sataney led Sosruko along a remote gorge and brought him to a cave. The entrance to the cave was blocked with a stone of unprecedented size. It was an abra stone. Satanei said:
- Sosruko, my light! If you can roll away the abra stone and enter the cave, you will find a horse there. If you can mount this horse, it will be yours.
The boy threw away the abra-stone with one jerk and entered the cave. He was deafened for a moment by the furious neighing of the horse, blinded for a moment by the sparks that flew from the siliceous soil, because the horse angrily clattered its hooves. It seemed like a mountain had collapsed and the whole world shook!
Sosruko, according to Nart custom, approached the horse from the left side, but the horse reared up and rushed at the boy to finish him off with one blow of its hooves. Then Sosruko approached him from the right side, but even then the horse did not let him approach. Satanei whispered:
“My dear Sosruko, that’s why the horse won’t let you near him because he doesn’t recognize you as a mature husband.”
How Sosruko began to boil at these words, how he jumped, how he jumped onto the horse’s ridge in one leap, how he grabbed the mane, how he screamed: “Hey, horsemen, watch out!” - and galloped along the gorge.
“Woe is me,” poor Satan prayed, “the horse will kill my son!”
But before the mother had time to look after her son, the horse rose up like a star and, like a star, disappeared behind the clouds. There, in the sky, the horse decided to throw off its rider so that he would fall to the ground and crash. What the horse didn’t do! And he reared up in the air, and threw himself headfirst into the abyss, and rose up again, and galloped upside down, but Sosruko still held on to his mane and did not fall.
Then the horse rushed from an unprecedented height to that place of the ocean where the raging waves of the seven seas merge: the horse hoped that the strong blows of the waves would sweep the little rider off his ridge. But that was not the case: Sosruko held tightly to the horse’s mane and did not fall!
Then the horse galloped along steep cliffs, along rocky cliffs, along dark gorges, and decided to fly through that mountain ring through which only a swallow had flown. The horse thought: “Now the rider will fall!” But that was not the case: the boy held onto his mane tightly and did not fall!
On the seventh day of frantic running, the horse was tired. Sosruko shouted:
- Well, well, get going! If you’re already tired of frolicking, then I’m just now overcome with enthusiasm!
But the horse did not obey the rider, stood in place, breathing heavily, and steam from his nostrils spread across the dogwood bushes. Then Sosruko cut dogwood branches and broke them off on the horse’s back. And then the horse spoke:
- I swear by Amysh, the god of animals, I will be your faithful horse if you become a real sled!
- If so, move on! - Sosruko ordered and galloped home.
Satanei ran out to meet the young rider. Tears of joy glistened in her eyes. She exclaimed:
“My son, my light, I have already mourned your death!”
Sosruko dismounted, tied his horse to a hitching post and said:
“Mother, don’t mourn me, but prepare travel supplies for me.” Prepare so many of them that they will not be difficult to wear, but will last for a long time. I think it’s time for me to go on a long journey, to experience the human world.
So Sosruko spoke, and Sataney looked at him, and her face shone with pride and happiness.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru