Thar na haillte ag Aillte an Mhothair, bhí na gaoithe na sìos mar cheol traidisiúnta ag preabadh sa chluasa.

Over the cliffs at Aillte an Mhothair, the winds descended like traditional music bouncing in the ears.

Bhí an t-earrach i bhfad níos luaithe sular tógadh cuid den bhráidí go port i gCloch na Scuaibe, ach bhí spéirlingí gorma ar an spéir agus smaointe sona ag folamh gach duine a bhí ar an gCruinniú Idirnáisiúnta.

Spring had arrived much earlier before some of the boats were taken to port in Cloch na Scuaibe, but blue whirlwinds filled the sky, and happy thoughts emptied the minds of everyone at the International Gathering.

Bhí Aoife, grianghrafadóir nadúr a bhí ann, ag seasamh in aice leis an bhfinne, a radharc airgeadais fós forchníochtúil in intinn.

Aoife, who was a nature photographer, stood next to the edge, her financial perspective still dominant in her mind.

Bhí Aoife ar tí dul chuig éirí creimhtheanach an chnoic leis an ngrian á croí agus é mar aidhm aici an deo-thoradh a fháil.

Aoife was about to head to the eroded rise of the hill with the sun at her heart, aiming to capture the eternal outcome.

Níor ghlac sí le airde go deimhin.

She did not take the heights seriously indeed.

Lena thaobh, bhí Ronan, an cara is fearr léi ón gclachán beag céanna in aice le Loch Garman.

Beside her was Ronan, her best friend from the same small village near Loch Garman.

Bhí a fhios ag Ronan faoi eagla Aoife ar airde, agus bhí plean ina intinn chun beagán spraoi a chur isteach sna nóiméid sin.

Ronan knew about Aoife's fear of heights, and he had a plan in mind to inject a little fun into those moments.

Bhí sé ag cur in áirithe ceangal speisialta—fuaim gleo glór na faoileáin.

He was setting up a special connection— the gleeful sound of the seagulls.

Ach mhearaigh rud éigin.

But something went awry.

Ní fada ó Aoife, thosaigh Cian, blagálaí taistil is fearr le cultúr, scéalta drámatúla agus cuairteanna iontacha. Bhí sé ag caint le lucht leanúna samhlaíochacha ar an bhfón.

Not far from Aoife, Cian, a travel blogger fond of culture, dramatic stories, and fantastic visits, began speaking with imaginative fans on the phone.

Nuair a thosaigh Ronan ag seinm an ghuth seo lasmuigh, bhí faoileáin fíorscéalach ann ar an láthair.

When Ronan started playing that sound outside, there were real seagulls present on the scene.

Theastaigh an ghlór uathu, gan díobh saor.

They desired the sound, unwilling to give it up.

"ÁÁÁ, STOPAIGÍ!" ghlaoigh Cian go drámatúil.

"AAH, STOP!" Cian cried dramatically.

Thug sé le fios dó éirí mar a bhí ag na faoileáin a bhí ann faoi láthair amháin, ach choinnigh na faoileáin ag scuabadh thart air, atógadh a ghnúis le sorcadh dóite ón ngrian.

He suggested they rise like the seagulls that were solely present at that moment, but the seagulls continued to swipe around him, his face reconstructed with a sunburnt glow.

Thug Aoife aghaidh airde, bhí a hanáil ag teacht go gasta, ach fuair sí giotaí foirfe den saol ar an ailte, le Cian ábhartha sna cúlra, dégrainne faoileáin ag caitheamh seaftaí.

Aoife faced her fear of heights, her breath coming quickly, but she captured perfect bits of life on the cliffs, with Cian in the background, streaks of seagulls casting shafts.

Chaith sí clabhtaí coimhthíoch ón áit a sheas sí, agus bhí an comhar molta taobh istigh dá súil.

She threw exotic smiles from where she stood, and the collaborative energy was evident in her eyes.

Le srón ghréine á foscadh léi, d'éirigh sí le crith mín óna siúlacha, níos muiníní, níos fearr faoi dheireadh.

With the sun shielding her face, she rose with a gentle tremor from her steps, more confident, better in the end.

Díreach mar a thosaigh Cian ag greannú ar cheisteanna neamhghnách, dhiúltaigh na faoileáin go maorga.

Just as Cian began joking about unusual questions, the seagulls majestically receded.

D'éirigh Aoife leabhra talún den ghrianghraf ag an gcoimhlint idir Cian agus na faoileáin, osclóidí a bhí ann a chuir rathléi ar an gcomórtas.

Aoife rose with a portfolio of photographs of the conflict between Cian and the seagulls, which opened doors that contributed to her success in the competition.

Bhí barr feabhais bainte amach aici mar ghrianghrafadóir, bhí a dhaonra diúltach, agus bhí a bród níos fearr ná aon eagla a bhí aici riamh.

She had achieved excellence as a photographer, her audience was approving, and her pride was greater than any fear she ever had.

Ag Breadh Idirnáisiúnta Aillte an Mhothair, bhí an solas na gréine faoi éide, an trá ag Croch Amuigh le mais deática, fuschite coire leis, sin an t-am a dhún Ann Bhréanna méad ó bhunmharfóirí néalaithe.

At the International Gathering of Aillte an Mhothair, the sunlight adorned the scene, and the beach at Croch Amuigh shone with a mass of azurite, copper fuschite; that was the moment when Ann Bhréanna flourished from oblivious creators.

Bhí an ócáid sin go h-iontach i ngach daoine ann, is é seo an scéal a bhí ina hatiúir áthasach.

The event was wonderful for everyone there; it was a story of joyous hearts.