Now even the best of knights needs help sometimes. And when knights (or princesses, for that matter) need help, it most likely comes when they are helping others. So it happened one autumn day, in a village far to the East, on the banks of the River Ob, that Mikhail received help that he desperately needed, though he didn't know it at the time.
The noble knight had just fought off three very ill-tempered, armor-tarnishing trolls who had been tearing apart the poor village house by house. As was his habit, Mikhail remained to help the townspeople rebuild their homes before the long, cold winter began. While lifting a particularly heavy log onto the wall of the new church, he heard a quiet voice behind him.
“You are Mikhail Andreyevich, the Knight,” it said.
“I am,” puffed Mikhail without turning around. He did not mean to be rude, but the heavy log required his full attention.
“You go about doing much good,” the voice whispered. “You have slain many fearsome dragons. It must be very tiring to hunt them on foot. Perhaps I can help.”
“Oh?” Mikhail turned around and found himself face to face with a beautifully large, white horse with snowy mane, powerful bearing, and a polished saddle as black as the night sky. Mikhail tried to peer around the magnificent animal to see who had spoken. “Hello?” he said.
“Yes,” replied the horse matter-of-factly as it pawed the rich earth with its hoof, “I am right here, of course.”
Mikhail stared at the beautiful animal with his mouth open, unsure of what to say next. After all, he had never talked with an animal before.
“You're...you're a horse,” he finally stammered, feeling rather silly for saying something that was rather obvious.
“I'm a stallion,” the white horse whispered with a shake of its mane. It seemed to think this was a perfectly natural and satisfactory answer. “My name is Spirit.”
“Oh,” said Mikhail, still more than a little confused.
“I know that you try to be faithful and true in all that you do,” Spirit continued. “That is why I am here. If you allow it, I will be your companion.”
Of course, everybody knows that a noble knight needs a noble horse. And even the ashrooms could not dull the loneliness that Mikhail felt on his long journeys through the forest. A hero's life can be a solitary one...and a man can accomplish much more good when he doesn't work alone. Two days later, with his armor freshly polished, warm bread from the grateful villagers in his pack and the autumn leaves falling around him, Mikhail swung up on to Spirit's beautiful black saddle.
“Truth be told,” the knight confessed, “I never was a good horseman.”
“Oh that matters little,” Spirit whispered in reply as he began to ford the River Ob with powerful strides, “for I am a stallion.”
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