As the golden light of the setting sun draped itself over the cascading waters of Wira Falls, a solemn hush settled between the two figures standing amidst the wild embrace of nature.
The rhythmic roar of the falls filled the evening air, an ancient melody that had echoed through these lands for centuries.
Havi, his spirit alight with purpose, turned towards Grandfather Har, eager for the next step in their grand endeavour.
"Grandfather, we now have a plan. What else must we prepare?" he asked, his voice tinged with anticipation.
The old man, who had seen many years rise and fall like the tides of time, regarded the boy with measured patience.
He drew a deep breath, allowing the crisp mountain air to fill his lungs, before speaking.
"A plan, no matter how well conceived, is but a shadow until given form," he said at last. "What matters most is not the vision itself, but the hands that will shape it."
Havi furrowed his brow, "Then I shall gather men to aid us," he declared with youthful determination.
Grandfather Har's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though his head shook in quiet admonition.
"It is not so simple, Lad," he said.
"Strength alone will not see this through. It is trust that you must seek, not mere skill or force of limb. A man may wield the might of ten, yet if his heart is corrupt, he will bring ruin upon all that we build."
Havi fell silent, pondering the weight of these words.
Until this moment, his thoughts had been fixed solely upon the physical task of constructing the waterwheel.
He had not considered the souls who would stand beside him in the endeavour.
The old man's gaze turned once more to the waterfall, his eyes tracing the endless descent of the rushing current.
"And there is another matter still," he murmured.
"Patience, Lad. This is no work of a day, nor of a mere handful of weeks. The river has carved its path through rock and earth for uncounted years."
"If you seek to harness its power, you must first understand its ways. Watch how it moves, how it bends yet never breaks, how it shapes the stone without destroying it. Nature whispers its wisdom to those who care to listen."
A hush fell between them, disturbed only by the soft rustling of the trees and the murmuring voice of the falls.
The scent of damp earth and fresh water filled the air, mingling with the crisp coolness of the approaching night.
"And above all," Grandfather Har continued, his voice now low and deliberate.
"Never allow yourself the folly of believing you can command the river."
"No man may tame it, Havi. Not kings, nor scholars, nor even the greatest of engineers. The river bows to no master. It flows as it wills, as it always has, as it always shall."
"If you fight it, it will turn upon you, and all that you build will be swept away in its wrath."
Havi's chest rose and fell with measured breath as he absorbed the gravity of these words.
His task was greater than he had imagined, not merely one of wood and stone, but of wisdom and humility.
He would need to choose his companions with care, to observe the river's course with patience, to work alongside nature rather than against it.
"I understand, Grandfather," he said at last, his voice steady.
"I shall heed your words. I will not act in haste. I shall learn from the river before I dare to touch it, and I will gather only those whose hearts are true."
Grandfather Har studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod of approval.
"Good," he said.
"Then we begin with the first step. We must find the place where the river shall grant us passage, where it may yield a portion of its strength without resistance."
Havi remained silent for a moment, his thoughts weaving through the old man's wisdom like the river winding its way through the valley.
He understood now that this was not merely a task of labour, but of understanding, patience, and trust.
Yet, even with this newfound clarity, a question still lingered in his mind. He turned once more to Grandfather Har, his eyes reflecting the quiet determination that had begun to take root within him.
"Grandfather," he asked, his voice steady.
"If we are to build this waterwheel with nothing but what the land provides, what materials must we seek? And what method shall we use to shape it?"
Grandfather Har exhaled slowly, as if sifting through the memories of a lifetime spent learning from the world around him.
He glanced towards the towering trees that lined the riverbank, the smooth stones that lay nestled in the shallows, the vines that draped themselves over the rocky ledges.
"We shall need strong wood, Havi, wood that will endure both time and water's embrace."
"The mountain gifts us with bamboo and teak,.each with its own virtue. The wheel must be sturdy, yet not so heavy that the current cannot turn it."
He gestured towards the riverbed, "The stones will serve as our foundation, firm and unyielding."
"Flat river rocks, the kind that have been polished smooth by the water's passage, will provide a steady base."
"As for the bindings, we shall weave ropes from the toughest vines we can find, for iron and nails are beyond our means."
Havi nodded, his mind already tracing the shape of their creation, "And how shall we construct it, Grandfather?"
A knowing smile touched the old man's lips, "As men have always built, with our hands and the wisdom of those before us. We shall cut, carve, and bind."
"We will shape the paddles to catch the water, balance the weight to ensure it turns with ease, and place it where the current's embrace is neither too fierce nor too weak. Nature will not yield to force, but if we listen, it will show us the way."
Havi absorbed every word, a sense of purpose swelling within him.
This was no grand feat of modern engineering, no structure forged by steel and industry, but something far older, far truer, born from the land itself.
"Then we begin at dawn," he said firmly.
Grandfather Har nodded in quiet agreement, his gaze lingering on the river, as though seeking its silent blessing.
The night deepened around them, the roar of Wira Falls a steady heartbeat against the hush of the wild.