Allsubmit: Velvet September. Allsubmit: Velvet September I look at the dark tops of the shabby pines

06.07.2020

In a large dense forest, far in the north of Finland, two huge pine trees grew side by side. They were so old, so old that no one, not even gray moss, could remember whether they had ever been young, thin pines. Their dark peaks were visible from everywhere, rising high above the thicket of the forest. In the spring, in the dense branches of old pines, a thrush sang cheerful songs, and small pink heather flowers raised their heads and looked up from below as timidly, as if they wanted to say: “Oh, will we really be just as big and just as old?”

In winter, when a blizzard covered the whole earth with a white blanket and heather flowers slept under fluffy snowdrifts, two pines, like two giants, guarded the forest.
A winter storm noisily swept through the thicket, sweeping away snow from branches, breaking off the tops of trees, and knocking down strong trunks to the ground. And only the giant pines always stood firmly and straight, and no hurricane could make them bow their heads.
But if you are so strong and persistent, that means something!
At the edge of the forest, where old pine trees grew, a hut covered with turf huddled on a small hillock, with two small windows looking into the forest. A poor peasant lived in this hut with his wife. They had a piece of land on which they sowed grain and a small vegetable garden. That's all their wealth. And in winter, the peasant worked in the forest - he cut down trees and transported logs to the sawmill in order to save a few coins for milk and butter.
The peasant and his wife had two children - a boy and a girl. The boy's name was Sylvester, and the girl's name was Sylvia.
And where did they find such names for them! Probably in the forest. After all, the word “silva” in the ancient Latin language means “forest”.
One day - it was winter - brother and sister, Sylvester and Sylvia, went into the forest to see if any forest animal or bird had been caught in the snares they had set.
And sure enough, a white hare was caught in one snare, and a white partridge in the other. Both the hare and the partridge were alive, they only got their paws entangled in the snare and squealed pitifully.
- Let me go! - the hare muttered when Sylvester approached him.
- Let me go! - the partridge squeaked as Sylvia leaned over her.
Sylvester and Sylvia were very surprised. Never before had they heard forest animals and birds speak like humans.
- Let's really let them go! - said Sylvia.
And together with her brother she began to carefully untangle the snare. As soon as the hare sensed freedom, he galloped as fast as he could into the depths of the forest. And the partridge flew away as fast as its wings could carry it.
- Podoprinebo!.. Podoprinebo will do everything you ask! - shouted the hare as he galloped.
- Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. And you will have everything you want! - the partridge shouted as it flew.
And again the forest became completely quiet.
- What were they saying? - Sylvester finally said. - Who are Podoprinebo and Zatsepitucha about?
“And I’ve never heard such strange names,” said Sylvia. “Who could it be?”
At this time, a strong gust of wind swept through the forest. The tops of the old pines rustled, and in their noise Sylvester and Sylvia clearly heard the words.
- Well, buddy, are you still standing? - one pine tree asked the other. -Are you still holding the sky? No wonder the forest animals nicknamed you - Podoprinebo!
- I'm standing! I'm holding it! - another pine tree hummed. - How are you, old man? Are you still fighting with the clouds? After all, it’s not in vain that they say about you - I’ll catch you!
“Somehow I’m getting weaker,” whispered the answer. - Today the wind broke off my top branch. Apparently, old age really does come!
- It’s a sin for you to complain! You are only three hundred and fifty years old. You are still a child! Quite a child! But I’m already three hundred and eighty-eight years old!
And the old pine sighed heavily.
“Look, the wind is coming back,” whispered the pine tree - the one that was younger. - It’s so good to sing songs to his whistle! Let's sing with you about distant antiquity, about our youth. After all, you and I have something to remember!

And to the sound of a forest storm, the pine trees, swaying, sang their song:
We are shackled by the cold, we are in captivity in the snow!
The blizzard rages and rages.
The sound of it makes us, the ancients, fall asleep,
And we see ancient times in a dream -
That time when we, two friends,
Two young pines rose to the heights
Above the unsteady green meadow.
Violets bloomed at our feet,
Blizzards whitened our needles,
And clouds flew from the hazy distance,
And the storm destroyed the spruce trees.
We reached to the sky from the frozen ground,
Even centuries could not bend us
And they didn’t dare break the whirlwinds...
“Yes, you and I have something to remember, something to talk about,” said the pine tree, the older one, and creaked quietly. - Let's talk to these children. - And one of its branches swayed, as if pointing to Sylvester and Sylvia.
-What do they want to talk to us about? - said Sylvester.
“We’d better go home,” Sylvia whispered to her brother. - I'm afraid of these trees.
“Wait,” said Sylvester. - Why be afraid of them! Yes, there comes the father!
And sure enough, their father was making his way along the forest path with an ax on his shoulder.
- These are trees! Just what I need! - said the peasant, stopping near the old pines.
He had already raised the ax to chop down the pine tree - the older one - but Sylvester and Sylvia suddenly rushed to their father, crying.
“Father,” Sylvester began to ask, “don’t touch this pine tree!” This is Podoprinebo!..
- Father, don’t touch this one either! - Sylvia asked. - Her name is Zatsepituchu. They're both so old! And now they sang us a song...
- What the guys can’t come up with! - the peasant laughed. - Where have you heard of trees singing? Well, okay, let them stand for themselves, since that’s what you’re asking for them. I'll find others too.
And he went further, deep into the forest, and Sylvester and Sylvia remained near the old pines to hear what these forest giants would tell them.
They didn't have to wait long. The wind rustled again in the treetops. He had just been at the mill and spun the mill wings so furiously that sparks from the millstones rained down in all directions. And now the wind flew into the pines and began to rage in their branches.
The old branches hummed, rustled, and began to speak.
- You saved our lives! - the pine trees said to Sylvester and Sylvia. - Now ask us for whatever you want.
But it turns out it's not always easy to say what you want most. No matter how much Sylvester and Sylvia thought, they came up with nothing, as if they had nothing to wish for.
Finally Sylvester said:
- I would like the sun to come out at least for a little while, otherwise there are no paths at all visible in the forest.
- Yes, yes, and I would like spring to come soon and the snow to melt! - said Sylvia. - Then the birds will sing again in the forest...
- Oh, what reckless children! - the pine trees rustled. - After all, you could wish for so many wonderful things! And wealth, and honors, and glory - you would have everything!.. And you ask for something that will happen without your request. But there’s nothing you can do, you need to fulfill your desires. Only we will do it in our own way... Listen, Sylvester: wherever you go, whatever you look at, the sun will shine for you everywhere. And your wish, Sylvia, will come true: wherever you go, whatever you talk about, spring will always bloom around you and the cold snow will melt.
- Oh, this is more than we wanted! - exclaimed Sylvester and Sylvia. - Thank you, dear pines, for your wonderful gifts. And now goodbye! - And they ran home merrily.
- Goodbye! Farewell! - the old pines rustled after them.
On the way, Sylvester looked back every now and then, looking for partridges, and - strange thing! - no matter which way he turned, a ray of sun flashed before him everywhere, sparkling on the branches like gold.
- Look! Look! The sun is out! - Sylvia shouted to her brother.
But as soon as she had time to open her mouth, the snow began to melt all around, the grass turned green on both sides of the path, the trees were covered with fresh leaves, and the first song of a lark was heard high in the blue sky.
- Oh, how fun! - Sylvester and Sylvia exclaimed in one voice. And the further they ran, the warmer the sun shone, the brighter the green of the grass and trees.
- The sun is shining for me! - Sylvester shouted, running into the house.
“The sun is shining for everyone,” said the mother.
- And I can melt the snow! - Sylvia screamed.
“Well, everyone can do it,” the mother said and laughed.
But a little time passed, and she saw that something was wrong in the house. It was already completely dark outside, evening had come, and in their hut everything sparkled from the bright sun. And so it was until Sylvester felt sleepy and his eyes closed. But that is not all! There was no end in sight for winter, and suddenly there was a whiff of spring in the small hut. Even the old, withered broom in the corner began to turn green, and the rooster on his perch began to sing at the top of his lungs. And he sang until Sylvia got tired of chatting and fell fast asleep. Late in the evening the peasant returned home.
“Listen, father,” said the wife, “I’m afraid that someone has bewitched our children.” Something wonderful is happening in our house!
- Here’s something else I came up with! - said the peasant. - You better listen, mother, what news I brought. You'll never guess! Tomorrow the king and queen will arrive in our city in person. They travel all over the country and inspect their possessions. Do you think we should go with the children to see the royal couple?
“Well, I wouldn’t mind,” said the wife. “It’s not every day that such important guests come to our place.”
The next day, just before dawn, the peasant with his wife and children got ready to set off. On the way there was only talk about the king and queen, and no one noticed that all the way a ray of sunshine ran in front of the sleigh (although the whole sky was covered with low clouds), and the birch trees all around were covered with buds and turning green (although the frost was such that the birds froze in flight).
When the sleigh entered the city square, the people there were already apparently invisible. Everyone looked warily at the road and whispered quietly. They said that the king and queen were dissatisfied with their country: wherever you go, there is snow, cold, deserted and wild places.
The king, as befits him, was very strict. He immediately decided that his people were to blame for everything, and was going to punish everyone properly.
They said about the queen that she was very cold and, to keep warm, she stomped her feet all the time.
And finally the royal sleigh appeared in the distance. The people froze.
In the square, the king ordered the coachman to stop to change horses. The king sat with his eyebrows furrowed angrily, and the queen wept bitterly.
And suddenly the king raised his head, looked around - here and there - and laughed cheerfully, just like all people laugh.
“Look, Your Majesty,” he turned to the queen, “how the sun shines welcomingly!” Really, it’s not so bad here... For some reason I even felt funny.
“This is probably because you deigned to have a good breakfast,” said the queen. - However, I also seemed to have more fun.
“This is probably because your Majesty slept well,” said the king. - But, however, this desert country is very beautiful! Look how brightly the sun illuminates those two pine trees that are visible in the distance. Positively, this is a lovely place! I will order a palace to be built here.
“Yes, yes, we definitely need to build a palace here,” the queen agreed and even stopped stamping her feet for a minute. - In general, it’s not bad here at all. There is snow everywhere, and the trees and bushes are covered with green leaves, like in May. This is absolutely incredible!
But there was nothing incredible about it. It was just that Sylvester and Sylvia climbed the hedge to get a better look at the king and queen. Sylvester spun in all directions - that's why the sun sparkled around him; and Sylvia chatted without closing her mouth for a minute, so even the dry poles of the old fence were covered with fresh leaves.
- What are these cute children? - asked the queen, looking at Sylvester and Sylvia. - Let them come to me.
Sylvester and Sylvia had never dealt with crowned heads before, so they boldly approached the king and queen.
“Listen,” said the queen, “I like you very much.” When I look at you, I feel more cheerful and even warmer. Do you want to live in my palace? I will order you to be dressed in velvet and gold, you will eat on crystal plates and drink from silver glasses. Well, do you agree?
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Sylvia, “but we’d better stay at home.”
“Besides, we will miss our friends in the palace,” said Sylvester.
- Is it possible to take them to the palace too? - asked the queen. She was in excellent spirits and was not at all angry that they objected to her.
“No, that’s impossible,” answered Sylvester and Sylvia. - They grow in the forest. Their names are Podoprinebo and Zatsepituchu...
- Whatever comes into the children’s minds! - the king and queen exclaimed in one voice and laughed so unanimously that even the royal sleigh jumped on the spot.
The king ordered the horses to be unharnessed, and the masons and carpenters immediately began to build a new palace.
Oddly enough, this time the king and queen were kind and merciful to everyone. They did not punish anyone and even ordered their treasurer to give everyone a gold coin. And Sylvester and Sylvia also received a pretzel, which was baked by the royal baker himself! Pretzel was so big that four of the king's horses carried him on separate sleighs.
Sylvester and Sylvia treated all the children who were in the square to a pretzel, and yet there was still such a large piece left that it barely fit on the sleigh. On the way back, the peasant's wife whispered to her husband:
- Do you know why the king and queen were so gracious today? Because Sylvester and Sylvia were looking at them and talking to them. Remember what I told you yesterday!
- Is this about witchcraft? - said the peasant. - Empty!
“Just judge for yourself,” the wife continued, “where have you seen trees bloom in winter and the king and queen not punish anyone?” Believe me, there was some witchcraft involved!
- All this is a woman’s invention! - said the peasant. - Our children are just good - so everyone is happy looking at them!
And it’s true that wherever Sylvester and Sylvia went, no matter who they spoke to, everyone’s soul immediately became warmer and brighter. And since Sylvester and Sylvia were always cheerful and friendly, no one was surprised that they brought joy to everyone. Everything around them bloomed and turned green, sang and laughed.
The deserted lands near the hut where Sylvester and Sylvia lived turned into rich arable fields and meadows, and spring birds sang in the forest even in winter.
Soon Sylvester was appointed royal forester, and Sylvia - royal gardener.
No king in any kingdom has ever had such a wonderful garden. And no wonder! After all, no king could force the sun to obey his orders. And for Sylvester and Sylvia the sun always shone when they wanted. That’s why everything in their garden was blooming in such a way that it was a pleasure to watch!
Several years have passed. One day in the dead of winter, Sylvester and Sylvia went into the forest to visit their friends.
A storm was raging in the forest, the wind was humming in the dark tops of the pines, and to its noise the pines sang their song:

We stand, as before, strong and slender.
It will snow, then it will melt...
And we look at two friends, two old pine trees,
How the greenery of spring gives way again
Ermine is whiter than snow,
As the clouds pass, they are full of rain,
And flocks of birds fly by.
Pine needles are fresh and thick -
Envy, elms and maples!
Winter will not leave a leaf on you -
Your green outfit will scatter!
But eternal beauty is given to pine trees,
Their heel went into the underground depths,
And into the sky - a high crown.
Let the bad weather rage all around -
Neither a storm nor...
But before they had time to finish singing their song, something crackled and creaked inside the trunks, and both pines fell to the ground. Just on this day, the youngest turned three hundred and fifty-five years old, and the eldest, three hundred and ninety-three years old. Is it any wonder that the winds finally overpowered them!
Sylvester and Sylvia affectionately patted the gray, moss-covered trunks of the dead pines and remembered their friends with such kind words that the snow around them began to melt and pink heather flowers peeked out from under the ground. And there were so many of them that they soon covered the old pines from the very roots to the very tops.
I haven't heard anything about Sylvester and Sylvia for a long time. Probably now they themselves have grown old and gray, and the king and queen, whom everyone was so afraid of, are no longer in the world.
But every time I see children, it seems to me that they are Sylvester and Sylvia.
Or maybe the old pines bestowed their wonderful gifts on all the children who live in the world? May be so.
Recently, on a cloudy, stormy day, I met a boy and a girl. And immediately a ray of sun seemed to flicker in the gray, dim sky, everything around brightened, a smile appeared on the gloomy faces of passers-by...
That's when spring comes in the middle of winter. Then the ice begins to melt - on the windows and in the hearts of people. Then even an old broom in the corner is covered with fresh leaves, roses bloom on a dry hedge, and cheerful larks sing under the high arch of the sky.

In a large dense forest, far in the north of Finland, two huge pine trees grew side by side. They were so old, so old, that no one, not even gray moss, could remember whether they had ever been young, thin pines. Their dark peaks were visible from everywhere, rising high above the thicket of the forest. In the spring, in the dense branches of old pines, thrushes sang cheerful songs, and small pink heather flowers raised their heads and looked up from below as timidly, as if they wanted to say: “Oh, will we really be just as big and just as old?”

In winter, when a blizzard covered the whole earth with a white blanket and heather flowers slept under fluffy snowdrifts, two pines, like two giants, guarded the forest.

A winter storm noisily swept through the thicket, sweeping away snow from branches, breaking off the tops of trees, and knocking down strong trunks to the ground. And only the giant pines always stood firmly and straight, and no hurricane could make them bow their heads.

But if you are so strong and resilient, that means something!

At the edge of the forest, where old pine trees grew, a hut covered with turf huddled on a small hillock, with two small windows looking into the forest. A poor peasant lived in this hut with his wife. They had a piece of land on which they sowed grain and a small vegetable garden. That's all their wealth. And in winter, the peasant worked in the forest - he cut down trees and transported logs to the sawmill in order to save a few coins for milk and butter.

The peasant and his wife had two children - a boy and a girl. The boy's name was Sylvester, and the girl's name was Sylvia.

And where did they find such names for them! Probably in the forest. After all, the word “silva” in the ancient Latin language means “forest”.

One day - it was winter - brother and sister, Sylvester and Sylvia, went into the forest to see if any forest animal or bird had been caught in the snares they had set.

And sure enough, a white hare was caught in one snare, and a white partridge in the other. Both the hare and the partridge were alive, they only got their paws entangled in the snare and squealed pitifully.

Let me go! - the hare muttered when Sylvester approached him.

Let me go! - the partridge squeaked as Sylvia leaned over her.

Sylvester and Sylvia were very surprised. Never before had they heard forest animals and birds speak humanly.

Let's really let them go! - said Sylvia.

And together with her brother she began to carefully untangle the snare. As soon as the hare sensed freedom, he galloped as fast as he could into the depths of the forest. And the partridge flew away as fast as its wings could carry it.

Podoprinebo!.. Podoprinebo will do everything you ask! - shouted the hare as he galloped.

Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. And you will have everything you want! - the partridge shouted as it flew.

And again the forest became completely quiet.

What were they saying? - Sylvester finally said. - Who are Podoprinebo and Zatsepitucha about?

“And I have never heard such strange names,” said Sylvia. “Who could it be?”

At this time, a strong gust of wind swept through the forest. The tops of the old pines rustled, and in their noise Sylvester and Sylvia clearly heard the words.

Well, buddy, are you still standing? - one pine tree asked the other. -Are you still holding the sky? No wonder the forest animals nicknamed you - Podoprinebo!

I'm standing! I'm holding it! - another pine tree hummed. - How are you, old man? Are you still fighting with the clouds? After all, it’s not in vain that they say about you - I’ll catch you!

“I’m getting weaker,” was the whispered answer. - Today the wind broke off my top branch. Apparently, old age really does come!

It's a shame for you to complain! You are only three hundred and fifty years old. You are still a child! Quite a child! But I’m already three hundred and eighty-eight years old!

And the old pine sighed heavily.

“Look, the wind is coming back,” whispered the pine tree, the one that was younger. - It’s so good to sing songs to his whistle! Let's sing with you about distant antiquity, about our youth. After all, you and I have something to remember!

And to the sound of a forest storm, the pine trees, swaying, sang their song:

We are shackled by the cold, we are in captivity in the snow!

The blizzard rages and rages.

The sound of it makes us, the ancients, fall asleep,

And we see ancient times in a dream -

That time when we, two friends,

Two young pines rose to the heights

Above the unsteady green meadow.

Violets bloomed at our feet,

Blizzards whitened our needles,

And clouds flew from the hazy distance,

And the storm destroyed the spruce trees.

We reached to the sky from the frozen ground,

Even centuries could not bend us

And they didn’t dare break the whirlwinds...

Yes, you and I have something to remember, something to talk about,” said the pine tree, the older one, and creaked quietly. - Let's talk to these kids. - And one of its branches swayed, as if pointing to Sylvester and Sylvia.

What do they want to talk to us about? - said Sylvester.

“We’d better go home,” Sylvia whispered to her brother. - I'm afraid of these trees.

Wait,” said Sylvester. - Why be afraid of them! Yes, there comes the father!

And sure enough, their father was making his way along the forest path with an ax on his shoulder.

These are trees! Just what I need! - said the peasant, stopping near the old pines.

He had already raised the ax to chop down the pine tree - the older one - but Sylvester and Sylvia suddenly rushed to their father, crying.

Father,” Sylvester began to ask, “don’t touch this pine tree!” This is Podoprinebo!..

Father, don’t touch this one either! - Sylvia asked. - Her name is Zatsepituchu. They're both so old! And now they sang us a song...

What can the guys come up with! - the peasant laughed. - Where have you heard of trees singing? Well, okay, let them stand for themselves, since that’s what you’re asking for them. I'll find others too.

They didn't have to wait long. The wind rustled again in the treetops. He had just been at the mill and spun the mill wings so furiously that sparks from the millstones rained down in all directions. And now the wind flew into the pines and began to rage in their branches.

The old branches hummed, rustled, and began to speak.

You saved our lives! - the pine trees said to Sylvester and Sylvia. - Now ask us for whatever you want.

But it turns out it's not always easy to say what you want most. No matter how much Sylvester and Sylvia thought, they came up with nothing, as if they had nothing to wish for.

Finally Sylvester said:

I would like the sun to come out at least for a little while, otherwise there are no paths at all visible in the forest.

Yes, yes, and I would like spring to come soon and the snow to melt! - said Sylvia. - Then the birds will sing again in the forest...

Oh, what reckless children! - the pine trees rustled. - After all, you could wish for so many wonderful things! And wealth, and honors, and glory - you would have everything!.. And you ask for something that will happen without your request. But there’s nothing you can do, you need to fulfill your desires. Only we will do it our own way... Listen, Sylvester: wherever you go, whatever you look at, the sun will shine for you everywhere. And your wish, Sylvia, will come true: wherever you go, whatever you talk about, spring will always bloom around you and the cold snow will melt.

Ah, this is more than we wanted! - exclaimed Sylvester and Sylvia. - Thank you, dear pines, for your wonderful gifts. And now goodbye! - And they ran home merrily.

Farewell! Farewell! - the old pines rustled after them.

On the way, Sylvester looked back every now and then, looking for partridges, and - strange thing! - no matter which way he turned, a ray of sun flashed before him everywhere, sparkling on the branches like gold.

Look! Look! The sun is out! - Sylvia shouted to her brother.

But as soon as she had time to open her mouth, the snow began to melt all around, the grass turned green on both sides of the path, the trees were covered with fresh leaves, and the first song of a lark was heard high in the blue sky.

The sun is shining for me! - Sylvester shouted, running into the house.

The sun is shining for everyone,” said the mother.

And I can melt the snow! - Sylvia screamed.

Well, everyone can do it,” the mother said and laughed.

But a little time passed, and she saw that something was wrong in the house. It was already completely dark outside, evening had come, and in their hut everything sparkled from the bright sun. And so it was until Sylvester felt sleepy and his eyes closed. But that is not all! There was no end in sight for winter, and suddenly there was a whiff of spring in the small hut. Even the old, withered broom in the corner began to turn green, and the rooster on his perch began to sing at the top of his lungs. And he sang until Sylvia got tired of chatting and fell fast asleep. Late in the evening the peasant returned home.

Listen, father,” said the wife, “I’m afraid that someone has bewitched our children.” Something wonderful is happening in our house!

Here's something else I came up with! - said the peasant. - You better listen, mother, what news I brought. You'll never guess! Tomorrow the king and queen will arrive in our city in person. They travel all over the country and inspect their possessions. Do you think we should go with the children to see the royal couple?

“Well, I’m not averse to it,” said the wife. “It’s not every day that such important guests come to our place.”

The next day, just before dawn, the peasant with his wife and children got ready to set off. On the way there was only talk about the king and queen, and no one noticed that all the way a ray of sunshine ran in front of the sleigh (although the whole sky was covered with low clouds), and the birch trees all around were covered with buds and turning green (although the frost was such that the birds froze in flight).

When the sleigh entered the city square, there were already visible and invisible people there. Everyone looked warily at the road and whispered quietly. They said that the king and queen were dissatisfied with their country: wherever you go, there is snow, cold, deserted and wild places.

The king, as befits him, was very strict. He immediately decided that his people were to blame for everything, and was going to punish everyone properly.

They said about the queen that she was very cold and, to keep warm, she stomped her feet all the time.

And finally the royal sleigh appeared in the distance. The people froze.

In the square, the king ordered the coachman to stop to change horses. The king sat with his eyebrows furrowed angrily, and the queen wept bitterly.

And suddenly the king raised his head, looked around - back and forth - and laughed cheerfully, just like all people laugh.

Look, Your Majesty,” he turned to the queen, “how the sun shines welcomingly!” Really, it’s not so bad here... For some reason I even felt funny.

This is probably because you deigned to have a good breakfast,” said the queen. - However, I also seemed to have more fun.

This is probably because your majesty slept well,” said the king. - But, however, this desert country is very beautiful! Look how brightly the sun illuminates those two pine trees that are visible in the distance. Positively, this is a lovely place! I will order a palace to be built here.

Yes, yes, we definitely need to build a palace here,” the queen agreed and even stopped stamping her feet for a minute. - In general, it’s not bad here at all. There is snow everywhere, and the trees and bushes are covered with green leaves, like in May. This is absolutely incredible!

But there was nothing incredible about it. It was just that Sylvester and Sylvia climbed the hedge to get a better look at the king and queen. Sylvester spun in all directions - that's why the sun sparkled around him; and Sylvia chatted without closing her mouth for a minute, so even the dry poles of the old fence were covered with fresh leaves.

What are these cute children? - asked the queen, looking at Sylvester and Sylvia. - Let them come to me.

Sylvester and Sylvia had never dealt with crowned heads before, so they boldly approached the king and queen.

Listen, said the queen, I like you very much. When I look at you, I feel more cheerful and even warmer. Do you want to live in my palace? I will order you to be dressed in velvet and gold, you will eat on crystal plates and drink from silver glasses. Well, do you agree?

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Sylvia, “but we’d rather stay at home.”

Besides, we will miss our friends in the palace,” said Sylvester.

Is it possible to take them to the palace too? - asked the queen. She was in excellent spirits and was not at all angry that they objected to her.

“No, that’s impossible,” answered Sylvester and Sylvia. - They grow in the forest. Their names are Podoprinebo and Zatsepituchu...

Whatever comes to children’s minds! - the king and queen exclaimed in one voice and laughed so unanimously that even the royal sleigh jumped on the spot.

The king ordered the horses to be unharnessed, and the masons and carpenters immediately began to build a new palace.

Oddly enough, this time the king and queen were kind and merciful to everyone. They did not punish anyone and even ordered their treasurer to give everyone a gold coin. And Sylvester and Sylvia also received a pretzel, which was baked by the royal baker himself! Pretzel was so big that four of the king's horses carried him on separate sleighs.

Sylvester and Sylvia treated all the children who were in the square to a pretzel, and yet there was still such a large piece left that it barely fit on the sleigh. On the way back, the peasant's wife whispered to her husband:

Do you know why the king and queen were so gracious today? Because Sylvester and Sylvia were looking at them and talking to them. Remember what I told you yesterday!

Is this about witchcraft? - said the peasant. - Empty!

“Just judge for yourself,” the wife continued, “where have you seen trees bloom in winter and the king and queen not punish anyone? Believe me, there was some witchcraft involved!

All this is a woman's invention! - said the peasant. - Our children are just good - so everyone is happy looking at them!

And it’s true that wherever Sylvester and Sylvia went, no matter who they spoke to, everyone’s soul immediately became warmer and brighter. And since Sylvester and Sylvia were always cheerful and friendly, no one was surprised that they brought joy to everyone. Everything around them bloomed and turned green, sang and laughed.

The deserted lands near the hut where Sylvester and Sylvia lived turned into rich arable fields and meadows, and spring birds sang in the forest even in winter.

Soon Sylvester was appointed royal forester, and Sylvia - royal gardener.

No king in any kingdom has ever had such a wonderful garden. And no wonder! After all, no king could force the sun to obey his orders. And for Sylvester and Sylvia the sun always shone when they wanted. That’s why everything in their garden was blooming in such a way that it was a pleasure to watch!

Several years have passed. One day in the dead of winter, Sylvester and Sylvia went into the forest to visit their friends.

A storm was raging in the forest, the wind was humming in the dark tops of the pines, and to its noise the pines sang their song:

We stand, as before, strong and slender.

It will snow, then it will melt...

And we look at two friends, two old pine trees,

How the greenery of spring gives way again

Ermine is whiter than snow,

As the clouds pass, they are full of rain,

And flocks of birds fly by.

Pine needles are fresh and thick -

Envy, elms and maples!

Winter will not leave a leaf on you -

Your green outfit will scatter!

But eternal beauty is given to pine trees,

Their heel went into the underground depths,

And into the sky - a high crown.

Let the bad weather rage all around -

Neither a storm nor...

But before they had time to finish singing their song, something crackled and creaked inside the trunks, and both pines fell to the ground. Just on this day, the youngest turned three hundred and fifty-five years old, and the eldest, three hundred and ninety-three years old. Is it any wonder that the winds finally overpowered them!

Sylvester and Sylvia affectionately patted the gray, moss-covered trunks of the dead pines and remembered their friends with such kind words that the snow around them began to melt and pink heather flowers peeked out from under the ground. And there were so many of them that they soon covered the old pines from the very roots to the very tops.

I haven't heard anything about Sylvester and Sylvia for a long time. Probably now they themselves have grown old and gray, and the king and queen, whom everyone was so afraid of, are no longer in the world.

But every time I see children, it seems to me that they are Sylvester and Sylvia.

Or maybe the old pines bestowed their wonderful gifts on all the children who live in the world? May be so.

Recently, on a cloudy, stormy day, I met a boy and a girl. And immediately a ray of sun seemed to flicker in the gray, dim sky, everything around brightened, a smile appeared on the gloomy faces of passers-by...

That's when spring comes in the middle of winter. Then the ice begins to melt - on the windows and in the hearts of people. Then even an old broom in the corner is covered with fresh leaves, roses bloom on a dry hedge, and cheerful larks sing under the high arch of the sky.

Current page: 1 (book has 6 pages in total)

Sacarius Topelius
Winter's Tale

Winter's Tale

In the spring, in the dense branches of old pines, thrushes sang cheerful songs, and small pink heather flowers looked up at them so timidly, as if they wanted to say: “Oh, will we really be just as big and just as old?”

In winter, when a blizzard covered the whole earth with a white blanket and heather flowers slept under fluffy snowdrifts, two pines, like two giants, guarded the forest.

But if you are so strong and resilient, that means something!

At the edge of the forest, where old pine trees grew, a hut covered with turf huddled on a small hillock, with two small windows looking into the forest. A poor peasant lived in this hut with his wife. They had a piece of land on which they sowed grain and a small vegetable garden. This is all their wealth. And in winter, the peasant worked in the forest - he cut down trees and transported logs to the sawmill in order to save a few coins for milk and butter.

The peasant and his wife had two children - a boy and a girl. The boy's name was Sylvester, and the girl's name was Sylvia.

And where did they find such names for them! Probably in the forest. After all, the word “silva” in ancient Latin means “forest”.

One day - it was winter - brother and sister, Sylvester and Sylvia, went into the forest to see if any forest animal or bird had been caught in the snares they had set.

- Let me go! - the hare muttered when Sylvester approached him.

- Let me go! - the partridge squeaked as Sylvia leaned over her.

Sylvester and Sylvia were very surprised. They had never heard forest animals and birds speak humanly.

- Let's really let them go! - said Sylvia.

And together with her brother she began to carefully untangle the snare.

As soon as the hare sensed freedom, he galloped as fast as he could into the depths of the forest. And the partridge flew away as fast as its wings could carry it.

- Podoprinebo!.. Podoprinebo will do everything you ask! - shouted the hare as he galloped.

- Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. Ask for Zatsepitucha!.. And you will have everything you want! - the partridge shouted as it flew.

And again the forest became completely quiet.

-What were they saying? - Sylvester finally said. – Who are Podoprinebo and Zatsepitucha about?

“And I’ve never heard such strange names,” said Sylvia. - Who could it be?

At this time, a strong gust of wind swept through the forest. The tops of the old pines rustled, and in their noise Sylvester and Sylvia clearly heard the words.

- Well, buddy, are you still standing? – one pine tree asked the other. – Are you still holding the sky? It’s not for nothing that the forest animals nicknamed you Podoprinebo!

- I'm standing! I'm holding it! – another pine tree hummed. - How are you, old man? Still fighting with the clouds? After all, it’s not in vain that they say about you – I’ll catch you!

“Somehow I’m getting weaker,” whispered the answer. “Today the wind broke off my top branch. Apparently, old age really does come!

- It’s a sin for you to complain! You are only three hundred and fifty years old. You're still a child! Quite a child! But I’m already three hundred and eighty-eight years old! - And the old pine tree sighed heavily.

“Look, the wind is coming back,” whispered the pine tree (the younger one). – It’s so good to sing songs to his whistle! Let's sing with you about distant antiquity, about our youth. After all, you and I have something to remember!

And to the sound of the storm, the pine trees, swaying, sang their song:

We are bound by the storm, we are in captivity in the snow!
The blizzard rages and rages.
The sound of it makes us, the ancients, fall asleep,
And we see ancient times in a dream -
That time when we, two friends,
Two young pines rose high above the unsteady greenery of the meadow.
Violets bloomed at our feet,
Blizzards whitened our needles,
And clouds flew from the hazy distance,
And the storm destroyed the spruce trees.
We reached out to the sky from the frozen ground,
Even centuries could not bend us
And they didn’t dare break the whirlwinds...

“Yes, you and I have something to remember, something to talk about,” said the pine tree (the older one) and creaked quietly. - Let's talk to these kids. – And one of its branches swayed, as if pointing to Sylvester and Sylvia.

– What do they want to talk to us about? - said Sylvester.

“We’d better go home,” Sylvia whispered to her brother. - I'm afraid of these trees.

“Wait,” said Sylvester. - Why be afraid of them! Yes, there comes the father!

And sure enough, their father was making his way along the forest path with an ax on his shoulder.

- These are trees! Just what I need! – the peasant rejoiced, stopping near the old pines.

He had already raised the ax to chop down the pine tree - the older one - but Sylvester and Sylvia suddenly rushed to their father, crying.

“Father,” Sylvester began to beg, “don’t touch this pine tree!” This is Podoprinebo!..

- Father, don’t touch this one either! - Sylvia asked. “Her name is Zatsepituchu.” They're both so old! And now they sang us a song...

– What the guys can’t come up with! – the peasant laughed. - Where have you heard of trees singing? Well, okay, let them stand for themselves, since that’s what you’re asking for them. I'll find others too.

They didn't have to wait long. The wind rustled again in the treetops. He had just been at the mill and was spinning the mill wings so furiously that sparks from the millstones rained down in all directions. And now the wind flew into the pines and began to rage in their branches.

The old branches hummed, rustled, and began to speak.

– You saved our lives! - the pine trees said to Sylvester and Sylvia. “Now ask us for whatever you want.”

But it turns out it's not always easy to say what you want most. No matter how much Sylvester and Sylvia thought, they came up with nothing, as if they had nothing to wish for.

Finally Sylvester said:

“I would like the sun to come out at least for a little while, otherwise there are no paths at all visible in the forest.”

– Yes, yes, and I would like spring to come soon and the snow to melt! - said Sylvia. “Then the birds will sing again in the forest...

- Oh, what reckless children! – the pine trees rustled.

– After all, you could wish for so many wonderful things! And wealth, and honors, and glory - you would have everything!.. And you ask for something that will happen without your request. But there’s nothing you can do, you need to fulfill your desires. Only we will do it our own way... Listen, Sylvester: wherever you go, whatever you look at, the sun will shine for you everywhere. And your wish, Sylvia, will come true: wherever you go, whatever you talk about, spring will always bloom around you and the cold snow will melt.

- Oh, this is more than we wanted! - exclaimed Sylvester and Sylvia. – Thank you, dear pines, for your wonderful gifts. And now goodbye! - And they ran home cheerfully.

- Goodbye! Farewell! - the old pines rustled after them.

On the way, Sylvester looked back every now and then, looking for partridges, and - strange thing! - No matter which way he turned, a ray of sun flashed before him everywhere, sparkling on the branches like gold.

- Look! Look! The sun is out! – Sylvia shouted to her brother.

- The sun is shining for me! - Sylvester shouted, running into the house.

“The sun is shining for everyone,” said the mother.

- And I can melt the snow! – Sylvia shouted.

“Well, everyone can do it,” the mother said and laughed.

But a little time passed, and she saw that something was wrong in the house. It was already completely dark outside, evening had come, and in their hut everything sparkled from the bright sun. And so it was until Sylvester felt sleepy and his eyes closed. But that is not all! There was no end in sight for winter, and suddenly there was a whiff of spring in the small hut. Even the old withered broom in the corner began to turn green, and the rooster on his perch began to sing at the top of his lungs. And he sang until Sylvia got tired of chatting and fell fast asleep.

Late in the evening the peasant returned home.

“Listen, father,” said the wife, “I’m afraid that someone has bewitched our children.” Something wonderful is happening in our house!

– Here’s something else I came up with! - said the peasant. “You better listen, mother, to the news I brought.” You'll never guess! Tomorrow the king and queen will arrive in our city in person. They travel all over the country and inspect their possessions. Do you think we should go with the children to see the royal couple?

“Well, I wouldn’t mind,” said the wife. “It’s not every day that such important guests come to our place.”

The next day, just before dawn, the peasant with his wife and children got ready to set off. On the road there was only talk about the king and queen, and no one noticed that all the time a ray of sunlight ran in front of the sleigh (although the sky was covered with low clouds), and the birch trees all around were covered with buds and turned green (although the frost was such that the birds froze on the fly).

The king immediately decided that his people were to blame for everything, and was going to punish everyone properly.

It was said about the queen that she was very cold and, to keep warm, she stamped her feet all the time.

And finally the royal sleigh appeared in the distance. The people froze.

In the square, the king ordered the coachman to stop to change horses. The king sat with his eyebrows furrowed angrily, and the queen wept bitterly.

And suddenly the king raised his head, looked around - back and forth - and laughed cheerfully, just like all people laugh.

“Look, Your Majesty,” he turned to the queen, “how the sun shines welcomingly!” Really, it’s not so bad here... For some reason I even felt funny.

“This is probably because you deigned to have a good breakfast,” said the queen. - However, I also seemed to have more fun.

“This is probably because your Majesty slept well,” said the king. – But, however, this desert country is very beautiful! Look how brightly the sun illuminates those two pine trees that are visible in the distance. Yes, this is the most wonderful place in my entire kingdom! I will order a palace to be built here!

“Yes, yes, we definitely need to build a palace here,” the queen agreed and even stopped stamping her feet for a minute. – Actually, it’s not that bad here at all. There is snow everywhere, and the trees and bushes are covered with green leaves, like in May. This is absolutely incredible!

But there was nothing incredible about it. It was just that Sylvester and Sylvia climbed the hedge to get a better look at the king and queen. Sylvester was spinning in all directions - that’s why the sun was sparkling all around; and Sylvia chatted without closing her mouth for a minute, so even the dry poles of the old fence were covered with fresh leaves.

-What are these cute children? – the queen asked, looking at Sylvester and Sylvia. - Let them come to me.

Sylvester and Sylvia had never dealt with crowned heads before, so they boldly approached the king and queen.

“Listen,” said the queen, “I like you very much.” When I look at you, I feel more cheerful and even warmer. Do you want to live in my palace? I will order you to be dressed in velvet and gold, you will eat on crystal plates and drink from silver glasses. Well, do you agree?

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Sylvia, “but we’d better stay at home.”

“Besides, we will miss our friends in the palace,” said Sylvester.

– Is it possible to take them to the palace too? – asked the queen. She was in excellent spirits and was not at all angry that they objected to her.

“No, that’s impossible,” answered Sylvester and Sylvia. - They grow in the forest. Their names are Podoprinebo and Zatsepituchu...

– Whatever comes to the children’s minds! - the king and queen exclaimed in one voice and laughed so unanimously that even the royal sleigh jumped on the spot.

The king ordered the horses to be unharnessed, and the masons and carpenters immediately began to build a new palace.

Oddly enough, this time the king and queen were kind and merciful to everyone. They did not punish anyone and even ordered their treasurer to give everyone a gold coin. And Sylvester and Sylvia also received a pretzel, which was baked by the royal baker himself. Pretzel was so big that four of the king's horses carried him on separate sleighs.

Sylvester and Sylvia treated everyone who was in the square to a pretzel, and yet their little horse barely carried the pretzel home.

When Sylvester and Sylvia went to bed, the peasant’s wife whispered to her husband:

“Do you know why the king and queen were so gracious today?” Because Sylvester and Sylvia were looking at them and talking to them. Remember what I told you yesterday!

- Is this about witchcraft? - said the peasant. - Empty!

“Just judge for yourself,” the wife continued, “where have you seen trees bloom in winter and the king and queen not punish anyone?” Believe me, there was some witchcraft involved!

- All this is a woman’s invention! - said the peasant. “It’s just that our children are good - so everyone is happy when they look at them!”

The deserted lands around the hut where Sylvester and Sylvia lived turned into rich arable fields and meadows, and spring birds sang in the forest even in winter.

Soon Sylvester was appointed royal forester, and Sylvia was appointed royal gardener.

* * *

Several years have passed.

One day in the dead of winter, Sylvester and Sylvia went into the forest to visit their friends.

A storm was raging in the forest, the wind was humming in the dark tops of the pines, and to the sound of it the pines sang their song:

We stand, as before, strong and slender.
It will snow, then it will melt...
And we look at two friends, two old pine trees,
How the greenery of spring gives way again
Ermine is whiter than snow,
As the clouds pass, they are full of rain,
And flocks of birds fly by.
Pine needles are fresh and thick -
Envy, elms and maples!
Winter will not leave a leaf on you -
Your green outfit will scatter!
But eternal beauty is given to pine trees,
Their heel went into the underground depths,
And into the sky there is a high crown.
Let the bad weather rage all around -
Neither a storm nor...

But every time I see children, it seems to me that they are Sylvester and Sylvia.

Or maybe the old pines bestowed their wonderful gifts on all the children who live in the world? May be so.

Recently, on a stormy winter day, I met a boy and a girl. And immediately a ray of sun seemed to flicker in the gray dull sky, everything around brightened, a smile appeared on the gloomy faces of passers-by...

Then spring suddenly comes in the middle of winter. Then the ice begins to melt - on the windows and in the hearts of people. Then even an old broom in the corner is covered with fresh leaves, roses bloom on a dry hedge, and cheerful larks sing under the high vault of the sky.

Sampo-Loparenok

Once upon a time there lived a Lapp and a Lapp, husband and wife.

Do you know what kind of people the Lapps are and where they live?

Listen, now I’ll tell you.

The Lapps live far in the north - further north than the Swedes, Norwegians and Finns.

If you look at the big map, you will see: it is as if a white cap is put on the head of Finland. This is the country where the Lapps live. It's called Lapland.

This is an amazing country! The sun doesn’t set there for six months, and then at night, just like during the day, it is completely light. And then the continuous night lasts for six months, and then even during the day the stars sparkle in the sky.

Winter there lasts ten long months - almost the entire year - and only two months remain for spring, summer and autumn.

But the Lapps are not afraid of winter. May the sleigh ride continue at least all year round! All of them - both adults and small ones - will travel anywhere in their small, light, boat-like sleighs. And it’s not horses, but deer, who are harnessed there.

Have you ever seen a reindeer? He resembles a short horse, his fur is gray, his neck is short, and his head with large clear eyes is decorated with branched horns. And when the deer runs, it seems as if the wind is sweeping across the mountains and hills, throwing up snow clouds.

Do you know what the Lapps make their houses from? Not from wood or stone, but from deer skins.

Building such a house is very simple: you need to take several long, thin poles, stick them in the snow, then tie the upper ends together and cover them with reindeer skins. That's all. The home is ready. And it is called not a house, not a hut, but a tent. A small hole is left at the top - it replaces the chimney in the plague. When a fire is lit in the hearth, smoke is drawn out through this hole. Below, on the southern side, they also leave a hole - it serves as a door, through which you can climb into the tent and get out of it.

This is how the Lapps live! This is what a country this is!

Now let's start the story from the beginning.

Once upon a time in Lapland there lived a husband and wife, a Lapp and a Lapp. They lived in the town of Aimio, on the banks of the Tenoyoki River.

This place is deserted and wild, but the Lapp and his wife liked it. They were sure that nowhere else there was such white snow, such clear stars and such beautiful northern lights as in Aimio. Here they built themselves a tent.

The chum turned out to be very good - at least that’s what the Lapp and Lapp thought. It was warm and comfortable, although you had to sleep right on the floor.

The Lapp and the Lapp had a little boy whose name was Sampo. But he had another name.

Here's how it happened.

One day, strangers in huge, clumsy fur coats drove up to the tent. They brought hard white pieces of snow. The Lapps had never seen snow like this before. This hard snow was called sugar. It was very tasty and very sweet. The visiting people gave several pieces of sweet snow to Sampo, patted him on the cheek and said: “Loparny! Loparnyok! They couldn't say anything more because none of them could speak Lapp. Then they left. The old lady really liked these people. She often remembered the sweet snow that they brought, and even began to call her son the same as they did - Loparyonok.

But the old Lapp didn’t like it.

– Is Sampo a bad name? - he said with annoyance. - In my opinion, this is the most beautiful name. And it will also bring happiness and wealth to our son. You'll see, old woman, our Sampo will someday be the first man in Lapland, the lord of fifty plagues and the owner of a thousand deer.

“It may very well be,” said the Loparka. - But, in my opinion, Loparyonok is a good name.

And she called her son Loparyonk, and his father called him Sampo. Therefore, we will call him Sampo-Loparenko.

Sampo-Loparyonok was a strong, stocky boy. He had black hair, black eyes and a small upturned nose. In a word, he resembled his father like two peas in a pod, and the old Lapp was known among his fellow countrymen as the first handsome man.

Sampo-Loparyonko was only seven years old, but not everyone is so brave and dexterous even at fifteen. He had his own little skis, which he could ride down the steepest hill without a second thought, and his own little reindeer, which he harnessed to his own sleigh.

You should have seen what a snow whirlwind arose when Sampo rushed on his reindeer through the high snowdrifts! Down up! Up down! Little Loparenok was not visible at all, and only occasionally a strand of his black hair flashed in the snowy clouds.

“It’s not good that the boy goes alone wherever he wants,” an old Lopark woman once said to her husband. - Just look, he will be attacked in the mountains by wolves or, even worse, by a golden-horned deer. There has never been a man who could cope with a golden-horned deer.

- I wish I had a deer like this! - exclaimed Sampo-Loparenok. – You can probably even climb Rastekais with it!

But I must tell you that Rastekais is the highest, most inaccessible mountain in all of Lapland, and its bare peak can be seen far all around.

- Stop talking nonsense! – Loparka shouted at her son. – Rastekais is a haven for all evil spirits. Hiisi himself lives there.

- Hiisi? Who is this? – asked Sampo-Loparyonok.

“He won’t let anything pass by,” thought the old Loparka. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him about Hiisi... Or maybe it’s for the better!” It doesn’t hurt to intimidate him a little to discourage him from riding Rastekais. He’s very brave!”

And she said:

– Hiisi is a mountain king, a terrible, evil giant. A whole deer for him is the same as one piece of meat for us, and he swallows small boys by the handful at once. I wouldn't advise you to climb Rastekais.

Sampo said nothing. But I thought to myself:

“I wish I could look at this Hiisi! From afar, of course!”

It was the darkest time of the year - no morning, no day, no evening, always endless night, the moon always shines, the stars always shine, and the northern lights blaze in the dark sky.

Sampo had not seen the sun for so long that he even forgot what the sun was like.

And when his father and mother talked about summer, all he could remember was that in the summer there are a lot of mosquitoes and they are so angry that they are ready to eat him alive.

“If only there were no summer at all,” Sampo thought, “if only it would be a little lighter!” It’s so difficult to ski in the dark!”

And then one day at noon (although it was as dark as at midnight) the old Lapp called his son:

– Come here quickly, Sampo, I want to show you something.

Sampo crawled out of the chum.

“Look in that direction,” the father said and pointed to the south.

Far, far away, at the very edge of the sky, Sampo saw a narrow red stripe, very similar to the reddish reflections of the northern lights.

– Do you know what this is? - asked the Lapp.

“This is the southern lights,” answered Sampo.

He knew perfectly well where the north and where the south was, and immediately decided that there could be no northern lights in the south.

“No,” said the old Lapp, “this is not the southern lights.” This is a harbinger of the sun. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow it will rise. Just look how beautifully the top of Rastekais is illuminated!

Sampo turned to the west: the gloomy, dark peak of Rastekais turned red, as if painted red. And he thought again: “Oh, how nice it would be to look at the giant Hiisi now! From afar, of course!”

But he didn't say anything.

All this day and half of the night Sampo-Loparian thought only about the giant Hiisi. He couldn't even sleep.

“If only I could see the mountain king just once! Just one time!”

He thought and thought and finally slowly got out from under the reindeer skins and crawled out of the tent.

The frost was such that everything around sparkled, and the snow underfoot creaked with every step.

But Sampo-Loparyonok was not afraid of the cold. He was wearing a fur jacket, fur pants, fur boots, a fur hat and fur mittens. And when you wear such an outfit, no frost is scary!

Sampo-Loparyonok stood near the tent and looked at the stars that burned with bright lights in the sky. And suddenly he heard his little deer scratching the snow with its hoof.

“What if I ride around a little?” – thought Sampo-Loparyonok.

He did just that: he harnessed the deer to his sled and rushed across a huge deserted snow field.

“Shouldn’t I go towards Rastekais? – Sampo thought again. “Of course, I won’t climb the mountain itself, but I’ll just see what it’s like up close.”

Decided and done.

Sampo-Loparyonok drove his deer across the frozen river. From the shore - down onto the ice! And then - up, to the other side! And then further and further west, to where the dark peak of Rastekais rises...

Right now you are reading this fairy tale about little Sampo. Do you know the song: “Run, my little deer...”? Sampo sang this song as the deer rushed him over the snowy hills:

And sure enough, the wolves, like gray dogs, were already running after the sleigh. Sampo saw their eyes glowing in the darkness.

But he was not at all afraid of wolves. He knew that the wolves would never catch up with his good deer.

It was a fun ride! From hill to hill, on and on! Sampo even had a whistling sound in his ears. The deer's hooves tapped rhythmically, the moon in the sky raced with it, and the high mountains moved towards it.

And suddenly - once! – the sleigh turned over, and Sampo-Loparyonok rolled head over heels into the snow.

A lot of time passed before Sampo-Loparyonok climbed out of the snowdrift.

At first, the whole incident even seemed funny to him. And this is not surprising: he was safe, unharmed and not hurt at all.

Sampo-Loparyonok looked around.

Everywhere there was snow, snow, snow, snowy fields, snowy mountains... One mountain was higher than all of them, and Sampo guessed it was Rastekais. A long black shadow from her stretched across the snow.

Here, on this mountain, lives the evil giant Hiisi. A whole deer is to him what a piece of meat is to us, and he swallows small boys by the handful.

Oh, how scared Sampo-Loparenku became! How he wanted to be away from this mountain, in a warm tent, near his father and mother!

But how to get home? After all, while he is looking for the way, the mountain king will see him and swallow him, like a pathetic little mosquito.

Sampo-Loparenok even began to cry from fear.

But judge for yourself: is it worth crying if the tears immediately freeze and, like peas, roll down your shaggy jacket? Sampo-Loparenok thought and decided that it was not worth it, especially since the frost gripped him more and more every minute and he had to dance on the spot so as not to freeze. And what tears there can be when you dance!

Soon Sampo-Loparenok warmed up a little and became cheerful.

“I’ll go to the mountain king,” he thought. “If he wants to eat me, well, let him eat.” Of course, it would be much more pleasant if he ate the wolves that prowl here. They’re fatter than I am, and besides, I’m wearing so many things - a jacket, pants, a hat, mittens, and boots - but the wolf only has one skin!”

And Sampo-Loparyonok boldly walked towards Rastekais. He was already at the very foot of the mountain, when he suddenly heard someone quietly stepping on the snow behind him.

Sampo-Loparyonok looked around. Two steps away from him stood a huge shaggy wolf.

Sampo's little heart beat faster, but he didn't show that he was scared.

- Hey, don't you dare eat me! - he shouted to the wolf. - I'm going to the mountain king. I have very important business with him. And if you value your skin, I advise you not to touch me!

- Well, well, be quiet! - said the wolf (on Rastekais all the animals can speak humanly). - Who are you?

– My name is Sampo-Loparenok. And who are you?

“I am the leader of the wolf pack of His Majesty the Mountain King,” answered the wolf. “Now I scoured all the mountains and plains and called the king’s subjects to the feast of the night. Since you and I are on the road, sit on my back and I’ll take you to the top.

Sampo-Loparyonok did not hesitate for long. He jumped on the wolf, and they rushed through mountain gorges and abysses.

- Tell me, please, what is this night festival that you were talking about? – Sampo asked on the way.

- Don’t you know? – the wolf was surprised. - The sun should rise today. Before its sunrise, all the animals, all the trolls and gnomes that live in the North, gather on Rastekais. They come here to say goodbye to the night. And while this holiday lasts, no one dares to offend anyone. This is the law of His Majesty the mountain king Hiisi. That's why I didn't eat you. You are lucky, Sampo-Loparyonok, that we met at such an hour, otherwise there wouldn’t even be a bone left of you.

- What, the mountain king isn’t bothering anyone now either? – asked Sampo-Loparyonok.

“Well, of course,” answered the wolf. “No one, not even the king himself, will dare touch you.” For an entire hour, peace reigns on Rastekais. At this time, deer are walking under the noses of bears, mountain rats are talking peacefully with wolverines... But you will have a bad time if you stay on Rastekais for even one extra minute! A hundred thousand wolves and a thousand bears will attack you. And even if you leave them, you still cannot escape the mountain king.

“Dear wolf, won’t you be so kind and help me get out of here in time?” – Sampo-Loparok asked timidly.

The wolf laughed (on Rastekais all wolves can laugh).

– Don’t even hope for it, my dear Sampo! - he said.

“I confess to you in all honesty, I will be the first to grab you by the throat.” I see that you are well fed, and I will be happy to eat you for breakfast when the holiday is over.

“Shouldn’t I go back?” – Sampo thought.

But it was too late. They have already climbed to the very top of Rastekais.

So this is what he is, this mountain king! Sampo looked at him with all his eyes.

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Exercise
Physics - 7th grade

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Mini-test:

1. PTU student Vasya still doesn’t know the name of a negative particle that always rotates. And you?

2. Vasya, a vocational school student, accelerated in his father’s car. Seeing a pole in front of him, he took his foot off the gas, got scared and did not press the brake. “Thanks to” what made the meeting with the pillar inevitable?

3. Vasya, a vocational school student, likes to listen to the radio. But he doesn’t know whose name appeared in the first radiogram transmitted in Russia, and you?

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Physics
physics

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Mathematics - 7th grade

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1. Vasya, a vocational school student, has a rat at home, which, scurrying around the corners with its girlfriend, divides them into 3 equal parts. What is this rat's name?

2. Vocational school student Vasya does not like geometry, but respects the person who “started” it. Who are we talking about?

3. “The vocational school student is stupid. Vasya is a vocational school student. Vasya is stupid.” What is the method of proof?

4. PTU student Vasya walked along a surface bounded by two edges. Having visited all its places, he could not reach the end. Who came up with such a surface? (Surname)

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Mathematics
mathematics

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Exercise
Literature - 7th grade

Clue
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1. Vasya, a vocational school student, does not help grandmothers cross the road. But the grandson of the mysterious writer helped put old Russia on the path of a market economy. Give the real name of the writer.

2. Unlike the vocational school student Vasya, this character, a luminary of world significance, preferred the work of Verdi to the morning newspapers. What is this character's middle name?

3. A Russian proverb says: “What is written with a pen cannot be cut down with an axe.” Vasya, a vocational school student’s favorite character, uttered a phrase with a similar meaning, which later became a catchphrase. Name this character.

4. Vasya, a vocational school student, is going through a difficult but wonderful stage in his life. What is the name of the second stage, which the bearded guy described in his work?

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Literature
literature

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4

Well, isn’t it stupid, damn it, at night - even if it’s white, even if it’s as bright as day - to wade a knee-deep river, take off and put on your boots, climb a mountain - and all this for the sake of looking at the pine trees that have been with you since childhood they have hurt your eyes!

On the mountain, in a fragrant birch forest, Igor broke off a couple of branches and handed them to me: brush away the mosquito.

The evening dawn has not yet faded. Far away on the horizon was a jagged ridge of forest. And above this ridge, here and there, crimson pines rose - shaggy, looking like rearing fairy bears.

Dry twigs crunch underfoot. Restless aspens, not knowing how to rest even at night, are babbling, slapping cool leaves on a hot face. Igor in a white shirt, shrouded in a gray cloud of midges, sways in the bushes like a deer. A seasoned, experienced deer, unerringly making its way.

The forest is not yet visible, but the air is already sultry and smells sharply of pine resin. And here is the forest itself.

We stood at the edge of an aspen tree, and in front of us stretched a huge plain, bristling with young pine trees. In the distance, to the west, the plain crept up onto a gentle hill, and it seemed as if from there a wide sea wave was rolling towards us. And the pines themselves, sometimes blue-black, sometimes gray to gray, sometimes golden-crimson with light drops of resin, resembled the elegant, spotted skin of the sea.

Igor said:

- Well, don’t you regret that you went?

And then he suddenly wrapped his arms around the nearest garden of pine trees - they grew in clumps - and poked his face into them:

- These are my kids!

“And you say you did all this with one hoe?” - I asked, looking around the plain again and again.

- Yes, Alexey. With a hoe - our Pinega digger and these hands! – Igor threw up his small dark hands clenched into fists. – I came here in winter. At that time there was no sign of restoring the forest. And I think - you’re being naughty! I didn't come here on a whim. Since you are assigned to the forest, justify yourself. The biggest problem, of course, was the seeds. Well, I made a mistake. He clicked on the boys at the logging station and opened up a whole front. It’s fun for them to climb pine trees, but it’s good for me...

Suddenly Igor became thoughtful and sighed heavily.

- Well, Natasha, of course, got it. It was only after these brats stood on tiptoe. It was hot, Alexey, they began to dry out - like kittens without milk. Well, I dig in my hands and let’s wave from morning to night. And so, you understand, Natasha was in a position then. Why did she have to take up the digger? I missed it, Alexey. It wasn't easy for us. Doctors say: the end of your children...

The white night floated over us. Mosquitoes squeaked pitifully above my ear. Igor, with his head bowed, white as a ghost, stood immersed to the waist in a thorny, darkened pine forest.

“Nothing,” he said in a muffled whisper. - Nothing! - And suddenly, again, with a kind of fatherly wide and generous embrace, he embraced the pine trees in a way that was already familiar to me. - These are my children!.. Natasha is crying, she’s dying, and I say: don’t cry; who will give birth to anything - only children with arms and legs, and we, I say, will give birth to people like pine trees. Pine ones are even stronger. For centuries. Do you agree, Alexey? “And suddenly Igor, without waiting for my answer, it was a done deal!” - loudly and boomingly, so much so that the echo shot up over the silent pine forest, he laughed.

I had to return home. But how I didn’t want to part with this pine forest! Or is it because now these teenage pines are not just young pine trees for me, but Igor’s children?

-Have you seen, Alexey, how a pine tree grows? – Igor suddenly asked.

I smiled: it’s still naive to ask about such things to a person who grew up in the forest.

- You haven’t seen a damn thing! We all do. We wander, we wander through the forest, we trample everything from the edge, well, we break off the bird cherry when it’s in bloom, but we don’t know how the working tree rises from the ground. Do you wanna take a look? – Igor’s voice contained a seductive mystery, so familiar to me from childhood. - Interesting! Pine trees are two weeks old. A?

5

And here we are again, two night owls, walking into the white night. Above your head is a mysterious sky, dimmed by a gray haze, and at your feet there are pine trees. The heat of the day emanates from the pines. Pine trees cling to clothes with resinous needles and bite bare hands.

Igor remarks contentedly:

- Look how toothy they are. Like puppies, they snap. There will be strong trees!

White night works wonders. Time has disappeared. We are boys again. And again, as in those distant years, Igor leads me...

A dark stream overgrown with young spruce trees, like a ship, sails towards us.

A thin whistle was heard, like a fragile ray of evening sun, and went out.

“But this is a grouse, Alexey,” said Igor and stopped. - It's funny. Why would he care about this time?

He remains surprised for some time at the strange behavior of the hazel grouse, and then says:

– I have a lot of all kinds of birds here, Alexey. She loves these places. Even eagles live on the Sysol lakes, wow! But in general nervous the bird has gone today... And how can it not be nervous, if there is iron thunder all over the North! Let's say a crane, for example. In the spring it flies from the south, flapping its wings day and night. Okay, he thinks, I’ll fly home and rest. And when I arrived, there was nowhere to sit. There are already people on the nesting grounds.

Holding on to the birch branches, we began to descend into the stream. Thick waist-deep ferns, grass that had sweated slightly overnight, and even a damp chill below. But the drought has reached here too. There was no water in the stream. The rocky, small pebble bottom was overgrown with lush cushions of green moss. The moss softly springs underfoot. Suddenly, to the right of us - this always happens suddenly - a hazel grouse fluttered up and, low and low, with wings like a propeller, it pulled into the spruce wilderness. You could hear him sit down on a branch.

Igor smiled:

– Now we will enter into negotiations with him. - And, parting his dry, cracked lips, he whistled.

The hazel grouse responded, but somehow sluggishly, reluctantly.

Igor smiled again:

– Do you know what he answered me? “I won’t go,” he says, “if you want, go yourself.”

- Well, then I’m not going to go?

- That's God, Alexey. They, these hazel grouse, have three calls for their comrades: “I’m flying”, “I’m walking on my feet”, “fly by myself”. Do not believe? Well, how would they look for each other in the forest, especially during currents? Good hunters know their dialect, and that’s how they set the decoy. If I’m “flying”, don’t move, it will fly by itself. And you can also wait for the “I’m walking” signal. Not soon - how long is the pockmark's stride? - it hobbles. But if you “fly by yourself,” then don’t wait. No matter how you call him, he won’t come. A bird with character, even though it is small.

Behind the stream there is another clearing - rotten stumps in bushes of wrinkled, sun-burnt strawberries, rare fireweed trees with pot-bellied bumblebees sleepily tossing and turning on their panicles, then again a stream - bitter alder interspersed with birch, and now we climb the hill.

Under my feet the tundra is the purest, curly moss whiter than snow, and there, above – I lift my head – the tops of pine trees...

I look at these immense giants in gray hair, I look at their dark peaks, battered by the eternal winds, and then they seem to me like epic heroes who miraculously wandered into our days, then again it begins to seem - which the white night does not do - that you yourself you have found yourself in an enchanted kingdom and are wandering among dozing heroes. Was it not the white nights and pine trees that inspired this fairy tale to our ancestors?

Igor’s sigh—he’s nearby—brings me back to reality.

“These pines still remember Peter.” What beauty it was here! And now there is only one island left. And that’s because they used horses to harvest timber. It was impossible to take. And if it were today, they would crush it. The tractor will even turn the devil...

Igor sighs again:

“It used to be that when you went into the forest, you were taken aback.” A goblin sits under every spruce tree. And now these devils have been driven into the damp Suzems - they are wasting away, poor things, they are afraid to stick their nose out... Okay, let's go. It's close here. There won't be a mile.

But Igor’s verst, apparently, was still measured by that ancient grandfather’s stick, which is mentioned in the saying. We wander through clearings, sometimes completely dry, sometimes muffled by greasy grass with lush white-foamed umbrellas of cumin - they look like light clouds that have fallen to the ground, we go around a small lake with water as black as tea, smoking with steam - “the devils are drowning the bathhouse” “, - Igor jokingly remarks, we cross clearings - forest corridors, trample crunching deer white moss, get confused in the elastic thickets of juniper. And Igor talks, talks, talks about everything that catches his eye, now in a muffled whisper (and then he, in a white loose shirt, with a dark, sun-smoked face, on which unnaturally white eyebrows move, resembles an old forest sorcerer), then his voice flows like a stream.

He talks about spruce trees, about their extraordinary sensitivity - “a ten-meter spruce can be killed with one blow of a butt”, about the coniferous litter that slides underfoot - “the forest is wisely designed, Alexey: first it provides itself with food, and then it goes to rest,” he complains to the impudent birch - and this is strange for me to hear, but he has his own account for the birch - “the weed tree, she and the aspen are the first guests in the clearings,” he weaves some homegrown tale about the ancient bird capercaillie, which we raised in herbalists ...

I take a closer look at Igor, remember his “camp universities,” and it increasingly occurs to me that I don’t know this man at all.

He was strong, still strong and tireless, like all the Charnasovs, and just as wildly dreamy and obsessed as his father - “I’m going to start a green revolution,” but where did he get this amazing love and pity, Russian pity for all living things? No, his father, mercilessly straightforward, thinking in global categories, did not suffer from this. Has the profession of a forester left its mark on him?

The morning dawn sneaks across the tops of the pines like a red fox. Something like a breeze, like a light sigh, swept through the forest. Or is it the white night, clinging to the ground, crawling into the deep thickets?

6

“Here we come,” says Igor.

I look in front of me and see nothing but endless black burning with a chaotic accumulation of snags and twigs. On their charred, cracked bark there are scarlet reflections of dawn, and it seems that the fire is still breathing, living.

Another mystery?

Igor, pleased, laughs. His dry, tanned face with white eyebrows glows like a pine tree.

- You're looking in the wrong direction. Look into the furrows.

In fact, the burnt area is cut by sandy lumpy furrows. A lot of them. They, like yellow snakes, crawled through the burning area.

I lean towards the first furrow. Torn, burnt roots along the edges, traces of a tractor caterpillar, then I notice a tiny, about two centimeters, tuft of dark smoky grass, followed by another, a third... And now the tufts merge into a thin, here and there sparkling stream, timidly creeping along the sandy bottom furrows.

The stream is unusual. The stream smells of resin.

Is this really how the pine forest begins?

Igor advises me to pull out the shoot: anyway, they won’t all survive, they’ll have to thin out.

Wow! The grass prickles and sticks to your fingers, and the deep root suddenly shows the tenacity and tenacity of the pine tree.

It’s strange to hold a tree with roots in your palm...

I stand, bending over this infant forest, inhaling its primordial smell, and it seems to me that I am present at the birth of the world, rising at the morning dawn...

Igor gently puts his hand on my shoulder.

- This is tractor work. Exactly a month ago we sowed with Sanka Ryakhin. The man worked conscientiously. And now I met you the other day and asked: “Are we going to atone for old sins again, Sanya?” “No,” he says, “Igor.” It’s good to sow forests, I like this work, but don’t wait any longer.” You see, Alexey, a penny kills a man. He has a family, kids, and here comes the tariff rate. You won't jump over. Why is that? Those who cut down trees get progressives, premiums, and all sorts of other stuff. And whoever plants a forest is brought to consciousness. Why is that?

We walk along a narrow, well-trodden path. The forest is full of birds. They squeak, whistle, shadow - everyone is in a hurry to get their business done before it gets hot. And here comes the rattling sound of woodpeckers.

“These are my assistants,” says Igor. - There are only a few of them nowadays. We need to somehow increase them. Have you read anything about this in books?

And then he returns to his grievances as a forester. No, he's not talking about himself. He and Natasha need a little. Even if you sprinkle it with gold, you won’t be able to tear it away from the forest. But how can someone who has a family live on their salary? So disabled people and all sorts of rabble go to work as foresters. And if some suitable guy turns up, he’s still of little use. He puts hay for his cow all summer. How much work does a forester have? Forest protection, silviculture work, clearing clearings... What about harvesting seeds? Egyptian work! Each lump should be crushed with your palms. How about digging fire ditches near the roads?..

Igor shakes his head:

- I don’t understand a damn thing here. There are fires every year. And now the whole North is burning. In Arkhangelsk, they say you can’t breathe from the smoke. Did they decide to heat space? What does this cost the state? Do people at logging stations not work for weeks at a time? Are we chasing collective farmers from fire to fire? And for some reason no one wants to do one thing - increase forest protection. Do you know what kind of forestry department I have? Two hundred and forty thousand hectares! I can’t get around this kingdom in a year. What a year! I will die without visiting every quarter. We foresters shout: add more security! There will be fewer fires. And all to no avail. We throw billions into the fire - we don’t regret it, but hiring an extra forester means saving... Why is that, Alexey? I wrote to the district committee, and to the region, and to Moscow... Where else should I write?

7

The way back turned out to be direct and short. And I realized that Igor was not leading me through the forest without intent. Yes, he himself did not hide it.

“Well, now you’ve received a pine education,” he said with a grin when we went out into the vicinity of the village.

I was amazed looking at him. The man spent the whole day on his feet, then this sleepless night with circling through streams and clearings, but nothing mattered to him. He was fresh and cheerful, like the morning forest. Maybe only the wrinkles became more pronounced on his dry, narrow face and on his sinewy, black-tanned neck.

We met the sunrise sitting under a gnarled, spreading pine tree - a mighty monster that grew tall in the wild. The old cones, lying in a heap on the dewdrops of petrified roots, were painted with scarlet light.

“And I, Alexey, one might say, also began to live from the pine tree,” Igor spoke. “The forest made me a man.” Well, there’s nothing to tell about how I ended up in jail. Because of your youth, because of your stupidity... You’re a scientist, Alexey, you write books. Can you explain what happened to me then, what twist was formed in my brain? Why couldn't I stay at home? All my peers are in business: you study, they work. And I just feel drawn, drawn somewhere. Like a pie in the sky. Why is that? And he considered himself a hero - yes. Well, the war began, and then I got a headache. He washed himself with bloody tears. My brothers are at the front, my father is dying of cancer, and I am behind barbed wire. I work, of course, I declared war on all the gopyas in the camp, but still in the camp. Is it really necessary for me, the son of Anton Charnasov, to fight like that?

Igor cracked his clasped fingers.

“Now they are leaving prison, they are meeting him at the gate.” Everything is for him, they get him a job - just be human. They beg. And after the war I came out and sipped some bitters. I have a pure heart, I want to live, I want to work - I haven’t lived yet, I was imprisoned for seventeen years - but they shy away from me like a leper. I work hard, work hard, take out thirty cubic meters of earth with a shovel - this is when the road was still being built - my shirt does not dry out from sweat, I myself am gray from salt. And as soon as something happened in the village - some kind of theft, disappearance - Igor the bandit. They look at him askance. How can I bear this, Alexey?

And only in the forest you feel like a human being. Nobody asks you who you are. The bird will sit next to you. The pine tree is a hard worker... It stands there, pumping resin day and night. She has no time to worry about trifles. The whole planet rests on it...

It was inappropriate, not good, but I couldn’t help but smile: Igor’s generalization was so unexpected and broad.

- By God, Alexey! Well, what about it? Live here until winter and you’ll understand everything in practice. Cold winds will blow - from the Arctic, all the way from the Pole itself - who serves as a barrier to them? Pine. If it weren’t for the pine tree, these winds would have reached the Black Sea and created a draft throughout Russia. And in the summer, when there was a drought, everything burned out? The birch trees even fell asleep from the heat. And this one is the devil. He puffs, drenches himself in tar sweat, but does his job. And what an injustice! We sing about the birch tree in songs, we remember the bird cherry tree at every step. What are they against pine? Dependents! They only live because there is pine in the world...

“Well, you’re too much,” I objected, offended for the other trees.

- Yes, I love them all, Alexey. After the camps I became somewhat compassionate. Well, but still they are against pine... Not so. The character is not the same! – Igor said decisively. - Here, for example, is a spruce. The right tree - you can’t say anything. Why be cunning? Ooh, a tricky tree! I can see right through this spruce. Everything went to Suzema. Come on, get to her. Necessary railway pull, line swamps with bridges. “I myself will rot on the vine, but I will not give myself to a man.” What a tree! But in the dampness I can’t look at her directly. And it’s sickening to live like this, and now she’s shedding tears... The aspen is still getting on your nerves. And still she trembles, still trembles. It hurts to think about himself a lot...

Last year's cone fell at our feet. We both raised our heads. Mighty, knotty branches intertwined with each other, and in them, like in a well, a small window of blue sky, illuminated by the sun.

– That’s what power, Alexey! You won't bend! – Igor whispered admiringly. – I love it when the pine tree makes noise. She's not like spruce. In bad weather it howls like a dead man. And this one... Her feet are in the ground, her head is in space, and when she tightens her “club”, she makes the earth tremble. This is what a pine tree is, Alexey! Yes, we must bow at her feet. For faithful service. For always being at the forefront. He's not being cunning. Doesn't expect any reward!..

The sun was already hot when we returned to the village. There was a smell of bitter smoke in the morning air, which meant there were fires again...

Igor did not want to disturb Natasha. He lay down with me in the bathhouse and immediately fell asleep. I fell asleep in the sound sleep of a working man. And I lay there for a long time with my eyes open and thought about my comrade, about his father, about the pine trees...

Dog pride

About twenty years ago, who didn’t curse the regional outback when it was necessary to get out into the big world!

The northerner cursed doubly.

In winter, it’s a week-long torment on a sleigh, in the cold, through pitch-black spruce forests, slightly illuminated by distant twinkling stars. In a dry summer it’s no better either. Shallow, rapids rivers, plowed up by the spring flood, are drying up. The steamboat, sailing three to four kilometers per hour, constantly runs aground: it trembles, rubs its wooden bottom against the sand, screams until it becomes hoarse throughout the entire area, calling for help. And it’s good if there’s a village nearby, then the men, taking pity, will sooner or later pull them off with ropes, but if there’s desolation all around... That’s why the northerners relied more on their own traction. A batog in hand, a knapsack on the shoulders - and they wander, old and young, through the forest roads, fortunately they have an overnight stay under every bush, and a free berry to season their crackers. Not so now...

I love our rural airfields. It’s crowded – passengers are pouring in; sometimes you hang around for a day or two, watching with impotent envy a free hawk over a deserted airfield: circling around, not bound by any quirks of the local schedule...

But still good! It smells of meadow and forest, the river mutters, reviving half-forgotten childhood fairy tales...

One day, while waiting for a plane, I wandered along the grassy bank of Pinega, which was adjacent to the village airfield. The day was warm and sunny. The passengers, great in their patience, like true northerners, whiled away the time the old fashioned way. Some stretched out and dozed in the shade under a bush, some played the “fool”, some settled down in a camp and told jokes.

Suddenly they called out to me. I turned my head and saw a man in a white shirt with an open collar. He lay with his elbows in the grass, under a small willow bush, and looked at me with some sad, exhausted eyes.

- You will not know?

The man stood up and embarrassedly straightened his wrinkled shirt. His pale, untouched face was terribly disfigured; the nose is crushed, turned to the side, thin, sunken cheeks, covered here and there with reddish stubble, are tightened with scars...

- Well, how about it? I forgot Egor Tyrkasov...

Oh my God! Egor Tyrkasov... Yes, I had to hear that he was crushed by a bear, but... I just couldn’t believe that this thin, bald, somehow all down-trodden man was the same cheerful fellow Egor, the first hunter in the area, whom I desperately envied in school. years.

At that time Egor lived along the same river, in a remote village, about ninety kilometers from the nearest village. The forests along this river, while they had not yet been cut down, were teeming with animals and birds, and the river itself was filled with fish. Every winter, usually around New Year, Yegor left his lair, as he liked to put it, into the big world, that is, into the regional center. You never knew when he would come. Evening or night - suddenly there is a roar under the window: “Put on the samovar!” - and after that, in a white cloud, frost-covered, but always smiling, Yegor. And he left just as unexpectedly: he would go on a spree, get drunk to the nines, and remember his name. Only later will someone say: “They saw your Yegor, he’s coming home.”

“Yes, brother,” said Yegor when we sat down under a bush, “he returned from the war like a piece of glass.” At least it scratched somewhere. And here is a bear - damn her... And all because of herself, because of her stupidity. I wounded him - I should have fired a second shot, but I have pranks on my mind... So, don’t play with the beast! – Egor summed up briefly, as if excluding further questions.

I realized that he was tired to death of telling everyone he met the same thing, and turned the conversation to a neutral topic, but always close to a northerner:

- How are things with the beast today? Eat?

- Eat. Where did it go? People are hitting. - Yegor smiled tightly: - For me, the forest was ordered. Locked.

I nodded my head in understanding.

– Do you think it’s because of the bear? No, after that I killed a dozen more bears. The arms and legs are intact, but the face... What is the face? Going after the bear meant kissing the girl. No, man. – Yegor took a deep breath. “The drowning man struck me down.” So he killed me... I crushed him worse than a bear... I had a dog, he was called Drowning.

- It would be better not to remember this. The trouble in my life...

But in the end, sighing and wincing, Yegor gave in to my persistence.

-Have you ever been to our settlement? Don't you know the river? The fish river - even though it jumps from stone to stone. In the morning you will get up, while the woman is doing this and that, you are already with the fish. Well, probably about seven years ago, I was walking along the river one evening, setting up nets. And autumn is dark, you can’t see anything, rain pours down from above. Well, I’m going - and okay, I have to go up the hill, the house is nearby... What kind of trouble, - Yegor, as a man who grew up in the forest, very delicately addressed the merman and other evil spirits in conversation, - what kind of trouble? I hear some splashing near the shore. Is the little pike playing around or is the otter chasing fish? Well, just for fun, he slashed it with shot. No, I hear it again: tyap-tyap. OK. He walked up and struck a match. Right next to the shore, the puppy is dangling and can’t get out onto land. But the riddle, it turns out, is simple. A neighbor's bitch gave birth and brought five. Well, the thing is known: one, who is more powerful, for himself, and the rest into the water. I found out about this later, and then I took pity - this short man was clinging to life painfully! At home, of course, zero attention. What kind of dog is he? I didn’t even give him a dog name. Mitka-son: “Utopysh” and “Topko”, and so did my wife and I. Sometimes you even kick him when he gets under your feet. And just like that - I don’t remember, I seemed to be in a hurry to go hunting - I raised my foot on him. And he - what do you think? - grabbed me by the felt boots. Drowned - and such a temper! Here, perhaps, I saw him for the first time. He’s small enough to kill you with snot, but he’s all bristling, his muzzle is bared – he’s a pure beast. And the paw is wide - like a pillow, and the chest is not tall enough.

“Daria,” I say this to my wife, “he’s going to be a real bugbear. Feed him well."

Well, Daria knows her stuff. By spring the dog has grown tall - a sight for sore eyes! Only one ear fell off - the pellets were enough then. And at that time I had a little bear cub - I left it for the guy for fun. You know, there are five houses in the settlement - the child’s only joy is when his father comes home from hunting. Well, I see somehow Mitka is teasing the bear cub and poking him with a stick. My head started to work. Let the dog show living science on the beast. It makes your heart skip a beat—it’s a defenseless animal, on a leash, and if it’s necessary, it’s necessary. And before that I trained the dog - I became fiercer than a beast, people don’t come near me... Yes, this dog made me rich. I caught ten bears with him. I used to go into the forest and if there was an animal, it wouldn’t leave. He will put his head towards you or his sternum - that’s how smart the dog was! And he would have killed so many animals with him, but he himself, the fool, ruined the dog...

“Eh, it’s all a shame!..” Yegor suddenly cursed furiously. - Baba will sometimes say: “Well, he says, Yegor, learned people have thought of everything, they are going to fly to the stars, but they won’t come up with something like this so that a man won’t be drawn to vodka.” You see, I set a bear trap in winter. A pestun came out of the den, or maybe some kind of connecting rod. There are such bears. They probably won’t gain fat in the summer because of worms, and they’ll be staggering all winter. Yes, that year everything was different: consider that the bear didn’t really go to bed. Well, I installed it, and that’s fine. In the morning, I think, while the woman is getting dressed, I’ll run and check the trap. Where there. In the evening I was able to find another path. You see, in the evening the neighbor arrived from the logging station. At the logging station, he says, they provide wine. And the logging point is just around the corner from us - twelve kilometers away. When I heard about wine - the Sabbath. I can't find a place for myself. I probably didn’t have it in my mouth for about three months. Baba doesn’t take her eyes off me - the neighbor was talking to her. Knows his beloved. Thank God, we're hitting our fourth decade. How can I do it without swearing? And I don’t want to offend my grandmother either. And the demon, he makes his head spin, suggests all sorts of tricks: “What, I say, wife, my belly hurts. Ek is purring - at least he can run to the yard.” Well, I went out onto the porch. It's frosty, the sky is starry. Yes, I was without a hat in just a shirt and scratched. And the woman at home is worried: “I’ve been away from the yard for a long time, I’m sick, apparently.” She told me this later. She went out, she said, onto the porch: “Egor, Egor!..” And Egor scratched through the forest - only the fir trees flashed by. Okay, I think twelve miles is not a long way, I’ll be back in three hours. Your feet carry you through the frost on their own. Well, they brought me back... I got to the vineyard, found friends and walked around day and night. The woman arrived on a sleigh and held court. As soon as I drink, I become more humble than a lamb. Well, at that time the woman makes money and presents bills nicely. And when he’s firm, it’s according to my laws. The tongue will work in vain, but not to reach the hands. “I’m drunk, Yegor,” he says, “I’m not beating you, but your filthy body.” Well, then I processed it, I got up the next day - I didn’t recognize myself. Ino, maybe his friends helped out. Okay, I got up and looked, and how empty the hut was. Everything is in place, but empty... Then I remembered: where is my Utopysh? And so the dog is always with me. “Daria, I say, where is the dog?”

“He probably left for you. When you ran away from the yard, he howled and howled at night, and disappeared in the morning.”

Then it hit me like thunder. I remembered: after all, I have set a trap! I run as fast as I can, but my vision is blurry. There are no traces to be seen - the powder has fallen out. Well, I barely remember the rest... I ran up to the trap, and in the trap, instead of an animal, my Drowning sits... You see, at night he missed me: no. He howled and howled and ran to look for him. Where to look? A dog will not think ill of its owner. Can she really be so mean as to look for the owner of vodka? She is an eternal worker and thinks the same about her owner. Well, my trail to the trap is fresh. She, of course, is there... I saw a dog in a trap, staggered, fell into the snow, and howled. I crawl towards him... “Eat, I say, me, son of a bitch, Topko...”

And he lies by the trap - his front leg is broken, caught between the teeth and covered in blood and frozen. And I told you: my dog was wilder than a beast, he attacked people. Baba was afraid to give food too. In winter and summer he kept him on a rope and forgot to tell you: that evening, when the ghouls rolled up, I also put him on a rope. So he gnawed that rope, left, but, of course, did not gnaw the trap...

Well, I crawled to him. “Gnaw, dog! I destroyed you myself."

And do you know what he did? He began to lick my hand... I started crying here. I see that there are tears in his eyes.

“What, I say, have I done to you, friend?”

And he really was my first friend. How many times have you helped me out of trouble, saved you from certain death! And what a hard worker! Sometimes you get too lazy and don’t go out hunting – he carries out the plan for you. Either he will drive the hare, or he will hurt the fox. And then one day a wolf stole our sheep. He was missing for three days. He came - the whole skin was in tatters - and I was grabbed by the pants: let's go, the offender has been punished. This is the kind of dog I had, and such and such a dog I myself lost. If only he had growled at me then and rushed, it wouldn’t have been so offensive. I would endure any pain. And then the dog sheds more tears over me... Apparently, she was smarter than me, a fool, even though the speech was not given. He would have saved me and wouldn’t have let me get into such trouble. Well, I took him out of the trap, picked him up, carried him... Well, the leg healed, but not the dog. Previously, he would throw himself at people, but here he sits by the porch, with his muzzle in the air and still thinking about something. I didn’t bother tying it...

Well, I have a task - I need to carry out the plan. Hunter – I don’t live by my own will. What to do? I bought it on the deputy's side. The good dog was caught, although he’s not a bugbear. But I took squirrel and upland game well, I knew that. And that’s where the story came out... I brought the new dog home and began to get ready for the forest. He went out onto the porch. “Well, old man,” I say to Drowning, “rest. You were more on the hunt.”

Silent, as always. The muzzle is raised up. And as soon as I began to leave the yard with the new dog, he rushed after me. Everything was spinning before my eyes. I look, and the new dog is already wheezing - his throat is bitten... You know, he couldn’t stand it - he was a proud dog. How can a strange dog go hunting with its owner? I don’t know, I felt sorry for the money - I paid five hundred rubles for the dog - or I took offense, but I kicked Utopysh. I hit him, and now I can’t forgive myself. The dog toppled over, then stood up and limped away from me. And two weeks later he died. Stopped eating...

I don’t know, maybe I damaged some vein in him when I kicked him, but it shouldn’t have happened. He was a big dog - why should he get some kind of kick? It happened how many times I was under a bear, and then from a kick. No. It is, I think, that he died through pride. I couldn't bear it! Apparently, he reasoned like this: “Why did you, son of a bitch, catch me in a trap and then beat me? You yourself are guilty all around, but you take your anger out on me. Well, then you will remember me! Remember my dog pride! I will punish you forever." And he punished me... After I died, I never got a dog again. And he said goodbye willingly. What a hunt without a dog, but I can’t get another one. I can’t, and that’s all. The woman scolds: “You’re crazy, man. Without hunting, how will we live?” But I can not. Yes, it got to the point where I lost my home. I go out onto the porch, and I still see the dog. At night I hear his howl. I wake up: howling.

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Winter's Tale

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Allsubmit: Velvet September. Allsubmit: Velvet September I look at the dark tops of the shabby pines

Sacarius Topelius Winter's Tale

Winter's Tale

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Sampo-Loparenok

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Dog pride

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Sacarius Topelius
Winter's Tale