Bhí gaoth na samhraidh ag séideadh go bog, ag luascadh féar glas ar bharr na nAillte Mór.

The summer wind was blowing gently, swaying the green grass on top of the Aillte Mór.

Bhí an ghrian á lasadh orthu le míorúiltí lonracha.

The sun illuminated them with shining wonders.

Bhí Aoife ina seasamh ansin, ag breathnú amach ar an aigéan ollmhór thíos.

Aoife stood there, looking out at the vast ocean below.

Bhí sí le Cillian a bhí ina seasamh in aice léi, a cara dílis agus tacaíocht á thabhairt di ag chuile chéim.

She was with Cillian, who stood beside her, her loyal friend offering support at every step.

"Tá mé scanraithe, Cillian," a dúirt Aoife go ciúin, ag glanadh allais as a lámh.

"I'm scared, Cillian," Aoife said quietly, wiping sweat from her hand.

"Tá mé leat, Aoife," arsa Cillian, agus é ag cur a lámh ar a gualainn le muinín.

"I'm with you, Aoife," said Cillian, placing his hand confidently on her shoulder.

"Is féidir leat é seo a dhéanamh.

"You can do this.

Tá a dheartháir ag féachaint ort.

Your brother is watching over you."

"Bhí Aoife tar éis gealltanas a thabhairt dá deartháir go mbeadh sí ag scaoileadh a luaithrí in áit a raibh grá acu araon dó.

Aoife had promised her brother she would scatter his ashes in a place they both loved.

Bhí sé mar a cuaire, na hAillte Mór a bhí chomh scanrúil agus a bhí siad dochreidte.

It was like a pilgrimage, the Aillte Mór, terrifying yet incredible.

Bhí a shúile lán le deora ach bhí cinneadh láidir déanta aici.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she had made a strong decision.

Dúirt sí léi féin gur leis an cuimhne thaitneamhach agus dílis a bhí fágtha aici dá deartháir a bhí taobh thiar dá céimeanna cinniúnach.

She told herself it was for the joyful and faithful memory she had left of her brother guiding her decisive steps.

De bharr an fhionnna ag imeacht anuas leis an aill, bhí lagar iontach le feiceáil.

Despite the dizziness brought by looking down the cliff, a great clarity was visible.

D'fhéach sí ar ais ar Cillian.

She looked back at Cillian.

Léigh sí ar a aghaidh gur chreid sé inti go hiomlán.

She read on his face that he completely believed in her.

"Táimid lán faoin spéir gorm.

"We are beneath the vast blue sky.

Tá do dheartháir fós i do chroí, Aoife," a dúirt sé léi go ceanúil.

Your brother is still in your heart, Aoife," he said to her gently.

Shuigh sí ar a glúine ar bharr aill, ag fíor-imill na beatha agus báis, ionas gur féidir léi an tasc cruthanta seo a chur i gcrích.

She knelt at the cliff's edge, on the very brink of life and death, to accomplish this crucial task.

Nuair a shroich sí an áit fós, bhí stoirm ag cur isteach uirthi, agus bhí na toinne ag bualadh go tréan i gcoinne na n-aillte.

As she reached the site, a storm was troubling her, and the waves were crashing fiercely against the cliffs.

Tharraing sí an próca as a mála agus d'oscail sí é le lámh ar crith.

She pulled the jar from her bag and opened it with a trembling hand.

Le brú isodhainnt, bhí sí sásta smacht a fháil ar a hiontaí géaga.

With an intensity of resolve, she managed to take control of her shaking limbs.

Cuireadh deireadh leis an bhficheall nuair a tháinig gaoth láidir ón aigéan.

The ritual ended when a strong wind came off the ocean.

Bhog a croí i ngaoth an sléibhe, mar a chaith sí an luaithreach amach chun an fharraige.

Her heart moved in the mountain wind as she cast the ashes out to sea.

Bhí Cillian ann i gcónaí, a lámha ag gabháil gá eochairfhocal ina bheadh sí dá ligint an faoiseamh.

Cillian was always there, his hands holding onto a key moment that would allow her to release the relief.

Ag breathnú síos ar scáth an sléibhe, haig Aoife go raibh sí ag caoineadh ach go raibh gáire ar a béal.

Looking down at the shadow of the mountain, Aoife was both crying and smiling.

Don bhomaite sin, bhí faoiseamh agus síocháin ann.

In that moment, there was relief and peace.

Bhí a deartháir le chéile leis an gaoth is é sin ag tabhairt greim.

Her brother was joined with the wind that was embracing him.

Bhí sí cumhachtach, ní raibh eagla aici a thuilleadh.

She felt powerful, no longer afraid.

D’éirí níos láidre agus níos muiníní, d'fhág Aoife agus Cillian na hAillte Mór.

Growing stronger and more confident, Aoife and Cillian left the Aillte Mór.

I gcónaí, cheap sí go raibh sí ag imeacht leis an spiorad lena deartháir.

Always, she thought she was departing with her brother's spirit.

Le Cillian ag tabhairt tacaíochta, d'fhill siad ar ais abhaile, a gcroíthe ina gceann is críochnaithe.

With Cillian's support, they returned home, their hearts united and fulfilled.