Gold nail (fairy—tale)

Tisha grew without the father, in the poverty. Neither house nor home nor hen. The wedge of paternal earth remained only. Tisha and his mother walked according to the people. They toiled. And they did not have hope not for what happiness. The mother with the son of hand descended entirely:

— What to do? How to be? Where head to bow to?
They flow in four streams of tear, they wail into two voices. And, there is the reason. But howling and whining never helped the matter. One granny advised them to go to Zakhar the blacksmith.

— He can all,—she said. He even forges happiness.
Upon hearing that, mother threw to the blacksmith:
— Zakhar, you are said to be able to forge the happiness to my ill—starred son!
But blacksmith said:
—Oh, widow! The man is the blacksmith of his own happiness. Send your son into the smithy.
Maybe he’ll forge it.
Tisha came into the smithy. Blacksmith talked to him and said:
— Your happiness, fellow, in the gold nail. If you forge the gold nail, it will bring the happiness to you by itself.But you should help to it.
—But uncle, I’ve never forged!
— Neither me, said blacksmith, —I was also born not as a blacksmith!.

The blacksmith began to show how to fan the furnace by bellows, how to add carbons,how to soften iron by fire,how to take the shoeing by tongs.
Tikhon did not succeed in it immediately.His hands were broken, his feet were been down. His was not to be able to unbent the back in the evening. But he grew fond of blacksmith as a father.And blacksmith liked Tisha. Blacksmith did not have a son, only the daughter. But she is such a loafer –it is better not to remember. She does not have a mother, so where she would be the needlewoman from? But this talk not about her. The time came and Tisha became the hammerer.

Somehow blacksmith took old pin and said:
—Lets forge the gold happy nail from it.
Tisha has forged this nail for one week, for other, and this nail was becoming better daily. The blacksmith speaks on third week:
Do not reshoe, Tikhon! Happiness loves measure.
Tisha did not understand why blacksmith says these words.He has liked this nail very much..He even did not lead eyes from it. One is bitterly – the gold nail went out.
It cooled. It darkened.
— Do not grieve, Tisha, it will be gilded,— said the blacksmith.
— But when, uncle Zakhar?
— Then it will be gilded when you give to it all, that it requests.
— But it requests nothing, uncle blacksmith.
— Think Tisha. Indeed nail is forged to be lied without the use?
— You are right, uncle Zakhar. The nail must be driven somewhere. But where? We have neither house nor home,neither gates no paling.

The blacksmith thought, rubbed forehead and then said:
— Nail it into the post.
— Where can I take the post?
— Cut down in the scaffolding and dig in into the earth.
—I’ve never chopped, and I do not have an axe.
—But you have not forge before, and forged such a good nail. And you will forge axe. And you will cut down tree by it.
Bellows snuffled and began to breathe again, spangle rushed. Not immediately, not to swing, but in three days fellow gorged an axe to himself, hafted on the axe—handle by himself and left for the forest.
He liked one pine began to chop! He even had no time to cut he bark, as he was grabbed by the forester:
—Why are you, pilferer— robber, chopping the forest?
Tisha answered, who he is and from where, and for what he needs the pine post.
Forester sees that this is not pilferer before him, not robber, but widow son, the blacksmith Zakhar learner. He said:
—As the blacksmith learned you how to forge the gold nail, I will help you. Go into the forest, cut down plot – and you will obtain the post for your work.

On having no choice, Tisha went into the forest. On the third day he cut down the plot. Post was obtained, and Tisha carried it to the paternal earth. But the earth was overgrown with weeds— agrimony. There were no workers to work on it. Tisha brought post, but he could not to dig it in.
— Why do you grieve about the spade – said his mother.
— You forged the nail,you forged the axe — will you really not bend the spade?
Tisha made the spade less then in one day. He dug in deeply the post, and began to drive the happy nail. It is the small work — to drive a nail, when you have your own axe, and the axe has such butt—end,you even can dance on it. Tisha drove into the nail and began to wait, when it begins to become gold. He waited one day , two days, but the nail not only did not become gold,but began to grow brown.
—Mother,look here, it is being eaten by rust. It still requests something evidently. It is necessary to run off to the blacksmith. Tisha came to the blacksmith, described all, and then the blacksmith said:
—Nail can not be driven into without the matter. Any nail must perform its duty.
— What duty?
— Go to people and look, as nails serve them.
Tisha went on the village. And saw: some nails is used in sewing the boards, other, most slender,are used in catching up lath on rooves lath on the roofs, the others, the largest, are used in hanging the harness on them.
— Not otherwise, mother,we should hung up the collar on our nail. Otherwise the rust will eat all my happiness. Tisha said that and went to the saddler.
— How to earn the collar, Saddler?
— This trifling matter. Lets work on me to the hay—mowing, and from the hay—mowing — to the snow. Then you will get a collar and harness !
— All right, Tikhon said and remained with the saddler.
But the harness—maker was like the blacksmith. He did not troubled Tisha, but did not let him to sit without work either. He ordered to fit the boot—trees for yokes,or to prick the firewoods , or to plough the dessiatina. Not all was obtained immediately.

It was difficult, but it also was frighteningly to renounce from the collar. The nail cannot be driven without the matter. Time arrived to pay. Tihon obtained the best collar and complete harness. He brought this all and hung to the nail:
—Be gilded, my nail! I I’ve made all for you. But nail, true to life, frowned from under the head, keeps silent and does not become gold.
Tisha came to the blacksmith again, and the blacksmith said again:
A good collar with the harness cannot hang on the nail. The collar nahgs for something…
— For what?
—Ask the people.
Tihsa did not begin to ask the people, he thought. He thought a strongly bout the horse. He thought, thought and decided. He could chop, could saddle, could forge. “I won’t forge the gold nail, —solved Tikhon,—but I won’t be timided to stand as a mate”.
He said good—bye to his mother and went to earn a horse.
The year has not past yet— Tikhon came galloping on the horse into the native village. People will not admire:
— Oh, what a horse!
—Where this happiness to him from?
But Tisha did not look at them, he came to the post:
—Well, nail, now you have collar, and collar has a horse. Become gold!
But nail as was, so also there is. Although being quiet,now Tikhon thrown on to the nail:
—Are you rusty head jeering at me?
But the blacksmith were there at that time near the post:
— Well what speechless nail can tell you ? It doesn’t become gold — it means, it still requests something.
— But what?
— It is wrong that the post, the nail, the collar and the horse soak in the rain ! And Tisha began to cover post with the roof. He covered, but the nail doesn’t become gold. “It is evidently not enough one roof to it”, decided Tisha and started to chop the stable. Now he could everything.

Tisha chopped the stable, but nail didn’t become gold.
— Will you become gold somewhen? – he shouted angrily.
— Yes. Of course I will become the gold nail!
Tikhon’s eyes climbed on his forehead. The nail has kept silent before, and now—it began to speak! Evidently, he forged not the simple nail. But he didn’t know that the blacksmith laid on the roof at that time. He still was young, and he still did not learn how to crack fairy tales as nuts and how to choose the nuclei from them. He swallowed with a shell.
—Oh nail,what do you still need ?
The nail neighed instead of horse:
—Chi— chi… How can I live without the wooden plough!
—Hey you, Bulanko, do not neigh so sorrowful! I ‘ve already earned you, so then the wooden plough will be too.
I will forge the ploughshare and cut out the shafts by myself.
He forged, cut out, put right cross—arms, but he does not go to look at the nail. Another entered into the head.

If nail asked collar, collar — horse, horse — wooden plough, it is necessary to think, wooden plough will inquire tillage. Tikhon harnessed the horse into the wooden plough. The horse is neighing, wooden ploughis cutting layer, the ploughman is singing songs.
People came into the field and are looking at Tisha. The mothers are pushing out marriageable girls forward themselves. Perhaps, some girl will be taken the fancy.
And the blacksmith’s daughter here, on the plowed land too. She is following him as jackdaw, along the fissure. Unhappy and frowzy.
—Tishen’ka, take me marry! I will help you.
Tikhon even dashed aside from these words. Wooden plough wagged to the side. The horse began to look back not in an amicable way, because he was frightened by blacksmith fright.
—Are you in your mental, crow? — Tikhon said — Whom you such a fright is necessary to! Perhaps to the vegetable—garden – to frighten crows. But I don’t have the vegetable —garden.
But she said:
—I will plant the vegetable—garden and then I wll become the fright,if only I could see you, Tishenka.
—Such words seemed foolish to him, but they press close to his heart:
—“You see, how she loves me ! She agrees to be a fright so as to se me.
He answered nothing to her and went to the blacksmith.
But the blacksmith waited for him:
—Tikhon, I want to tell you: enviers want to take out your happy nail and drive in into their wall.
— But how it can be possible, uncle Zahar? What to do? It is necessary to guard now.
—Yes, dear son, yes, the blacksmith assented. — But how to guard? Rain in autumn, snow in winter. It is necessary to build izba.
But Tikhon to him:
—On I thinking, you said. I will go to chop izba. The axe exists, strength — although take away. There is no matter I fear!
People came again. Brides are here again. But he is chopping — the earth is shuddering, and the sun is laughing. And the light moon was being able to look and glad,because Tikhon worked at nights too.
Autumn came. Widow reaped bread. Tikhon thrashed it, and horse brought it to the market. Some utensils were brought to the new house. But nail doesn’t be gilded. And it is somehow sad on the soul.
— Why is it sad on the soul, dear son?
— I, mother, jumped out myself forward others. I outdistanced friends and left comrades.
I nailed to myself and hid the happiness from them.
— What are you said, Tisha? Each person is the blacksmith of his happiness. Zakhar taught you that way, didn’t he?
— Yes,he did, answered son. – But he also said that on the peace and death was red, and singly the happiness grows mouldy. All helped me: both the blacksmith and harness maker, and forester. But whom I help to?
Tikhon said that and went to this friends— comrades. Some friends he said right word , some— gave good advice, some—helped by his hands. He covered the widow’s roof. He repaired old man sleigh. He put youths to the matter.

The nail was gilded. – Beginning from the head it came to the middle. Happiness glanced into the house by merriment, bloomed, by the friendship of human.
People praised him. He was being styled as a dear friend. But nail burns more and more with every day.
— Now, said the blacksmith, you should get married, but you shouldn’t steped off. It will be light in the izba without the fire.
— A whose daughter will you advise him?
— Equal.
— But who is equal?
— My Dun'ka, the blacksmith said.
—You, dirty—faced swindler! — pitched the widow. – Is this kikimora an equal to him?
Frowzy, not brushed, not trained to the matter? IIs she equil to him? He is poppy color, magical hands, strong shoulders, filled body? Is it matter? Whether it heard that the eagle get married to jackdaw ?
— A who, widow, made him the eagle?
— Who? Nail did!
— A who advised him to forge the nail?
Then widow recalled all, and conscience began to speak in her. Conscience is speaking, but the maternal love is making herself heard. She wants he wouldn’t marry such a clumsy.
Pity whispers into the left ear to the widow: “ Don’t ruin your son”. But conscience says into the right ear: “The Blacksmith’s daughter grew without the mother , and so she is such a clumsy. He pitied your son, so you can’t leave his daughter !”.
—This is what, the blacksmith, the widow said. – Tisha will take his friends, to whom he drove into not two, not three tens of gold nails, to the earnings with the first snow. Let your Dunya come to me then. But tell her she wouldn’t contradict me.
The first snow fell out. Tikhon took his friends to the earnings –to gild nails. Dun'ka came to the widow.
— I heard, Dunyasha, you wanted my son to married you?
—I do. – swarthy Dyn’ka is being covered with tears and spreading mud on her face.
— I would turn inside out myself, if only he doesn’t dispel me from the eyes off!
— Well we will try. After all I, Dunyushka, as your father, conjure, when it is necessary. Widow said that and gave to Dynya:
— Plain it, Dunya, but there is a big strength in it. Somehow my grandfather caught hag in the scaffolding, and wanted to kill. But she paid off by this. It is strong spindle!
— Where it strength in, aunty? –Dunya asked and looked sideways at spindle.
The widow answered:
—If we spin the thin and long thread by this spindle, then you will be able to tie to yourself any you wants.
Dunya cheered up then and took the spindle:
— Let, aunty, I will spin!
— Do you think you can began yarn by such dirty hands and with such not combed hair?
Run home, sweat in the bath, wash, dress, then you will be spin.
Dunya ran home, washed, dressed and came to the widow as the beauty. The widow almost fell from the bench — and let to embrace and kiss Dunya:
— You are so beautiful! Lets spin!

Dunya began to spin, but the spindle is not being turned, the thread isn’t being twisted , the tow is being stretched by mound— lump, and tears, as pearls, are being rolled.
— It is ok,Dunyushka! My Tisha learned to forge, chopped the forest,earned the collar the same way… Spin!
She has spun two days. On the third day the thread began to be resulted.
—Look, aunty! Now I will tie him.
—But widow looked to the nail, she smirked to something and he said:
— You won’t do that by such thread. This thread can be used only in weaving the hessian. Come to the matter.
— But when I will, aunty, come to the matter?
— Then you will come to, when spindle begins to be gilded.
Dunya started the work. She spins skein after the skein,but spindle doesn’t changes.
There is a hard outside, snowstorms sweep, but spindle doesn’t begins to be gilded.
Dunya spun the entire tow began to cry.
The widow to her:
— Do not grieve, dear daughter! Spindle is not better than nail apparently.. It is not enough only threads to it. It wants linen. Lets weave.
— Oh, aunty! If we weave all the threads, what I will tie Tisha with?
But widow answered:
— The thread in the skein –it is the thread, and in the linen – it is strength.
By spring Dunya had weaved all threads. It was come out much linen.But she does not know how to be with the linen.
— It is necessary to sew the shirt from the linen. As he puts on the shirt, he will be yours.
Dunya started a new work. the widow helped her, sometimes she guessed by herself. The shirt was sewn first—rate, only there was nothing to stop eyes on: linen— it is only linen. Dunya didn’t take widow’s advice: she devised herself how to adorn the shirt.
She bought silk and beads, silver and gold — and began to embroider the shirt !
Not hands, not mind, but love itself did the beautiful pattern on the sleeves.
The pattern flowers by poppy. It shines by gold. It gleams by silver. It talks by beads.
Widow looked at the shirt and almost lost her tongue. The pattern breaks eyes, pinches the heart.
“The spindle must get gilded certainly!”
She gripped the spindle and secretly ran to the blacksmith:
— Tell me, my polite match—maker, swarthy swindler, what did you gild the nail with?
— Why do you ask?
— I must gild the spindle.
— Did mine come to the matter?
— Yes. Arrive and look, what pattern she embroidered!
Prince can be blinded.
The blacksmith opened trunk, took out drug and began to gild spindle.
—Don’t grudge the gild,dodger! Gild from the end to the end. She costs that, the widow said and began to hurry the blacksmith: she wanted to make Dunya happy for a while quicker.
On gilding spindle they both, as very young, skipping and at a gallop, ran to look at the shirt. On running to the widow house, they looked opened gates and Tisha’s horse in the court. Upon entering into the izba, they saw Tikhon standing out in new shirt. He didn’t take down his eyes from Dunya. The blacksmith extended gold nail from the wall , the widow took out gold spindle from the sleeve, and betrothed the fiance with the bride by them. There were many people and friends — is full of court.

All gathered. All like to see the happiness of Tikhon… Because he didn’t pass anyone with gold nails and turned sly the blacksmith gilding as working truth. For all. For everybody. He concealed it from nobody. Come and take! Drive into your gold nail, if you have hands!