I wish that God to you made good that with good you long lived that the evil bypassed you that the good found you to what to speak-tell, I will tell you one fairy tale, I will tell a sword miracle to you, prick up ears of a roe, wolf open eyes! There was it very long time ago when the seen glacial mountains were higher, than now when at their tops there was no snow and ice, and there were different flowers, pleasantly smelling herbs when in deep gorges, on hillsides never the thawing snow and glaciers were.
I will tell you since what time of wons at that top of Bashlam snow lies, I will tell you since what time on flat fields, on hillsides pleasantly smelling herbs, different flowers seemed.
At that time our ancestors of nart-orstkhoys inhabited deep gorges, high towers and caves. They were big growth, are similar to these mountain rocks. Their horses were large too. Like bears, strong were nart-orstkhoys, are similar to wolves, courageous there were they, like tigers, dexterous there were they, like foxes, cunning were nart-orstkhoys. They a hand easily tore off pieces of mountain rocks and threw them, the shout they forced to shiver heaven, nevertheless, they were ailing — they had no fire.
And mighty Cela was ruthless, was ruthless. He was an owner of the sky, and fire was its property. On what force when from it people do not have use? What advantage at most when people suffer from it?
To show the force of nart-ortskhoys, sat down Got on fiery chariots and over heavenly heights it was rolled, lifting a terrible roar as though breaking on pieces, the heavenly arch collapsed.
O-au! As it surprised people!
O-au! What fear it inspired in the earth!
The heavenly dwelling of Cela was eternally shrouded in black clouds. Filling with a rain, clouds were overthrown on the earth by Cela. And the rain in the form of a hail ice went on the earth, a scolding on people there are even more grief and disaster. From fire rainbow of the made onions he began to throw on the earth of a lightning, breaking. Both kindly, and angrily were in the power of Cela.
On the evil Cela was generous, and he was avaricious on good.
People took good from it hardly, Cela himself gave the evil.
Between the sky and the earth there was an eternal hostility!
Between Cela and the person there was an eternal fight!
The more nart-orstkhoys were depressed by a grief and misfortune, the Cela gloated over more; the Cela’s mood was better, the Sata, Cela’s beloved, mother of nart-ortskhoytsev was more sad. Sata very much wanted to help nart-orstoytsam, but was afraid of Cela.
At that time there lived in mountains mighty nart Pkharmat. The excellent smith was Pkharmat. For the kind word from cold bronze he to nart forged swords, boards and chain armors. And the kind word is highly appreciated in mountains: yes there will be to you happiness! Yes there will be to you a good luck! The victory yes will be for you! You be free! Pkharmat was to modest, generous, strong nart. He spoke a little, thought much. He thought, as well as than to help a human grief, as if to get fire. Cela good did not give it. Since it was born, it collected everything that there was the best in people: force, dexterity, sharp mind, skill, patience.
The horse his Turpal went in mountains at liberty.
— The horse becomes tempered under a saddle and the rider, and the man — in work and fight! So why your Turpal always goes on freedom? — asked narts. Pkharmat answered:
— My horse is tempered. Time will come and my horse will bring the smoldering brand from the heavenly center! Nart-orstkhoys frankly laughed at Pkharmat’s words. And Pkharmat thought of that, as if to help a human grief.
Also Pkharmat of the Turpal shouted. And from this shout the gorge of Argun rang out, began to tremble mountains, and mighty Cela, having woken up, turned over on other side.
Turpal grazed far in mountains, having heard call of the owner, began to neigh in reply, and from it as waves of Argun, mountains were filled, and waters of Argun poured out from the marble coast (animals in mountain spurs from a fright froze as driven). With a speed of a lightning Turpal to the owner came tearing along.
Pkharmat took a mace in hand, attached to an elbow from leather of a bison the made board, hung up on a neck onions (God’s weapon), girded sideways a holster full of arrows, invested the camp with a chain armor, girded a sword, squeezed in a hand a spear with a copper tip. Having saddled Turpal-horse, drank a full tury horn a yiya, sentencing, “that as on pitch the leg kept that as on the test the hand kept”, sat down on a horse and went there where nobody went and from where nobody came back.
Nart-orstkhoys strewed millet on the road on which Pkharmat that happiness accompanied it had to go, put filled with millet морк, “that left easy-empty, came back heavy – filled!”. Long Pkharmat went. Seven days, seven nights it stayed in a way. It passed seven gorges, seven mountains and Bashlam which props up the heavenly arch on which there lives Cela approached, at last, the foot of the highest mountain. The long and difficult way was done by Pkharmat, rising by mountain top on its heavy ledges. At top of the mountain there were pleasantly smelling herbs, different flowers and beautifully singing birds.
Occasionally on top of the mountain sunfaced Sata, Cela-Sata, Cela’s beloved, mother of nart-ortskhoys went down to have a rest. Having turned back a bird, there was it towards to Pkharmat. By a human voice she started talking:
— Hey, mighty nart, you with an ulterior motive rose by Bashlam’s top.
— The truth it, a generous bird, I with an ulterior motive rose by Bashlam’s top. I arrived behind the burning brand from the heavenly center and without it I will not return — Pkharmat answered.
— Happiness cannot but accompany the one who with a good intention left. I will help you.
Horse fast di at you? — Cela-Sata asked.
— Quicker than wind my horse.
— Whether your horse is strong?
— My horse is strong. Where my horse will strike with a hoof, there the spring is formed.
— Whether you are strong?
— In my hands cold bronze is softer than pitch and wax — Pkharmat Cela Sate answered. Also Cela-Sata told to Pkharmat, by what way it is possible to reach Cela’s center and as to get the burning brand from it told.
— Cela sleeps now. As wind, having quickly rushed off, let your horse will jump through the center. And you bend down at this time, be enough a brand and drive the horse directly on Bashlam’s top. Take care! Cela is terrible, Cela is cruel! If he wakes up, live will not leave and will not carry fire.
Pkharmat and arrived as advised Sata.
Having quickly dispersed, Pkharmat’s horse blew over Cela’s center. At this time, having bent down, from the center Pkharmat grabbed the burning brand and rushed off on Bashlam’s top. From speed of Turpala-konya from a brand tongues of flame as if the long tail reached for Pkharmat rose. Also Cela woke up from the fact that these fiery languages got to him into nostrils. He saw as courageous nart from the sky fire bears on the earth to people.
Very much Cela got a fright, knowing that the person if fire falls of him into hands, will become strong and courageous and will try to rise against it.
The terrible pursuit was undertaken by him for courageous to nart.
Cela untied a wineskin with dark night. Also it became so dark that Pkharmat did not see fingers of the hands and ears of a horse. Ceased to see also nart, and his horse. Just about will break in an abyss. But the wonderful bird Cela-Sata departed ahead of their and the wonderful singing showed them the road. Cela sees that dark night not in forces to stop Pkharmat and his horse. And it untied the second wineskin with a terrible storm. The strong storm and dark night nearly ruined a courageous nart and his horse. But the wonderful bird showed them the road the fine singing.
Courageous nart saw that the storm extinguishes its brand, and it, without reflecting, hid fire for a bosom. For strong nervousness of water of Argun were spilled from a stone tesnina, the big oaks which are pulled out with roots from the earth rushed in the sky as straws.
Cela sees what neither dark night, nor a strong storm not in forces to stop nor a narta, nor his horse that it whole and safe evades heavenly pursuit. Also Cela opened the third wineskin with a burning frost. From a burning frost with terrible noise rocks cracked and mountains shrank. But fearless nart Pkharmat and him Turpal-horse continued to go forward.
Immoderately Cela got a fright. He saw how courageous nart and his horse already approach Bashlam’s bottom, and they just about can
to disappear in a cave. Here he with rage grabbed the onions, from fire and a beam made and began to throw lightnings after a nart. From a lightning mountains shuddered, the frozen springs thawed, and waves of Argun as a flock of a kutan, ran up on hillsides, high mountain steep slopes began to tremble, precisely live.
Neither the burning frost, nor strong storm, nor dark night, nor lightnings could stop and bring down from a way of a fearless nart of Pkharmat and his horse of Turpal.
They came to that cave where they were waited by nart.
— Take! Here to you fire! — Pkharmat told, addressing to surprised nart-orstkhoystsam. — In each tower, in each cave, in each house kindle a flame!
Yes there will be in each house a lot of fire, heat and light!
Yes there will be to you happiness!
And in mountains there was a great rumble at this time. The sky declared to the earth the eternal hostility. People declared to the sky the eternal fight.
— Be happy! — shouted fearless nart once again.
In mountains there was a terrible noise from a heavenly thunder and flashes of a lightning at this time.
— Be happy, people! I have to indulge in eternal torment! I will indulge in flour to relieve you of Cela’s anger! Do not grieve for me! — and, having left a cave, Pkharmat through lightnings, cold, dark night and a storm went to the mountain Bashlam fearless nart.
Over his head lightnings flashed, the storm threw it in different directions, his hands and legs grew numb from cold, the outer darkness of night shrouded it. This is Cela, having been angry, vomited rage.
Having caught sight of a courageous nart of Pkharmat going to the heavenly arch on Bashlam’s top, slowly, Cela in the wineskins tightened a storm, cold and night. Gradually on plains, gorges and hillsides from below up, after Pkharmat, thawing, above and above to the top of Bashlam snow and permafrost rose.
Bashlam’s top was held down by snow and ice, she forever put on to the own harm white, snow башлык. Also Cela shouted:
— Yes you will be eternally eager for fire which you carried away from the sky. You will be eternally eager for heat!
Also Cela towards to Pkharmat sent the faithful servant, one-eyed I Will fish, with bronze chains. Bound one-eyed I Will fish Pkharmat bronze chains to ice top of Bashlam.
Cela damned it. Since then it was so moved: all kind is damned by god, everything that is damned by god, approved by the person! Between heaven and earth there is an eternal hostility! Between the person and Cela there is an eternal fight!
Every morning the tsar of all birds — Ida arrives to the attached Pkharmat.
Sitting down on Pkharmat’s knees, it sets every time the same question:
— Hey, unfortunate Pkharmat! Hey, pathetic Pkharmat! Whether you repent that you made? If you regretted, I will not touch you if did not regret, I will peck your liver! Neglecting terrible torments to which it will be exposed, always the same answer, speak, Pkharmat gives:
— No! I did not regret. I gave to people heat and light! It is impossible to regret a perfect kind act.
And Ida, having ground the same hour about the silicon rock the steel beak, begins to peck Pkharmat’s liver.
Pkharmat-nart does not make a sound. His eyes are never moistened. With big courage and patience he transfers this great torture and pain. Since then, speak, at Vainakhs nart-orstkhoyssky men never cry! From now on snow and ice lie at Bashlam’s top. On Bashlam’s top where Pkharmat is attached, Cela from plains and gorges, from mountain clones collected all snow, all ice to spite of Pkharmat to increase his thirst to heat, fire. From now on on slopes of mountains, in gorges, on plains warmly. And this heat from fire brought by Pkharmat from the sky. From now on at the foot of the mountain, on plains pleasantly smelling herbs, different flowers grow, beautiful, wonderful birds lodged in them, and at Bashlam’s tops — permafrost, an eternal storm, the glacier never thawing, hardened. In the same place Pkharmat is attached. It will be in eternal torment. But never he will die. He will live forever!
Chokayev K. Z. To a question of an existing of an image of Prometheus in folklore of Chechens and Ingushs//Izv. Checheno-ingush. Research institute of history of language and literature. 1972. T.6. No. 3.