Бесплатный фрагмент - Oriental Fairy Tales

Nine slackers and one nimble man

Whether it was or not, but nine slackers and one Nimble lived in one city.

Nine slackers had houses near the bazaar, and the Nimble lived alone on the very outskirts of the city.

Both slackers and the Nimble made arbas. The slackers were lazy and for the whole day with difficulty they made only one arba, and the Nimble alone made nine arbas during the day.

Days were passing by.

The people in the bazaar blasphemed arbas made by the slackers and praised the Nimble`s arbas.

The Nimble`s arbas were highly valued, and no one wanted to buy arbas of slackers

Nine slackers were dizzy. They were thinking day and night, thinking, and then one of them exclaimed:

— Found!

Four slackers were hammering nails. Three of them with axes, one with a planer in his hand — and they got frozen on the site.

And the first slacker continued:

— Now I’ll go to the Nimble, praise our work, I’ll say that every day we make eighty-one arbas, nine arbas for each of us, I’ll say that we have so much money that we don’t know where to put it, and found it necessary to take him to the company. The Nimble will work for us for several days. During this time, we will sell our arbas.

“You’re right,” the slackers shouted and sent the first of them to the Nimble.

— Brother Nimble! We are very sorry for you. Do the math, one cake is enough to satisfy your hunger, and you work from morning till night, shedding sweat. Why are you torturing yourself? Give up everything. Come to us.

The Nimble refused this way and that, but the slacker did not lag behind and persuaded everything.

— All right, let’s go! The Nimble said.

They all started working together. Slackers hid from the heat in the shade. Only the Nimble, tying his forehead tightly with a handkerchief, continued sawing, planing, hammering nails.

In the evening, the Nimble wiped off his sweat, washed his hands, and counted the arbas. He made himself nine arbas, and slackers made one arba, ten in all. The Nimble was surprised, but said nothing. In the bazaar, no one bought an arba made by slackers. And the arbas that the Nimble made were sold like hot cakes.

The Nimble began to teach slackers. Nothing came of it.

The Nimble left the slackers and went to his room.

The slackers were thinking and thinking, and for a long time they could not come up with anything.

— I found it! — shouted the first slacker.

One of the slackers was hammering a nail, the rest six were putting the wheels on the axle, one was with an axe in his hands — all got frozen on the site.

The first slacker continued:

— Tonight we will burn all the arbas of the Nimble, and tomorrow there will be no arbas in the bazaar, except ours, and their prices will rise. What do you say to that?

— Very good! — said the rest of the slackers.

As soon as the Nimble left the city, the slackers set fire to his ready-made arbas.

The Nimble returned home, saw that his arbas had been burned down.

— Eh, what it was, it has gone! — he said, and as if nothing had happened, he got to work with a song.

The slackers took their arbas to sell to the bazaar and stopped by the Nimble. They see him working and even singing.

— Salom, Nimble! How are you? Is everything all right?

— Yes, everything is calm! The Nimble replied.

— We heard that your arbas had been burned down, is it true?

“True,” answered the Nimble, “my arbas should have been burned long ago, I couldn’t get ready in any way. Fortunately for me, kind people found and burned my arbas. I was very happy.

— Why? — the slackers were surprised.

— Very simple. I needed a lot of ash.

— Iye! — the slackers were surprised. — Did you say you needed ash?

“Yes and don’t tell me,” answered the Nimble, “at the bazaar, the ash from the arbas is exchanged for the gold. Weight by weight. You see,” and he showed the saddlebag, “I have just brought the gold for which the ash was exchanged.

The heads of the slackers went round. They returned home as soon as possible, burned their arbas, and poured the ash into saddlebags and took them to the bazaar.

— Who needs ash from the arbas? — the slackers began to shout in the bazaar.

— Good ash from a good arba is for sale!!!

— One hurjin of ash is worth one hurjin of gold!

— Ho-ho-ho!!! Come on, come on!!!

People were laughing until they cried, and then they grabbed sticks and stones and drove all the slackers out of the bazaar.

The slackers got very angry. They decided to take revenge on the Nimble.

The slackers got into the Nimble`s yard at midnight, they wanted to beat him. In the dark they came across a donkey, and it began to kick them. The slackers got angry and began to beat the donkey. They beat the poor animal so that he died.

The next morning, the Nimble came back home. He sees that his donkey is lying dead. The Nimble was very upset, put the donkey on an arba and took it to the field.

The Nimble drove up to the big current, took off the donkey and put it near a stack of un-threshed wheat.

The owner of the current, the pawnbroker Salimbai, was sitting nearby and having breakfast.

Having seen a donkey near a wheat stack he began to shout:

— Posht! Posht! Go away! Go away!

And the donkey is standing still there and does not move.

Without saying anything, Salimbai ran up and swung at the Nimble.

The Nimble dodged, the boy hit the dead donkey on the back with a stick. The donkey’s corpse, of course, fell to the ground.

“Wai,” the Nimble shouted. — You, bai, killed my graceful, strong donkey.

Bai Salimbai was scared.

“My soul, Nimble,” he began to beg, “don’t shout so loudly. It’s just that your donkey’s death hour has come. You know what happened, what was supposed to happen. Don’t shout, let no one know about it!

But the Nimble shouted:

— No, you will reimburse my losses. You beat me, killed a donkey, now it`s the end to you.

And with a stick he rushed at bai Salimbai.

— Wait, I’ll pay whatever you want!

— Gold! — said the Nimble.

— Hop! — said bai and counted out to the Nimble, — ten ducats.

The Nimble went home. On the way home he met slackers.

— Salom, our darling, Nimble! — said the slackers.

— Salom! the Nimble replied.

— How do you do! What’s new?

“There’s a lot of news,” the Nimble replied. — My donkey died last night, I took the corpse to the bazaar, sold it. Look at how much I got for the dead meat.

The Nimble untied the purse and showed the golden coins.

Having seen the gold, the slackers’ eyes bulged.

They ran home, slaughtered their donkeys, and dragged their corpses to the bazaar to sell.

The slackers came to the bazaar and began to shout:

— Who needs dead donkeys? We exchange them for gold!

The people were angry:

— What kind of outrage is this? Who sells dead donkeys?

The people beat the slackers and drove them out of the bazaar.

The Nimble did not have time to get home. He sees all nine slackers running.

The Nimble thought:

“There are nine of them, and I am the only one,” and ran into the plain. The slackers ran after him.

But the Nimble was running very fast, that’s why they called him the Nimble, and he was far ahead of the slackers.

The Nimble is running across the plain, and bai Salimbai is driving sheep towards him.

— Hey, — shouts the bai, — where are you running to?

— Don’t you know — I’m being appointed as a shah!

Bai was worried:

— They want to appoint you, a poor man, as a king? Why on earth that would be. Oh, you are an empty pumpkin! I’m bai. Let them appoint me as a king,” he said.

“If so, run straight to that hillock over there,” said the Nimble.

Bai really wanted to become a shah and ran at full speed.

And the Nimble turned the robe inside out, tied a handkerchief over his face and sat down in the drain.

Then the slackers ran up and, out of breath, asked the Nimble:

“Did someone pass by here?”

— Passed, passed, — the Nimble answered holding his cheek as if his teeth hurt.

— How long ago?

“No, just now,” said the Nimble and pointed to the bai running in the distance.

— Yes, he is running there.

The slackers looked into the distance, saw the bai and rushed to catch him up.

The Nimble turned the robe over again, took the handkerchief off his head and went home with a song.

And the slackers, people say, are still running across the plain — looking for the Nimble.

Smarty daughter

Once upon a time there lived an old man with a daughter of about twelve years old. All the good the old man had: one camel, one horse and one donkey.

The old man chopped firewood in the mountains and took it to the city to sell it, and his daughter took care of the household.

One day the old man loaded firewood on his camel and came to the market. A fat bai approached him and asked:

— How much is firewood that you sell?

The old man asked for three tenges.

Fat bai said:

— Take “as it really is” ten tenges, just take the firewood to my house.

The old man gladly agreed and brought firewood to the yard to the fat bai.

The old man received the promised ten tenges, piled firewood on the ground and wanted to leave.

Suddenly the fat bai said:

— Tie the camel!

The old man was surprised

— That camel is mine.

— No, — said the fat bai. — I bought firewood “as it really is” along with a camel. I would pay you, fool, ten tenges.

They were arguing, and arguing and finally went to the court to the kaziy.

Kaziy asks the old man:

— Is it true that you sold firewood “as it really is”?

The old man says:

— Yes, only, mister kaziy, a camel costs three hundred tenges.

— Well, it’s none of my business. It’s his own fault, he shouldn’t have agreed to sell firewood “as it really is”.

The kaziy ordered to give the camel to the fat bai, and the old man went home with tears. He just didn’t say anything to his daughter.