On the edge of one village there were twelve identical houses. Six huts are nearby, six huts are also nearby, just on the other side of the street. And twelve brothers lived in these huts. Each one had a wife and children, but we won’t talk about them, we won’t remember them.
So, there lived twelve brothers. One winter they gathered in the city of Sortavala for shopping. Some needed salt, some needed chintz for their wife's dresses, some needed soap, some needed boots... Each harnessed his horse, sat on the sleigh and drove off.
It’s not too far to go; night caught them on the way. They turned into an inn along the road. They began to unharness the horses. One brother says:
“Don’t forget to turn the sleigh’s shafts in the direction where we need to go.”
“Well thought out,” said the other brother.
“Tomorrow you won’t have to guess where to go,” said the third.
“Be sure to drive the horses until they reach Sortavala,” added the fourth.
The owner of the inn heard their conversation, was surprised and laughed. However, he didn’t say anything to his brothers.
And the brothers put the horses in the stable and all twelve sleighs turned with their shafts in one direction - towards Sortavala. Then we went into the house and went to bed.
As soon as the brothers fell asleep, the owner took it and turned the shafts in the other direction. He said to himself:
- I’m not doing it out of malice. Just curious - do they really know the way by the shafts?
Well, the brothers slept through the night. In the morning they began to harness the horses. They harness up and praise each other:
“If we hadn’t turned the shafts yesterday, now we wouldn’t know where to go,” says one. “When you’re driving along an unfamiliar road, the main thing is not to get lost,” says the second one.
And the twelfth said:
“One head is good, but with twelve it won’t go to waste.”
Let's go brothers. The owner looked after them, shrugged, but said nothing.
The brothers are racing their horses, hurrying to Sortavala. Suddenly the one in front says:
- Look, brothers, how familiar this place is. Exactly like what we passed yesterday. There is a birch tree near the boulder, and a ditch nearby.
“It’s definitely a similar place,” says the second one.
- There are many in the world; identical places,” says the third.
- What's surprising here! - picked up the fourth. - In our region, every tree is a birch, every stone is a boulder. And ditches come across often.
And the twelfth said:
- You should yawn less around! They drive for an hour and are silent, for another they drive and remain silent, for a third they drive - no one says a word. They just push the horses.
Suddenly the fifth brother said:
- It seems like we passed this village yesterday! All the brothers turned their heads and began to look.
“This village is not the same,” says the sixth.
“Not that one,” says the seventh.
“That village was on the left,” says the sixth one.
“On the left,” the seventh assents, “and this one, look for yourself, is on the right.”
“On the right,” says the sixth.
- Why argue there! - said the twelfth. “We have to go.” How would you not have to spend the night on the road again!
They drive again, they are silent again. The village appeared ahead again.
Then the eighth brother said:
— If I didn’t know for sure that we were going to Sortavala, I would have thought that this was our village.
“And such a hillock,” said the ninth.
“And on that edge there are six or six huts, exactly like ours,” said the tenth.
“I told you that there are many similar places in the world,” the third reminded.
“That’s what you said,” agreed the eleventh. “But you won’t find a place like ours, a village like ours, or huts like ours anywhere in the world.”
The twelfth shouted at the brothers:
- Stop scratching your tongue! Our village, not ours, we must move forward.
As soon as he had time to say this, a red dog ran up to his sleigh and wagged its tail.
Then the twelfth said:
“I don’t know whose village it is, but the dog is mine.”
“Well, since the dog is yours, so is the village,” said the first. And he turned towards his yard. The brothers never went to Sortavala.
“Rather than travel around uselessly, it’s better to stay at home,” said the twelfth brother.
And all eleven agreed with him.
And then this is what happened to the twelve brothers.
One day they went to haymaking. They waved their braids all day. There was more hay, but there seemed to be no decrease in grass. It was a bad summer that year. The brothers decided not to return home and spend the night in the field.
- How, brothers, will we go to bed? - asks one.
“Yes, we’ll lie down in a row, from youngest to oldest,” said another.
They lay down on the grass side by side. Suddenly the twelfth brother says:
- This is a mess. Everyone lies in the middle, I’m alone on the edge. It will be cold for me at night, and I am the eldest.
“And I’m on the edge,” responded the first. -And I’ll be cold, and I’m the youngest.
“Yes, this is a mess,” said the sixth.
“It’s a mess,” said the seventh, “let you lie down between us.” So you will find yourself in the middle.
As soon as the first and twelfth lay down between the sixth and seventh, the second and eleventh shouted:
- Now we are extreme! We'll be cold. They began to shift again. They just can’t lie down. They kept shifting until the first and twelfth were again the last ones.
- Why did it happen like this? - they are surprised. “Apparently, we’ll have to start over!”
Just at that time, a neighbor was driving past them on the road. He was returning from haymaking. He decided to spend the night in the village. The neighbor looks - something is wrong with the brothers. He stopped his horse, got off the cart and came closer.
The brothers saw their neighbor and were happy.
“That’s good,” they say, “maybe a kind person will advise what we should do.”
- What do you have? - asks the neighbor.
“Yes, here’s the thing,” the brothers answer, “no matter how we lie down, all two of us end up on the edge.”
“Well, it’s easy to help this grief,” the neighbor said calmly.
He took a stozhar - a pole around which a haystack is wound - and stuck it in the ground.
“Lie down next to the steward with your feet and heads out,” the neighbor said to the brothers and left.
The brothers lay down. They look - everyone is fine. The first has the twelfth and the second on the sides, the twelfth has the first and the eleventh... No one lies on the edge, everyone is in the middle.
Early in the morning, a neighbor is driving from the village to make hay. Looks, something is wrong with the brothers again - noise, arguing, almost leading to a fight.
- My leg! - shouts the seventh.
- Where is yours?! - the twelfth is angry. - Mine!
“Look, the nail on my thumb is curled, not yours, but mine,” says the seventh.
“A curled nail means it’s my foot,” the first one shouted. “I nailed the nail with an ax three years ago.” So give me my leg, and I don’t want to hear anything!
- What are you doing here? - asked the neighbor
“There’s no way to figure out the legs,” the brothers explain. “Everyone’s heads are apart, but their legs are in a heap.” It's time to mow, but we can't get up.
“And it’s no wonder we can help this grief,” said the neighbor. “Lie down a little longer, I’ll now...”
He cut the willow rods and, without saying a word to the brothers, began to hit them on their heels with rods.
Instantly the brothers jumped up. There is no time for arguing about whose legs are where. You won’t think long about how your heel is burned with a rod!
The brothers jumped on the grass, the morning dew cooled their burning soles. They got to work.
Since then, the brothers have never stayed overnight in the hayfield. They said: you can’t figure out the legs yourself, but the neighbor, who knows, will either be nearby or take a different route.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru