The beautiful maidens told the king what had happened. The king ordered all his subjects to be summoned, and asked: ‘Who is able to draw this sword out of the stone?’ But nobody could draw it out. Then the king made a proclamation: ‘To him that can draw out this sword I will give my daughter.’ The princes, as soon as they heard of this, decided to go thither. When they were making ready for the journey, the youngest asked his brothers to take him too. At last they consented to take him. When they arrived, they found a great uproar: people from all parts of the world were, in turn, laying hold of the sword, but could not draw it out. Last of all, the youngest brother came up, pulled out his sword, put it in the scabbard, and said to the king: ‘All three daughters are ours now, for I have two brothers.’ He called his brothers, and they took the three maidens to wife. Great merry-making began.
The king gave to the wife of the youngest prince a flying carpet, which carried away any one who sat on it. The princess sat on it, and followed her suite. The groomsmen and youths set out with them. When they had gone half way, a monster swooped down on the princess and carried her off. A sad uproar began, but what was to be done? The young prince said to his brothers: ‘Farewell! I must perish with her,’ and went away.
He went, he went, he went, he went as far as he could, and in a field he found a spring, beside which he lay down. There came a boy with a water jug. The prince asked: ‘Whose village is this?’ The boy replied: ‘Here dwell three brother demis, all married to daughters of one king.’
When the youth heard this he was glad, for it turned out that his sisters dwelt here. When he came near, the sisters went out to meet him. It is easy to imagine how glad they were to see him. When it was dark, the three demis returned. One of the sisters went out to meet them, and said: ‘My brother is come.’ The demis answered: ‘If the elder brothers are come, we can make roast meat of them, if it be the youngest, we shall know how to do him honour.’ The demis went in, and kissed the youth for joy at meeting him.
As they were all sitting round the hearth, the demis began to sigh deeply. The youth asked them: ‘Why do you sigh?’ ‘Why?—we are sorry for that poor damsel! Kazha-Ndii-Kerkun (i.e. the swift, flint-like demi) was carrying through the air a golden-haired woman; we pursued, but only succeeded in pulling off a lock of the woman’s hair.’ They showed the hair to the youth. As soon as he saw it he fainted, crying: ‘Ah! woe is me! woe is me!’ The demis asked him what was wrong. He told them all. As soon as day dawned, the youth arose, and made ready to depart. The demis were very sorry at this, but what could they do? They gave him a horse and a little dog.
The youth set out, and came to the house of Kazha-Ndii; but Kazha-Ndii was not at home. He dismounted, and went in to the princess; when they saw each other, their joy was so great that they fell to the ground. The princess said to him: ‘O youth, why hast thou sought thy doom? Against Kazha-Ndii thou canst do nothing.’ But the young man would not hearken, and lifted her on to his horse.
As soon as they reached the gate, it creaked so loudly that a star fell from heaven. The door cried: ‘Kazha-Ndii-Kerkun, where art thou? they have carried off thy wife.’ Kazha-Ndii heard this, and pursued them. When he was overtaking them, Kazha-Ndii’s horse neighed so loudly that it stopped the princess’s horse. The princess said to him: ‘O youth, did I not tell thee how it would be? Save thyself at least.’ Then Kazha-Ndii rode up, cut the youth into pieces, and carried his wife back. The little dog came up, gathered the scattered fragments of the young man’s body, put them in a bag, tied it to the saddle, mounted the horse, and took the body to the demis.
When the demis saw it they wept greatly, but their youngest brother blew the soul back into the pieces, and raised the youth to life. The prince arose, and again made ready to depart; the youngest demi said to him: ‘Here is my three-legged horse,[3] take him with thee; if he do not help thee there is no help to hope for.’ The youth mounted the horse, came again to his princess, took her and put her on the horse. When he was riding out of the gate it creaked more loudly than before. Kazha-Ndii heard it and pursued them. As he was overtaking them, Kazha-Ndii’s horse neighed, and the youth’s horse slackened its speed. The young prince said to his horse: ‘Why doest thou this?’ ‘What can I do? If I had a fourth leg I might be victorious.’ When Kazha-Ndii came near, the three-legged horse neighed so loudly that it stopped Kazha-Ndii’s horse. Then the youth came up to him, brandished his sword, cut Kazha-Ndii into halves, put the princess on his horse, and they rode merrily away. They visited the demis and then went home.
[1] demi, dii, ndii in Mingrelian, devi, mdevi in Georgian (connected with Pers. div), a representative of the principle of evil, but with certain limitations, neither incorporeal nor immortal, but half demon half man, i.e. an unclean spirit in the form of a giant. He is subject to death, even a man can kill, cheat, terrify him; he can marry a woman, etc.