Teryoshechka

Life was hard for an old man and his wife! They had lived all their lives without having children. While they were young, they had managed somehow, but now both…

Life was hard for an old man and his wife! They had lived all their lives without having children. While they were young, they had managed somehow, but now both had grown old and had no one even to bring them a drink. They grieved and wept. So they made a little block of wood, wrapped it in swaddling cloths and put it in a cradle. They rocked it and sang lullabies—and instead of the block of wood, a little son began to grow in the swaddling cloths: Teryoshechka, a sweet little berry! The boy grew and grew, and his understanding grew with him. His father made him a little boat. Teryoshechka went fishing, and his mother began bringing him milk and curds. She would come to the bank and call:

“Teryoshechka, my little son! Sail, sail to the bank. It is I, your mother; I’ve brought you milk.”

Teryoshechka would hear her voice from far away, come to the bank, tip out his fish, eat and drink, then set off fishing again.

One day his mother told him:

“My darling little son! Be careful: the witch Chuvilikha is watching for you. Don’t fall into her claws.”

She said this and went away. Then Chuvilikha came to the bank and called in a dreadful voice:

“Teryoshechka, my little son! Sail, sail to the bank. It is I, your mother; I’ve brought you milk.”

But Teryoshechka knew the difference and said:

“Farther, farther away, my little boat! That is not my own dear mother’s voice, but the wicked witch Chuvilikha’s.”

Chuvilikha heard him, ran off, found an expert and obtained a voice like Teryoshechka’s mother’s. His mother came and began calling her son in her light, high voice:

“Teryoshechka, my little son, sail, sail to the bank.”

Teryoshechka heard her and said:

“Closer, closer, my little boat! That is my own dear mother’s voice.”

His mother gave him food and drink and sent him off fishing again.

The witch Chuvilikha came and sang in the voice she had learned, exactly like his own dear mother. Teryoshechka mistook her for his mother and came to the bank. She seized him, stuffed him into a sack and rushed away. She brought him to a hut on chicken’s legs and told her daughter to roast him, then hurried off again in search of more prey. But Teryoshechka was no fool and would not let the girl have her way. He put her in the oven to roast in his place and climbed a tall oak tree himself.

Chuvilikha came running back, dashed into the hut, ate and drank her fill, then went out into the yard and rolled about, saying:

“I’ll roll about and tumble, now I’ve eaten Teryoshechka’s flesh!”

But he called to her from the oak:

“Roll about and tumble, witch—you’ve eaten your own daughter’s flesh!”

She heard him, raised her head and looked in every direction. No one was there! Again she chanted:

“I’ll roll about and tumble, now I’ve eaten Teryoshechka’s flesh!”

And he answered:

“Roll about and tumble, witch—you’ve eaten your own daughter’s flesh!”

She took fright, looked up and saw him in the tall oak. She sprang up and rushed to a blacksmith:

“Blacksmith, blacksmith! Forge me a little axe.”

The blacksmith forged her an axe and said:

“Don’t chop with the sharp edge; chop with the blunt back.”

She obeyed, struck and struck, chopped and chopped, but achieved nothing. She pressed herself against the tree and sank her teeth into it. The tree began to crack.

Geese-swans were flying across the sky. Teryoshechka saw the danger, saw the geese-swans and began begging and pleading with them:

Geese-swans, take me with you,

Set me upon your little wings,

Carry me to my father and mother;

There you will be given food and drink.

But the geese-swans answered:

“Ka-ga! Another flock is coming, hungrier than we are. They will take you and carry you home.”

The witch kept gnawing, sending chips flying, while the oak cracked and swayed. Another flock came flying by. Teryoshechka called again:

“Geese-swans! Take me with you, set me upon your little wings and carry me to my father and mother. There you will be given food and drink.”

“Ka-ga!” answered the geese. “A pecked little gosling is flying behind us. He will take you and carry you home.”

The gosling did not come, and the tree cracked and swayed. The witch would gnaw for a while, look up at Teryoshechka, lick her lips and set to work again. Any moment now he would fall into her grasp!

Luckily, the pecked little gosling came flying along, flapping his wings. Teryoshechka begged and coaxed him:

“My dear goose-swan, take me with you, set me upon your little wings and carry me to my father and mother. There you will be given food and drink and washed in clean water.”

The pecked little gosling took pity on him, held out his wings, gave a flutter and flew away with Teryoshechka. They flew to his dear father’s window and settled on the grass. The old woman had made pancakes and invited guests to a meal in Teryoshechka’s memory. She was saying:

“This pancake is for you, dear guest; this one for you, old man; and this one for me!”

From beneath the window, Teryoshechka called:

“And what about me?”

“Look, old man! Who is asking for a pancake out there?”

The old man went out, saw Teryoshechka, embraced him and brought him to his mother. What hugging there was! They fed the pecked little gosling well, gave him plenty to drink and set him free. From that day on he spread his wings wide, flew ahead of all the others and remembered Teryoshechka.