Bhí sé oíche fhliuch sa gheimhreadh, agus bhí sneachta ag titim taobh amuigh de fhuinneoga beaga ildaite na bialainne.

It was a wet winter night, and snow was falling outside the colorful small windows of the restaurant.

Bhí Áine agus Cillian ag suí ag bord mór, clúdaithe le bia iontach—feoil rósta, prátaí, agus go leor eile.

Áine and Cillian were sitting at a large table, covered with wonderful food—roast meat, potatoes, and much more.

Bhí siad ag féachaint ar an seó iontach a bhí ar siúl sa lár, áit a raibh ridirí ag troid.

They were watching the amazing show taking place in the center, where knights were fighting.

Glaodh toghchán ar cheann de na ridirí.

One of the knights was called up for election.

Thug an slua bualadh bos agus gáire, ach bhí súile Áine ag díriú ar ridire áirithe.

The crowd applauded and laughed, but Áine's eyes were focused on a particular knight.

"Cillian, tá sé sin cosúil le mo mhúinteoir matamaitice!

"Cillian, that one looks like my math teacher!"

" a dúirt sí go húdarásach.

she said authoritatively.

D'fhéach Cillian ar an ridire in amhras.

Cillian looked at the knight doubtfully.

"Áine, tá tú ag magadh, nach bhfuil?

"Áine, you're joking, aren't you?"

" a dúirt sé agus aoibh aige.

he said with a smile.

Ach bhí Áine cinnte go raibh an ceart aici.

But Áine was sure she was right.

Bhí sé an-chosúil leis an múinteoir—an bealach a sheas sé, an bealach a chuaigh sé in iúl sna troid.

He was very similar to the teacher—the way he stood, the way he expressed himself in the fight.

Ar feadh tamaill, lean siad orthu ag breathnú, ach níor chuir an ridire a clogad de.

For a while, they continued watching, but the knight didn't take off his helmet.

Bhí Áine meáite air anois gur chuir sí a teoiric i bhfeidhm.

Áine was determined now to test her theory.

Chuir sí a lámh in airde nuair a thosaigh an seó ag iarradh ar dhaoine páirt a ghlacadh.

She raised her hand when the show started asking people to participate.

Bhí amhras ar Chillian, ach d'fhág Áine ina aonar é agus rinne sí a bealach níos gaire don radharc.

Cillian was skeptical, but Áine left him alone and made her way closer to the scene.

Thosaigh Áine ag béic, "Sir Marcus!

Áine started yelling, "Sir Marcus!

Sir Marcus!

Sir Marcus!

Cuimhnigh orm?

Remember me?"

" Níor bhog an ridire ar dtús, ach ansin stoptar an seó.

The knight did not move at first, but then the show stopped.

Bhí sé cosúil go raibh sé ag smaoineamh.

It seemed as if he was thinking.

D'fhéach an lucht féachana le suim, anáil ghearr orthu.

The audience looked on with interest, holding their breath.

Go tobann, bhain an ridire a clogad de go cúramach.

Suddenly, the knight carefully removed his helmet.

Bhí aghaidheanna an lucht féachana lán le hiontas.

The audience's faces were full of astonishment.

Bhí sé, go deimhin, an múinteoir fóir, Buachaill Ó Ceallaigh!

It was, indeed, the substitute teacher, Buachaill Ó Ceallaigh!

D'aoibh sé go néata, ag tomhais go leor.

He smiled neatly, guessing correctly.

Thosaigh an slua ag gáire.

The crowd started laughing.

D'inse Gáire na hÁine, agus chorraigh Cillian a cheann le cumha.

Áine's laughter echoed, and Cillian shook his head in disbelief.

"Tá tú dochreidte, Áine," a dúirt sé, ag tachtadh a gháire.

"You're unbelievable, Áine," he said, stifling his laughter.

Bhí Áine sásta go raibh sí ceart agus bhríomhar ina hiontas.

Áine was pleased that she was right and vibrant in her surprise.

D'fhoghlaim Cillian go raibh níos mó i gceist le hídeanna Áine ná mar a bhí le feiceáil ar dtús.

Cillian learned that there was more to Áine's whims than met the eye.

Ar oíche mar seo, i dtigh bialainne meánaoiseach, rinne siad gáire agus chaith siad oíche thaitneamhach, surrounded with a mix of ancient traditions and unexpected truths.

On a night like this, in a medieval-style restaurant, they laughed and spent a pleasant evening, surrounded with a mix of ancient traditions and unexpected truths.