A wide, wild river ran past a small village, and the village needed to cross it to reach their fields on the other side. But the river was proud and tricky, and it had a rule: anyone who wished to cross must answer its riddle. Those who answered wrongly were swept gently but firmly back to the bank, soaked and stuck, unable to pass.
For years the villagers had been trapped on their side, their fields untended, because no one could ever solve the river's riddle. Then a clever girl named Dara decided to try.
Dara walked to the water's edge and called out boldly, "River, I wish to cross!" The river rose up in a shimmering, watery face and chuckled. "Then answer me this," it gurgled. "What can run but never walks, has a bed but never sleeps, and a mouth but never speaks?"
The villagers behind her groaned, for they had all heard this riddle before and none had solved it. But Dara only smiled, because she had spent many quiet hours sitting by the water, watching and thinking.
"That's easy," Dara said. "The answer is a river. You run but never walk. You have a bed of stones but never sleep. You have a mouth where you meet the sea, but you never speak a word — you only gurgle riddles." The river's watery face wobbled in surprise. No one had ever answered correctly before.
"You are clever," the river admitted, a little grumpily. "Very well. You may cross." And it parted to let her walk through on the dry stones below.
But Dara did not cross right away. "Wait," she said. "It isn't fair that only the clever may cross. My whole village needs to reach the fields. Let me make you a bargain, River." The river was curious. "What bargain?" "Each morning," said Dara, "we will clear the fallen branches and leaves that clog your flow, so you can run clear and free. And in return, you let us all cross whenever we need to."
The river thought about how pleasant it would be to run unclogged and clean. "Agreed," it rippled.
And so it was. Every morning the villagers tended the river, pulling away the branches and clearing the banks, and every day the river let them cross to their fields and home again, dry and safe. The fields bloomed. The village prospered. And the proud river, once so tricky and alone, found that it rather liked having friends who cared for it.
"You needn't always beat a river," Dara would say. "Sometimes it's wiser to make it your friend."
And from then on, the river and the village looked after one another, and neither was ever stuck or lonely again.