Ó árdas na gaoithe, d'fhéadfaí éisteacht leis an bhfarraige screadach in ainseal na gcladach.

From the heights of the wind, one could hear the sea roaring in the era of the shores.

Bhí an fómhar tagtha, agus bhí mist sa spéir ag bagairt.

Autumn had arrived, and mist was threatening in the sky.

Bhí an láthair drámatúil, an tAillt Mhothair, á sciúcha ag an bhfarraige, agus bhí an chosán contúirteach faoin tsúilisge.

The dramatic scene, an tAillt Mhothair (the Cliffs of Moher), was being scoured by the sea, and the path was dangerous under the drizzle.

Bhí Niamh, Cillian, agus Aoife ag siúl an chosáin, gach ceart go hamhrasach as an aimsir urlabhartha agus mearbhallach.

Niamh, Cillian, and Aoife were walking the path, all cautious of the erratic and unpredictable weather.

Bhí Niamh ag taitneamh as an turas.

Niamh was enjoying the journey.

Thaitin an fharraige léi, na tonnta ag bualadh na gcloch agus boladh an tsáile san aer.

She liked the sea, the waves crashing against the rocks, and the smell of saltwater in the air.

Ach bhí Cillian ag breathnú an-bhuartha.

But Cillian looked very worried.

Chonaic sé an scáthán gorm ag dul as radharc nuair a sháraigh an ceo an dearcadh.

He watched the blue horizon disappear as the fog obscured the view.

Níor thaitin seo leis.

He didn’t like this.

Bhí sé cúramach, ag iarraidh coinneáil leis an gclár.

He was careful, trying to keep to the path.

Aoife, áfach, bhí ag iompar cheilt.

Aoife, however, was carrying a secret.

Níor inis sí an fáth ar theastaigh ón gcosán seo uaithi.

She didn’t reveal why she wanted to take this path.

Bhí cuma bhrónach ar a súile ó am go ham.

Her eyes appeared sad from time to time.

Ach ní raibh Niamh airde á tabhairt, dúil aici i scéalta.

But Niamh wasn’t paying attention, engrossed in stories.

Torann fiaigh d'ardaigh an misneach á leis an isteach san amain scéal d'éirigh sí ar siúl.

The sound of the hunt lifted the courage as she delved into the story that came to life.

"Aoife?" Bhailigh an macalla.

"Aoife?" The echo gathered.

Bhí Aoife imithe as radharc.

Aoife had vanished from sight.

D'fhéach Niamh agus Cillian ar a chéile; an imní ag fás.

Niamh and Cillian looked at each other; their concern growing.

Bhí an spéir anois muarbhéalta le gealán na noite.

The sky was now fragmented with the glow of twilight.

"Ní foláir dúinn í a aimsiú," a dúirt Niamh go láidir.

"We must find her," said Niamh firmly.

Bhí drogall ar Cillian.

Cillian was reluctant.

"Tá sé an-dainséarach, Niamh.

"It’s very dangerous, Niamh.

Tá an stoirm ag dul in olcas."

The storm is worsening."

Ach ní raibh Niamh réidh le heirí.

But Niamh wasn’t ready to give up.

Lean sí ar aghaidh, a croí lán le díograis, á áitiú ar Cillian gan éirí as.

She pressed on, her heart full of determination, urging Cillian not to give up.

Go tobann, stop Niamh.

Suddenly, Niamh stopped.

Bhí píosa de scairf Aoife gafa i ngéag in aice leis an aill.

A piece of Aoife’s scarf was caught on a branch near the cliff.

Taispeáin sé cosán folaithe síos go dtí trá níos ísle.

It showed a hidden path down to a lower beach.

Lean siad an rian, in ainneoin na rabhadh fiaigh a bhí á crochadh ar an gclofa reilgeach.

They followed the trail, despite the ominous warnings that were etched on the gravely ridge.

Thíos ag an imeall, d'aimsigh siad Aoife, idir an fharraige scamallach agus na haillte sinsearacha.

Below on the edge, they found Aoife, between the turbulent sea and the ancient cliffs.

Bhí sí ag lorg.

She was searching.

D'oscail sí di féin agus dúirt sí an scéal rúnda; scéal cailliúnach a teaghlaigh a bhí taobh istigh sa chreige céanna.

She opened up and told the secret story; a haunting tale of her family that lay within that very rock.

Ar feadh na nglúnta, bhí siad ag creidiúint go raibh áit folaithe le cuid de rúin a n-oidhreachta.

For generations, they had believed there was a hidden place with parts of their heritage’s secrets.

Bhí faoiseamh ar Niamh agus athluacháil a tharla.

Niamh felt relieved and had a new perspective.

D'fhoghlaim sí a bheith ag tabhairt aire dá hiontuition.

She learned to heed her intuition.

Aoife, cé chomh buíoch freisin, anois níos oscailte maidir lena scéalta a roinnt.

Aoife, grateful as well, was now more open about sharing her stories.

Bhí Cillian sásta anois, agus léirigh sé admháil don t-aistriú.

Cillian was now content, expressing acknowledgment for the adventure.

Faoi dheireadh, tháinig siad ar ais, sábháilte ón timpiste.

In the end, they returned, safe from harm.

Bhí an ceo ag imeacht, scaoileadh an tsíocháin ar ais ar an chósta.

The fog was lifting, bringing peace back to the coast.

An scéal, gan rún, san le stair—ach lena charachtair níos cliste, níos saibhrite ó thaithí an lae.

The story, no longer a secret, with its characters now wiser and enriched from the day's experience.