Once upon a time there lived a weaver. All day long he sat in his workshop and weaved karbos. But he got bored of sitting at the machine and decided to take a walk around the world. He threw the khurjin over his shoulder and went out into the field.
He walked and walked and saw a turtle crawling. He really liked the turtle.
“I’ll take it with me, maybe it will come in handy,” the weaver thought and put the turtle in the khurjin.
He walked and walked further and saw a horse’s tail lying by the road.
“An interesting thing, I’ll take it with me - maybe it will come in handy,” and the weaver put the horse’s tail in his khurjin.
He walked and walked further and saw a bull’s horn lying in the field.
“That’s the thing! I’ll take it with me, maybe it will come in handy.” He put the horn in the khurjin and moved on.
He walked and walked and came to a high fortress with an iron gate forty arshins high.
“What kind of fortress is this?” he said and knocked on the gate. Nobody responded.
The weaver knocked on the gate again. Then a loud noise came from the fortress, and a rough voice shouted:
-Who dared to knock on the fortress of the divas? Who are you? The weaver shook with fear and could not utter a word.
The divas thought that it was the hero, the conqueror of the divas, who had come, and they wanted to know what his strength was.
One of the divas threw his louse, which was the size of a cockroach, at the weaver.
- Now you can judge what divas we are. Throw us yours too - let's see what a giant you are!
The weaver took the turtle out of the khurjin and threw it over the wall to the divas. The divas were scared.
“If his louse is like that, then what is he like!” they said. Another diva threw the hair weaver from his mustache. He was the size of a rat
tail
The weaver, in response, took a horse's tail from the khurjin, swung it and threw it over the wall of the fortress. The divas saw a horse's tail, thought it was a hero's mustache, and were terribly scared.
“This is the whisker of some monster!” they said. “Well, let’s test it a third time.” Let's ask him to cast his vote.
And the biggest diva roared at the top of his lungs:
- Hey, giant! Give us your vote!
From the terrible roar of the diva, the weaver could barely stand on his feet and completely lost his voice. Then he grabbed his khurjin, took out a horn from it and blew it with all his might.
The sound of the horn spread far and wide. There was a commotion in the fortress of the divas.
“This hero will destroy us!” the divas shouted and ran wherever they could.
The weaver stood and stood and listened—there was silence in the fortress. He pushed the gate, it opened, and the weaver entered the fortress. There, in a distant locked room, he found a girl so beautiful that he had never seen before.
- What kind of hero are you? Even the divas were afraid of you!” the girl was amazed. She told the weaver that the divas kidnapped her from her parents and forced her to serve them.
The weaver freed the girl and went with her to her parents. Immediately everyone in the village knew that the famous hero, the winner of the divas, had come, and began to ask him for help.
A huge bear got into the habit of visiting this village.
“Apparently, only you can cope with this bear,” the village residents said to the weaver.
The weaver was afraid, but could not refuse this business. He ordered a hole to be dug under the mulberry tree.
“I will watch the bear in this hole,” he said. In the evening, the weaver climbed into the hole and hid there.
At midnight he heard the roar of a bear. The weaver shook with fear as if in a fever. The bear walked straight towards the hole. When the bear's head appeared at the pit, the weaver screamed wildly. Out of surprise, the bear rose on its hind legs, pulled back, and its head got stuck between the branches of a mulberry tree.
No matter how hard the bear tried, he could not free his head. So he hung on the tree.
In the morning, the residents of the village were amazed by the strength of the hero, who dealt with a huge bear. And everyone praised the winner.
After some time, this village was attacked by robbers. The villagers ran to the weaver and said:
- All hope is on you, save us, hero!
The weaver never held a weapon in his hands; he was afraid even of the sight of it, but he could not refuse. He ordered the oldest, skinny horse to be brought to him, dressed in all white, sat on the horse, ordered himself to be tied tightly to the saddle with ropes and rode out of the village.
Although his horse was unprepossessing, it was a fighting horse. As soon as he saw the enemy horsemen from afar, he rushed at them at full speed. The weaver could not stop the horse. Out of fear, he grabbed hold of a young poplar tree growing by the road. The horse rushed, and the poplar remained in the weaver’s hand.
The weaver tied to the saddle, holding a poplar tree with one hand, rushed straight towards the enemies. In desperation, with his other hand he grabbed a young elm tree that he had come across along the way. The horse raced without stopping. The uprooted elm tree remained in the rider’s hand. Here the enemies see: a hero is rushing towards them, all in white, with a poplar in one hand, with an elm in the other. He brought such horror to the enemies that they turned back and fled in different directions. The weaver's horse stopped only when the enemies were all out of sight.
The whole people were amazed by the power of the hero. The winner was greeted with great honor. But the weaver was tired of being considered a hero and constantly living in fear. He thought to himself: “Three times I managed to jump out of trouble, but on the fourth I don’t know if I will succeed!” It’s much calmer to be a weaver!”
At night, the weaver quietly left the village and went to his home. He returned to his workshop, happily sat down at his loom and began to weave karbos again.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru