Bhí an fómhar ag mealladh go grinn os cionn na gClochach Mór.

The autumn was enticing gracefully over Clochach Mór.

Bhí Aoife, Cormac, agus a seanmháthair Siobhán ag bailiú ag an imeall.

Aoife, Cormac, and their grandmother Siobhán were gathering on the edge.

Bhí an ghaoth ag tabhairt fúithi, an fharraige ag bualadh faoi na creagaí thíos.

The wind was attacking, the sea hitting below the rocks.

Bhí an áit saibhir le scéalta agus rúin an bealaigh theaghlaigh.

The place was rich with stories and secrets of the family path.

Thug Aoife súil ar an radharc os a comhair, na farraigí is a thírdhreach a bhí chomh seanda sin le fuil a muintire.

Aoife gazed at the view in front of her, the seas and landscape as ancient as the blood of her people.

Bhí sí fiosrach i gcónaí faoi stair a clainne, ach bhí rud éigin faoi na Cluainte a d'alp cuid den stair sin a bhí fós faoi scáth.

She was always curious about her family's history, but there was something about na Cluainte that swallowed part of that history which was still in the shadows.

Bhí Cormac ann, áfach; chomh praiticiúil is atá sé i gcónaí.

However, there was Cormac; as practical as he always was.

Cé nach raibh sé chomh díograiseach faoi sheanchas a chlainne, bhí sé breá sásta tacú le hAoife.

Although not as enthusiastic about his family's legacy, he was quite happy to support Aoife.

Ar ais leo, bhí Siobhán, leuréiseach ach stuacach.

Behind them was Siobhán, wise but stubborn.

Bhí a cuid scéalta sean agus úr ag an am céanna, ach ní raibh sí réidh anailís iomlán a thabhairt go deo.

Her stories were both old and new at the same time, but she was never ready to provide full analysis.

"Cén fáth nach roinneann tú é?" d'fhiafraigh Aoife láithreach agus iad ag siúl.

"Why don't you share it?" Aoife asked immediately as they walked.

Chaith sí súil ar Siobhán, súil a bhí lán de mheitheal agus de dhóchas.

She cast a hopeful look full of determination at Siobhán.

"Tá cuid de na scéalta níos fearr fágtha i síocháin," a dúirt Siobhán go mear, a súile ar an bhfarraige.

"Some stories are better left in peace," said Siobhán swiftly, her eyes on the sea.

Ach le tacaíocht Cormaic, thug Aoife fúithine féin ar thóir eolais.

But with Cormac's support, Aoife set out on a quest for information.

Shiúil sí suas le ciumhais na gCarraig.

She walked up to the edge of the rock.

Chroith an ghaoth a cuid gruaige, a hintinn gafa ag fuinneamh na háite.

The wind tousled her hair, her mind captivated by the energy of the place.

Bhí sé cosúil le seanchas a mhair ina chuis an-aer timpeall uirthi.

It was like a saga that lived in the very air around her.

Bhí Aoife sa dorchadas faoi a ithe, ach bhí intinn an-mhór aici anois.

Aoife was engulfed in darkness about it, yet her mind was resolute now.

Bhain sí amach croí na n-anamacha a bhí ag teacht chun solais ar feadh na mblianta.

She reached the heart of the souls that were illuminating for years.

Thug sí aghaidh ar Siobhán, fios aici go raibh uirthi an doras sin a oscailt go dtí an stair.

She turned to Siobhán, knowing she had to open that door to the past.

"Inis dom, a Mhamó. Inis dom scéal ceart."

"Tell me, Grandma. Tell me a real story."

Bhí Siobhán ciún, súile a ghabhadh brón agus faoiseamh, ar Aoife.

Siobhán was silent, her gaze capturing sorrow and relief, looking at Aoife.

Ar deireadh, thosaigh sí ag labhairt, ag sreabhadh na focla cosúil le síorghuth na farraige.

At last, she began to speak, the words flowing like the eternal voice of the sea.

Nocht sí an finscéal teaghlaigh, scéal faoi ngrá, faoi chathanna, agus faoi chaillte.

She revealed the family legend, a tale of love, battles, and loss.

D'athraigh gach rud tar éis dó.

Everything changed after that.

D'aontaigh an teaghlach trí roinnte neanscéalta.

The family united through the sharing of stories untold.

Bhí Aoife sásta, a croí ar mhuin na muice le heolas nua.

Aoife was content, her heart soaring with new knowledge.

Bhí brú ollmhór séanta ag Siobhán freisin, faoiseamh le filtiú a cuid scéalta.

A massive weight was lifted from Siobhán too, relief flooding through her as she unfolded her stories.

Ón lá sin ar aghaidh, bhí siad ina gceangal le chéile, d'oidhreacht agus don fuil a thug suaimhneas dóibh.

From that day on, they were bound together by the heritage and the blood that gave them peace.

Bhí na Cluainte ina sheasamh fós, mar fianaise d'áilleacht ársa agus a thábhachtaí atá scéalta teaghlaigh.

na Cluainte stood still, a testament to ancient beauty and the importance of family stories.