The fairy tale Ilya Muromets goes free. Ilya Muromets and the filthy Idol

In ancient times, the peasant Ivan Timofeevich lived near the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo, with his wife Efrosinya Yakovlevna.

They had one son, Ilya.

His father and mother loved him, but they only cried, looking at him: for thirty years Ilya had been lying on the stove, not moving his arm or leg. And the hero Ilya is tall, and has a bright mind, and a keen eye, but his legs don’t support him - they’re like logs lying there, not moving.

Lying on the stove, Ilya hears his mother crying, his father sighing, the Russian people complaining: enemies are attacking Rus', fields are being trampled, people are being killed, children are being orphaned. Robbers prowl along the roads, they do not allow people either passage or passage. The Serpent Gorynych flies into Rus' and drags the girls into his lair.

Gorky Ilya, hearing about all this, complains about his fate:

Oh, you, my weak legs, oh, my weak hands! If I were healthy, I wouldn’t give my native Rus' offense to enemies and robbers!

So the days went by, the months rolled by...

One day, father and mother went into the forest to uproot stumps, pull out roots - to prepare the field for plowing. And Ilya lies alone on the stove, looking out the window.

Suddenly he sees three beggar wanderers approaching his hut. They stood at the gate, knocked with an iron ring and said:

Get up, Ilya, open the gate.

You, wanderers, joke evil jokes: I’ve been sitting on the stove for thirty years, I can’t get up.

Get up, Ilyushenka!

Ilya rushed and jumped off the stove, stood on the floor and couldn’t believe his luck.

Come on, take a walk, Ilya!

Ilya stepped once, stepped again - his legs held him tightly, his legs carried him easily.

Ilya was overjoyed; he couldn’t say a word with joy. And the Kaliki passers-by say to him:

Bring me some cold water, Ilyusha.

Ilya brought a bucket of cold water.

The wanderer poured water into the ladle:

Drink, Ilya. This bucket contains the water of all the rivers, all the lakes of Mother Rus'.

Ilya drank and sensed heroic strength within himself. And the Kaliki ask him:

Do you feel a lot of strength in yourself?

A lot, wanderers. If only I had a shovel, I could plow all the land.

Drink, Ilya, the rest. In that remnant of the whole earth there is dew: from the green meadows, from tall forests, from grain fields. Drink.

Ilya drank the rest.

Do you have a lot of strength in you now?

Oh, you walking Kaliki, I have so much strength that if there were a ring in the sky, I would grab onto it and turn over the whole Russian land.

You have too much power. You have to reduce it, otherwise the earth won’t carry you. Bring some more water.

Ilya walked on the water, but the earth really couldn’t carry him: his foot was stuck in the ground, in the swamp, he grabbed an oak tree - the oak tree was uprooted, the chain from the well, like a thread, tore into pieces.

Ilya steps quietly, and the floorboards break under him. Ilya speaks in a whisper, and the doors are ripped off their hinges.

Ilya brought water, the wanderers poured another ladle:

Drink, Ilya!

Ilya drank well water.

How much power do you have now?

I'm half strong.

Well, that will be yours, well done. You, Ilya, will be a great hero, fight and fight with the enemies of your native land, with robbers and monsters. Protect widows, orphans, little children. Just never, Ilya, argue with Svyatogor - the earth carries him through force. Don't quarrel with Mikula Selyaninovich - mother earth loves him. Don’t go against Volga Vseslavyevich yet - he won’t take him by force, but by cunning and wisdom. And now goodbye, Ilya.

Ilya bowed to the passers-by, and they left for the outskirts.

And Ilya took an ax and went to the fields and meadows to his father and mother. He sees that a small place has been cleared of tree stumps, and his father and mother, tired from hard work, are sleeping soundly: the people are old, and the work is hard.

Ilya began to clear the forest - only chips flew. Old oaks are felled with one blow, young oaks are torn from the ground by their roots.

In three hours he cleared as much field as the entire village could not clear in three days. He destroyed a great field, lowered the trees into a deep river, stuck an ax into an oak stump, grabbed a shovel and a rake and dug up and leveled the wide field - just know, sow it with grain!

Father and mother woke up, were surprised, delighted, kind words we remembered the old wanderers.

And Ilya went to look for a horse.

He went outside the outskirts and saw: a peasant was leading a red, shaggy, mangy foal. The entire price of the foal is a penny, and the man demands exorbitant money for him: fifty rubles and a half.

Ilya bought a foal, brought it home, and put it in the stable; I fattened him with white wheat, watered him with spring water, cleaned him, groomed him, and laid him with fresh straw.

Three months later Ilya Burushku became morning dawn take to the meadows. A foal rolled around in the dawn dew - it became a heroic horse.

Ilya led him to a high tyn. The horse began to play, dance, turn its head, shake its mane. He began to jump over the tine back and forth. He jumped over ten times without hitting him with his hoof. Ilya put his heroic hand on Burushka - the horse did not waver, the horse did not move.

Good horse! - says Ilya. - He will be my faithful comrade.

Ilya began looking for his sword in his hand. As soon as he squeezes the hilt of a sword in his fist, the hilt will crush and crumble. There is no sword in Ilya's hand. Ilya threw the swords to the women - to pinch a splinter. He himself went to the forge, forged three arrows for himself, each arrow weighing a whole pound. He made himself a tight bow, took a long spear and also a damask club.

Ilya got ready and went to his father and mother:

Let me go, father and mother, to the capital city of Kyiv, to Prince Vladimir. I will serve Rus' with my native faith and truth, and protect the Russian land from enemy enemies.

Speaks old Ivan Timofeevich:

I bless you for good deeds, but I don’t bless you for bad deeds. Defend our Russian land not for gold, not for self-interest, but for honor, for heroic glory. Don’t shed human blood in vain, don’t shed your mother’s tears, and don’t forget that you come from a black, peasant family.

Ilya bowed to his father and mother to the damp ground and went to saddle Burushka-Kosmatushka. He put felt on the horse, and on the felt - sweatshirts, and then a Cherkasy saddle with twelve silk girths, and with a thirteenth iron girth, not for beauty, but for strength.

Ilya wanted to try his strength.

He drove up to the Oka River, rested his shoulder on a high mountain that was on the shore, and dumped it into the Oka River. The mountain blocked the riverbed and the river began to flow in a new way.

Ilya took a crust of rye bread, dropped it into the Oka River, and the Oke River Himself said:

And thank you, Mother Oka River, for giving water and feeding Ilya of Muromets.

As a farewell, he took a small handful of his native land with him, sat on his horse, waved his whip...

People saw Ilya jump up on his horse, but they didn’t see where he galloped. Only dust rose across the field in a column.

So Ilya grabbed the horse with his whip, Burushka-Kosmatushka took off, jumped a mile and a half. Where the horses' hooves struck, there flowed a spring of living water. At the key Ilyusha raw oak cut it down, placed the frame over the key, wrote the following words on the frame: “A Russian hero rode here, peasant son Ilya Ivanovich."

In the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo, there lived two brothers. The larger brother had a rather tall wife, she was neither big nor small in stature, but she gave birth to a son, whom she named Ilya, and the people named her Ilya Muromets. Ilya Muromets did not walk with his feet for thirty-three years, he sat in a seat. One hot summer, the parents went to the field to farm, mow the grass, and they carried Ilyushenka out and sat him down on the grass near the yard. He sits. Three wanderers come up to him and speak.

Give alms.

And he says:

Go into the house and take whatever you want. I haven’t walked for thirty-three years; I’ve been sitting for years.

One speaks.

Get up and go.

He got up.

What do you want?

Which is not a pity.

He scooped up a bucket and a half of green wine.

Drink it yourself.

He didn’t say a word, he drank it in one breath.

Go get some more.

He brings it.

Drink it yourself.

He drank it all in one breath.

They ask him:

How strong do you feel in yourself?

Like this good people, that if there was a pole with one end in the sky, the other end driven into the ground, and a ring, I would turn it.

They looked at each other.

That's a lot for him. Go get some more. I brought some more. He drank it in one breath.

Now how?

I feel like there's only half left.

Well, that's enough for you.

He's from great joy went to see them off and said:

I sense heroic strength within me, where can I get a horse now?

Here on way back the man will lead the planer (the horse is two years old, that means) to sell, you buy it, just don’t haggle, give as much as he asks. Just fatten him up for three months with white-spring wheat, water him with spring water and let him fly at three dawns on silk grass, and then on a silk rope and let him fly here and there through an iron tine. Here's your horse. Fight with whomever you want, you won’t die in battle. Just don’t fight with Svyatogor, the hero.

Ilyushenka accompanied them far beyond the village. On the way back he sees his father and mother working as peasants. They can't believe their eyes.

He asks:

Let me mow it down.

He took the scythe and began to wave it, before they had time to look around - the whole steppe was lying down. Speaks:

I got drunk.

Here I lay down to rest. Woke up and went. Lo and behold, a man is walking, leading a planer, he remembered.

Great!

Hello, dear fellow!

How far are you leading the planer?

Sell.

Sell ​​it to me.

How many?

Twenty rubles.

He gave it, didn’t say a word, took it from the floor and took it home.

He brought him home, put him in the stable and filled him with white wheat. So he fed him for three months, gave him spring water to drink, released him onto the silk grass at three dawns, took him out onto the silk rope, the horse flew there - the ships flew over the iron tine like a bird. Well, here's a heroic horse for him. That's what really happened.

Ilya Muromets fought with the Nightingale the Robber, and he [Ilya Muromets] defeated him. The horse under him was heroic, like a fierce beast, his move was swift. He throws his hind hooves eighteen miles beyond the front. He stood at Matins in Chernigov, and arrived in Kyiv-grad in time for mass.

One day I was driving along the road, it turned out that the road diverged in three directions and on this road there was a stone, and on the stone there was an inscription:

“If you go to the left, you’ll be married; if you go to the right, you’ll be rich; if you go straight, you’ll be killed.”

He thought:

The time has not yet come to get married, and I don’t need my wealth. It is inappropriate for the Russian hero Ilya Muromets to acquire wealth, but it is appropriate for him to save the poor and orphans, protect, and help in everything. Let me go, where death cannot be avoided. After all, in battle there is no death for me, it is not written.

And I went straight. He rode and rode through the wild steppe, there was a dense forest ahead, he rode through this dense forest. He rode through the dense forest from morning until noon. I arrived at a clearing, there stands a huge oak tree with three girths, thirty heroes are sitting under it, and thirty horses are grazing in the clearing. They saw Ilya Muromets and made a noise.

Why are you here, you worthless man? We are heroes of a noble family, but you, peasant, can be seen three miles away. Death to you!

Ilya Muromets put a red-hot arrow on his bow, and as soon as he hit the oak tree, the chips flew, the whole oak tree was smashed into splinters. He beat the heroes and slammed him with an oak tree. Ilya Muromets turned his horse and rode back and wrote on the stone:

“Whoever wrote: if he passes, he will be killed - it is not true, the path is free for all passers-by and passers-by.”

He thinks:

Let me go where I’ll be rich! He drove for a day, drove for two, and on the third he arrived - a huge yard, high fence, at the gate there is a cast-iron post, on this post hangs a cast-iron board and an iron stick. Ilya Muromets took it and began to hit this board.

The gate opened and an old man came out.

Come into the house, take what you want! My pantries and basements are bursting.

He thinks:

Money is dust, clothes too, but honest life and fame are more valuable than anything else.

I went back and wrote on the stone:

“It’s not true that you will be rich. Other people’s wealth is short-lived and fragile.”

Well, I’ll take the third road, what a beauty there is, maybe I’ll actually get married.

He drives up, and there stands a palace, itself made of wood, with crystal windows, covered with silver, covered in gold.

A beautiful girl comes out and says:

I accept good fellow as a beloved groom.

She took his right hand and led him to the dining room and served him dinner with honor.

Now is the time to rest.

She led me into the bedroom.

Here,” he says, “the bed, lie down and rest.”

He took it and pressed it with his fist, and she pushed it hard. And there the hole is deep, five fathoms. And there are thirty heroes.

Hey guys, did you come here to get married?

Yes, they say, help, Ilya Muromets!

They recognized him immediately.

He took the lasso from the horse and threw it there and pulled them out, bringing them out every single one.

Well, she says, go and walk in freedom, and I’ll talk to her.

Look, the bride has had her day off, it’s time to get married.

He took him out into the forest, tied him by the hair, and pulled a tight bow. I hit it but didn't hit.

And know, you are a witch!

He took a red-hot arrow and shot at the crown.

She became so scary, with a crooked nose and two teeth. He crossed himself three times, she made the sign of the cross.

He came back and wrote:

“Who wants to get married - this is not true, there is no bride here - she took a day off.”

Ilya Muromets rode and rode across the wild steppe, dense forests, villages and cities and thinks:

I'll go see Svyatogor - the hero.

And he went to see Svyatogor the hero. I drove - I drove, I arrived - high mountain, like Ararat, only something turns black. He set off his horse and climbed on foot, he walked along the screw, climbed up, there was a tent pitched there, and Svyatogor the hero was lying in it.

Is Svyatogor, the hero, healthy?

I’m alive and well, thank you, I’ve been alive for three hundred years, I’ve been lying there, no one has hung me up. I have bad sight. He stood up and shook hands lightly.

They came down from the mountain, walked and walked, and saw that the coffin was lying there.

Eh, this is our death. Yours or mine?

And the lid is dissolved. Ilya Muromets fit in - there was room for him.

Eh, Ilya Muromets, it’s still too early for you. Come on, get out, I'll try.

Svyatogor the hero climbed in, just stretched out, the lid slammed shut. Ilya Muromets hit seven times - rolled seven iron hoops. Svyatogor is a hero and says:

Ilya Muromets, come closer to me, I will blow on you, your strength will increase.

Ilyushenka took one step, sensed the strength and took three steps back.

Oh, he didn’t come up, otherwise there would have been such power - Mother Earth wouldn’t have carried him!

Ilya Muromets approached the coffin and bowed.

Well, forgive me, Svyatogor is a hero.

Bury me! - said Svyatogor.

Ilya Muromets dug a deep grave with a sword, dragged the coffin into it, threw it down, said goodbye and went to Kyiv. There he lived for two hundred years. And he died.

Throughout his life, Ilya Muromets defeated many enemies of the Russian land, for which he was famous.

Stranger, we advise you to read the fairy tale "Ilya Muromets" to yourself and your children, this wonderful work created by our ancestors. The entire surrounding space, depicted with vivid visual images, is permeated with kindness, friendship, loyalty and indescribable delight. The story takes place in distant times or “A long time ago” as people say, but those difficulties, those obstacles and difficulties are close to our contemporaries. Every time you read this or that epic, you feel incredible love with which images are described environment. Simple and accessible, about nothing and everything, instructive and edifying - everything is included in the basis and plot of this creation. The desire to convey a deep moral assessment of the actions of the main character, which encourages one to rethink oneself, was crowned with success. Having become familiar with inner world and the qualities of the main character, the young reader involuntarily experiences a feeling of nobility, responsibility and high degree morality. The fairy tale "Ilya Muromets" will be fun to read online for free for both children and their parents, the kids will be happy about the good ending, and moms and dads will be happy for the kids!

In the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo, there lived two brothers. The bigger brother had a rather tall wife, she was neither big nor small in stature, but she gave birth to a son, whom she named Ilya, and the people named her Ilya Muromets. Ilya Muromets did not walk with his feet for thirty-three years, he sat in a seat. One hot summer, the parents went to the field to farm, mow the grass, and they carried Ilyushenka out and sat him down on the grass near the yard. He sits. Three wanderers come up to him and speak.

- Give alms.

And he says:

- Go into the house and take whatever you want. I haven’t walked for thirty-three years; I’ve been sitting for years.

One speaks.

- Get up and go.

He got up.

-What do you want?

- It’s not a pity.

He scooped up a bucket and a half of green wine.

- Drink it yourself.

He didn’t say a word, he drank it in one breath.

- Go get some more.

He brings it.

- Drink it yourself.

He drank it all in one breath.

They ask him:

- How strong do you feel in yourself?

- Such, good people, that if there were a pillar with one end in the sky, the other end driven into the ground, and a ring, I would turn it.

They looked at each other.

- This is too much for him. Go get some more. I brought some more. He drank it in one breath.

- How now?

I feel like there's only half left.

- Well, that's enough for you.

Out of great joy, he went to see them off and said:

“I sense heroic strength within me, where can I get a horse now?”

- On the way back, a man will lead the planer (the horse is two years old, that means) to sell, you buy it, just don’t haggle, give as much as he asks. Just fatten him up for three months with white-spring wheat, water him with spring water, and let him fly at three dawns on silk grass, and then on a silk rope and let him fly here and there through an iron tine. Here's your horse. Fight with whomever you want, you won’t die in battle. Just don’t fight with Svyatogor, the hero.

Ilyushenka accompanied them far beyond the village. On the way back he sees his father and mother working as peasants. They can't believe their eyes.

He asks:

- Let me mow it down.

He took the scythe and began to wave it, before they had time to look around - the whole steppe was lying down. Speaks:

- I got drunk.

Here I lay down to rest. Woke up and went. Lo and behold, a man is walking, leading a planer, he remembered.

- Great!

- Hello, dear fellow!

- How far are you leading the planer?

- Sell.

- Sell it to me.

- How many?

- Twenty rubles.

He gave it, didn’t say a word, took it from the floor and took it home.

He brought him home, put him in the stable and filled him with white wheat. So he fed him for three months, gave him spring water to drink, let him out onto the silk grass at three dawns, led him out onto a silk rope, and the horse flew over the iron fence like a bird. Well, here's a heroic horse for him. That's what really happened.

Ilya Muromets fought with the Nightingale the Robber, and he [Ilya Muromets] defeated him. The horse under him was heroic, like a fierce beast, his move was swift. He throws his hind hooves eighteen miles beyond the front. He stood at Matins in Chernigov, and arrived in Kyiv-grad in time for mass.

One day I was driving along the road, it turned out that the road diverged in three directions and on this road there was a stone, and on the stone there was an inscription:

“If you go to the left, you’ll be married; if you go to the right, you’ll be rich; if you go straight, you’ll be killed.”

He thought:

“The time has not yet come to get married, and I don’t need my wealth.” It is inappropriate for the Russian hero Ilya Muromets to acquire wealth, but it is fitting for him to save the poor and orphans, protect, and help in everything. Let me go, where death cannot be avoided. After all, in battle there is no death for me, it is not written.

And I went straight. He rode and rode through the wild steppe, there was a dense forest ahead, he rode through this dense forest. He rode through the dense forest from morning until noon. I arrived at a clearing, there stands a huge oak tree with three girths, thirty heroes are sitting under it, and thirty horses are grazing in the clearing. They saw Ilya Muromets and made a noise.

- Why are you here, you worthless man? We are heroes of a noble family, but you, peasant, can be seen three miles away. Death to you!

Ilya Muromets put a red-hot arrow on his bow, and as soon as he hit the oak tree, the chips flew, the whole oak tree was smashed into splinters. He beat the heroes and slammed him with an oak tree. Ilya Muromets turned his horse and rode back and wrote on the stone:

“Whoever wrote: if he passes, he will be killed - it’s not true, the path is free for all passers-by and passers-by.”

He thinks:

- Let me go where I’ll be rich! He drove for a day, drove for two, and on the third he arrived - a huge yard, a high fence, at the gate there was a cast-iron post, on this post hung a cast-iron board and an iron stick. Ilya Muromets took it and began to hit this board.

The gate opened and an old man came out.

- Come into the house, take what you want! My pantries and basements are bursting.

He thinks:

“Money is dust, clothes too, but honest life and fame are more valuable than anything else.”

I went back and wrote on the stone:

“It’s not true that you will be rich. Other people’s wealth is short-lived and fragile.”

- Well, I’ll take the third road, what a beauty there is, maybe I’ll actually get married.

He drives up, and there stands a palace, itself made of wood, with crystal windows, covered with silver, covered in gold.

A beautiful girl comes out and says:

- I accept, good fellow, as a beloved groom.

She took his right hand and led him to the dining room and served him dinner with honor.

- Now it's time to rest.

She led me into the bedroom.

“Here,” he says, “the bed, lie down and rest.”

He took it, pressed it with his fist, and she pushed it hard. And there the hole is deep, five fathoms. And there are thirty heroes.

- Hey guys, did you come here to get married?

“Yes,” they say, “help, Ilya Muromets!”

They recognized him immediately.

He took the lasso from the horse and threw it there and pulled them out, bringing them out every single one.

“Well,” she says, “go, walk free, and I’ll talk to her.”

- Look, the bride has had her day off, it’s time to get married.

He took him out into the forest, tied him by the hair, and pulled a tight bow. I hit it, but it didn’t hit me.

- And know, you are a witch!

He took a red-hot arrow and shot at the crown.

She became so scary, with a crooked nose and two teeth. He crossed himself three times, she made the sign of the cross.

He came back and wrote:

“Who wants to get married - this is not true, there is no bride here - she took a day off.”

Ilya Muromets traveled and drove through the wild steppe, dense forests, villages and cities and thought:

“I’m going to go see Svyatogor, the hero.”

And he went to see Svyatogor, the hero. I drove, I drove, I approached - a high mountain, like Ararat, only something turned black. He set off his horse and climbed on foot, he walked along the screw, climbed up, there was a tent pitched there, and Svyatogor the hero was lying in it.

- Are you healthy, Svyatogor the hero?

“I’m alive and well, thank you, I’ve been alive for three hundred years, I’ve been lying there, no one has come to visit me.” I have bad sight. He stood up and shook hands lightly.

They came down from the mountain, walked and walked, and saw that the coffin was lying there.

- Eh, this is our death. Yours or mine?

And the lid is dissolved. Ilya Muromets fit in - there was room for him.

- Eh, Ilya Muromets, it’s still too early for you. Come on, get out, I'll try.

Svyatogor the hero climbed in, just stretched out, the lid slammed shut. Ilya Muromets hit seven times - rolled seven iron hoops. Svyatogor is a hero and says:

- Ilya Muromets, come closer to me, I will blow on you, you will gain more strength.

Ilyushenka took one step, sensed the strength and took three steps back.

- Oh, he didn’t come up, otherwise there would have been such power - Mother Earth wouldn’t have carried him!

Ilya Muromets approached the coffin and bowed.

- Well, forgive me, Svyatogor is a hero.

- Bury me! - said Svyatogor.

Ilya Muromets dug a deep grave with a sword, dragged the coffin into it, threw it down, said goodbye and went to Kyiv. There he lived for two hundred years. And he died.

Throughout his life, Ilya Muromets defeated many enemies of the Russian land, for which he was famous.

So Ilya grabbed the horse with his whip, Burushka-Kosmatushka took off, galloped a mile and a half. Where the horses' hooves struck, there flowed a spring of living water. Ilyusha cut down a damp oak tree at the key, placed a frame over the key, and wrote on the frame the following words: “A Russian hero, the peasant son Ilya Ivanovich, rode here.”

A living fontanel still flows there, the oak frame still stands, and in the night the bear beast goes to the icy spring to drink water and gain heroic strength.

And Ilya went to Kyiv.

He drove along a straight road past the city of Chernigov.

As he approached Chernigov, he heard noise and din under the walls: thousands of Tatars besieged the city. From the dust, from the steam of the horse, there is a darkness over the earth; the red sun is not visible in the sky. Don't let the gray bunny slip between the Tatars, don't fly over the army clear falcon. And in Chernigov there is crying and groaning, funeral bells are ringing. The people of Chernigov locked themselves in a stone cathedral, crying, praying, waiting for death; Three princes approached Chernigov, each with forty thousand forces.

Ilya’s heart burned. He besieged Burushka, tore it out of the ground green oak, with stones and roots, grabbed it by the top and rushed at the Tatars. He began to wave the oak tree, and began to trample his enemies with his horse. Where he waves, there will be a street, and where he waves, there will be an alley. Ilya galloped up to the three princes, grabbed them by their yellow curls and spoke to them these words:

Oh you Tatar princes! Should I take you captive, brothers, or remove your violent heads? To take you prisoner - so I have nowhere to put you, I’m on the road, I’m not sitting at home, I only have a few grains of bread, for myself, not for parasites. Removing your heads is not enough honor for the hero Ilya Muromets. Go to your places, to your hordes, and spread the news to all enemies that native Rus' It’s not empty, there are strong, mighty heroes in Rus', let the enemies think about it.

Then Ilya went to Chernigov-grad. He entered the stone cathedral, and there people were crying, hugging, and saying goodbye to the white light.

Hello, Chernigov peasants, why are you crying, hugging, saying goodbye to the white light?

How can we not cry: three princes surrounded Chernigov, with forty thousand forces each, and here death is coming to us.

You go to the fortress wall, look into the open field, at the enemy’s army...

The Chernigovites walked to the fortress wall, looked into the open field, and there the enemies were beaten and felled, as if a field had been knocked out and crossed by hail.

The people of Chernigov beat Ilya with their foreheads, bring him bread and salt, silver, gold, expensive fabrics embroidered with stones.

Good fellow, Russian hero, what kind of tribe are you? Which father, which mother? What's your name? You come to us in Chernigov as a governor, we will all obey you, give you honor, feed and water you, you will live in wealth and honor.

Ilya Muromets shook his head:

Good peasants of Chernigov, I am from near the city, from near Murom, from the village of Karacharova, a simple Russian hero, a peasant son. I didn’t save you out of selfishness, and I don’t need either silver or gold. I saved Russian people, red girls, small children, old mothers. I will not come to you as a commander to live in wealth. My wealth is heroic strength, my business is to serve Rus', to defend it from enemies.

The people of Chernigov began to ask Ilya to stay with them for at least a day, to feast at a merry feast, but Ilya refuses even this:

I have no time, good people. In Rus' there is a groan from enemies, I need to quickly get to the prince and get down to business. Give me bread and spring water for the road and show me the direct road to Kyiv.

The Chernigov residents thought and became sad:

Eh, Ilya Muromets, the direct road to Kyiv is overgrown with grass, no one has driven along it for thirty years...

What's happened?

Nightingale the Robber, son Rakhmanovich, settled there near the Smorodina River. He sits on three oak trees, on nine branches. How he whistles like a nightingale, roars like an animal - all the forests bend to the ground, the flowers crumble, the grass dries up, and people... horses dead fall.

Go, Ilya, dear devious one. True, it’s three hundred miles straight to Kyiv, and a whole thousand along the roundabout road.

Ilya Muromets paused, and then shook his head.

It is no honor, no praise for me, a fine fellow, to take a roundabout road, to allow the Nightingale the Robber to prevent people from following their path to Kyiv. I will go straight and untrodden!

Ilya jumped on his horse, whipped Burushka with a whip, and he was like that, only the Chernigovites saw him!

Alexander Nechaev

Ilya Muromets

ILLNESS AND HEALING OF ILYA

Near the city of Murom, in the suburban village of Karacharovo, the peasant Ivan Timofeevich and his wife Efrosinya Polikarpovna gave birth to a long-awaited son. The middle-aged parents are very happy. They gathered guests from all the volosts for the christening, pulled apart the tables and started a meal - a feast of honors. They named their son Ilya. Ilya, son Ivanovich.

Ilya is growing by leaps and bounds, like dough rising on a piece of dough. Elderly parents look at their son, rejoice, and do not feel troubles or adversity. And trouble came to them unexpectedly. Ilya’s quick legs lost their strength, and the strong guy stopped walking. Sydney sits in the hut. The parents are grieving, sad, looking at their wretched son, shedding tears. What are you going to do? Neither sorcerers or healers can cure the disease. So a year passed and another passed. Time passes quickly, like a river flows. For thirty years and three more years, the motionless Ilya sat in the hut.

IN spring time The parents left early in the morning to burn, uproot stumps and roots, prepare the land for new arable land, and Ilya sits on an oak bench, guarding the house, as before.

Suddenly: a knock. What's happened? I looked out into the yard, and there were three old men standing there, walking, tapping on the wall with their sticks:

“We were tired on the road, and thirst tormented us, and people said, you have cold, foamy mash in your cellar.” Bring us that mash, Ileyushka, to quench our thirst and drink it yourself to your health!

“We have mash in the cellar, but there’s no one to go.” I am sick, immovable. My frisky legs don’t listen to me, and I’ve been sitting here for thirty-three years,” Ilya answers.

“And you get up, Ilya, don’t hesitate,” the Kaliki say.

Carefully, Ilya rose to his feet and was amazed: his legs obeyed him. One step took a step and another took a step... And then he grabbed the valley half-bucket and quickly aimed the mash in the cellar. He took the valley out onto the porch and didn’t believe himself: “Have I, like all people, begun to control my legs?”

The people walking from that valley took a sip and said:

- Now, Ileyushka, drink it yourself!

Ilya drank the mash and felt the strength pouring into him.

“Drink more, well done,” the wanderers tell him. Ilya kissed the valley another time. Passers-by ask:

– Do you feel, Ilya, a change in yourself?

“I sense utter power within me,” answers Ilya. - Do I now have such strength and might that, if there were a pillar firmly driven in, I would grab onto this pillar and turn over mother earth? This is how strong I have become!

The Kaliki looked at each other and said:

- Drink, Ileyushka, for the third time!

Ilya drank the third sip of mash. The wanderers ask:

– Do you feel any change in yourself?

“I feel like my strength has reduced by half!” - answered Ilya Ivanovich.

“If your strength had not diminished,” the wanderers say, “the mother earth would not have been able to carry you, just as she cannot carry Svyatogor the hero.” And the strength that you have will be enough for you. Will you become the most mighty hero in Rus', and in battle death is not written in your hand. Buy from the first person you meet at the market tomorrow a shaggy, indifferent foal, and you will have a faithful heroic horse. Provide heroic equipment according to your strength and serve the Russian people with faith and truth.

The Kaliki passers-by said goodbye to Ilya and disappeared from view as if they had never been there.

And Ilya hurries to please his parents. From stories I knew where they worked. The old people burned and got tired and lay down to rest. The son did not wake up or disturb his father and mother. He turned up all the stumps and roots himself and dragged them to the side, loosened the earth, even now plow and this one.

Ivan and Euphrosyne woke up and couldn’t believe their eyes: “Overnight, our cash was cleared of roots and stumps, it became smooth, even, like rolling an egg. And we could have enough work for a week!” And they were even more surprised when they saw their son Ilya: standing in front of them was a good fellow, smiling. Stately, portly, bright and joyful. Mother and father laugh and cry.

- This is joy for us, consolation! Our falcon Ileyushka has recovered! Now there is someone to look after our old age!

Ilya Ivanovich told about the healing, bowed low to his parents and said:

- Bless me, father and mother, to perform heroic service! I will go to the capital Kyiv-grad, and then to the outpost of our heroic land to defend.

The old people heard such a speech, they were saddened, they became sad. And then Ivan Timofeevich said:

“It’s not fate, apparently, for us to look at you and rejoice, since you chose the part of a warrior for yourself, and not the peasant’s.” It’s not easy for us to part with you, but there’s nothing we can do. For good deeds, for faithful service to the people, my mother and I give you a blessing, so that you serve without bending your heart!

The next morning, very early, Ilya bought a foal, a shaggy fledgling, and began to nurse it. I stocked up on all the heroic armor and did all the hard work around the house.

And the lazy, shaggy foal then grew up and became a mighty heroic horse.

Ilya saddled a good horse, dressed himself in heroic armor, said goodbye to his father and mother and left his native village of Karacharov.

ILYA AND THE NIGHTINGALE THE ROBBER

Ilya left Murom early and early, and he wanted to get to the capital Kyiv-grad by lunchtime. His fast horse gallops a little lower than the walking cloud, higher than the standing forest. And quickly the hero arrived to the city of Chernigov. And near Chernigov there is a countless enemy force. There is no pedestrian or horse access. Enemy hordes are approaching the fortress walls, planning to overwhelm and ruin Chernigov. Ilya rode up to the countless army and began to beat the rapist invaders like mowing grass. And with a sword, and a spear, and a heavy club, and a heroic horse tramples enemies. And he soon nailed and trampled that great enemy force.

The gates in the fortress wall opened, the Chernigovites came out, bowed low to the hero and called him the governor of Chernigov-grad.

“Thank you for the honor, men of Chernigov, but I don’t want to sit as a governor in Chernigov,” answered Ilya Ivanovich. – I’m in a hurry to the capital Kyiv-grad. Show me the straight path!

- You are our deliverer, glorious Russian hero, the direct road to Kyiv-grad is overgrown and walled up. The roundabout route is now used on foot and on horseback. Near the Black Mud, near the Smorodinka River, the Nightingale the Robber, Odikhmantiev’s son, settled. The robber sits on twelve oak trees. The villain whistles like a nightingale, screams like an animal, and from the whistling of the nightingale and from the cry of the animal, all the ant-grass withered, the azure flowers crumbled, dark forests It's leaning towards the ground, and people are lying dead! Don't go that road glorious hero!