Sükhe regarded the dead body of his once-perfect white horse… and wailed louder than the wind that tore o’er the land. The hand of his neighbour’s lord was in that. All that day, Sükhe wept, his father despairing he’d ever stop weeping.
Hush, his horse whispered to him in the night. Dry your eyes and listen… take my bones and form them into a long neck. See how? And the horse showed him how. Now take my skin and use it to cover a soundbox. And take my hair and from it form strings. And atop the neck carve my head. See how? And the horse showed him how.
The next day, Sükhe did as his horse’s spirit had shown him.
“What is it?” asked his father.
“It is my morin khuur, my horsehead fiddle. So my horse and I together can still ride the wind.”
146 words, written for What Pegman Saw: Mongolia
There exist two stories to account for the first creation of the morin khuur… this is my take on one of those.
And for those who want a taste of the horseheaded fiddle … as performed by the Dutch Pagan Rock band Omnia. And it’s worth listening through to the 3 minutes mark, as it then livens up