Sa bhreac-cheo maidineach, bhí Niamh agus Cian ag siúl go ciúin tríd Gleann Dá Loch.

In the morning mist, Niamh and Cian were quietly walking through Gleann Dá Loch.

Bhí an ghrian ag múscailt, a luibheanna glasa buaite le drúcht.

The sun was awakening, its green herbs won with dew.

Bhí an tsíocháin lán le cuimhní agus brón.

The peace was full of memories and sorrow.

Bhí Niamh agus Cian ar ais le chéile tar éis blianta fada scartha.

Niamh and Cian were back together after many years apart.

Bhíodar anseo chun luaithreadh a n-athar nach maireann a scaipeadh, áit a raibh an chlann tráth ag teacht mar theaghlach fadó.

They were here to scatter their late father's ashes, a place where the family once gathered long ago.

Bhí an t-atmaisféar trom, ní amháin toisc an ócáid, ach freisin toisc na cuimhní tricky a bhí le baoite fada ró-fhada.

The atmosphere was heavy, not only because of the occasion but also because of the tricky memories that were baited far too long.

Bhí Niamh airdeallach, i gcónaí in ann aire a thabhairt dá deartháir níos óige.

Niamh was alert, always able to take care of her younger brother.

"Féach," arsa Cian agus é ag an loch uachtarach ag scrúdú, "An cuimhin leat nuair a rith muid anseo mar páistí?

"Look," said Cian, examining the upper lake, "Do you remember when we used to run here as children?"

""Ní dhéanfaidh mé dearmad," arsa Niamh go ciúin, a guth lán le mothúchán.

"I will never forget," Niamh said quietly, her voice full of emotion.

"Ach táimid chomh difriúil anois.

"But we are so different now."

"D’fhéach an bheirt isteach i súile a chéile.

The two looked into each other's eyes.

Bhí coinneamh de smaointe faoin am atá thart, faoi choimhlintí, faoi shéasúir a chaill uair amháin.

There was a meeting of thoughts about the past, about conflicts, about seasons once lost.

Bhí croí Niamh ag dul in olcas, rud a fós níor ghoileadh.

Niamh's heart was worsening, something that still hadn't healed.

"Níl muid in ann athrú a dhéanamh ar an am atá caite, Cian," dúirt sí go deifnídeacht.

"We can't change the past, Cian," she said definitively.

"Ach níor mhaith liom é a scriosadh arís.

"But I don't want to destroy it again."

"Thóg Cian anál domhain.

Cian took a deep breath.

"Tá mé fós ag iarraidh a bheith mar sin, Niamh.

"I still want to be that way, Niamh.

Tá mé fós ag lorg mo bhealach.

I'm still looking for my way."

"D’fhéach siad ar an mballaí cloiche an mhainistreach, sean mar an aimsir féin.

They looked at the stone wall of the monastery, as old as time itself.

Bhí sé mar a dúnadh fadóg, ag coimeád an t-am i ngabháil.

It was like a stronghold, keeping the time captive.

Chuir sé seo i gcuimhne do Niamh cé chomh teoranta a bhí gach rud, lena n-áirítear an t-am a bhí acu le chéile anois.

This reminded Niamh how limited everything was, including the time they had together now.

Tháinig an nóiméad chun an luaithreadh a scaipeadh.

The moment came to scatter the ashes.

Le chéile, d’oscail siad an próca, a lámha ag crith.

Together, they opened the jar, their hands trembling.

Bhí ciúnas ann agus ghabh gach duilleog suaimhneas iontu féin.

There was silence and every leaf held peace within itself.

Ag pointe an eolais, bhí na mothúcháin chomhhardacheach, bhris na focail ina labhraí,"Tá brón orm," dúirt Cian, a súile lán de boxáill.

At the point of knowledge, with emotions in tune, the words broke into speech, "I'm sorry," said Cian, his eyes full of regret.

"Táimse chomh brón orm, freisin, Cian," d'fhreagair Niamh agus naplaid lúbtha.

"I'm so sorry too, Cian," Niamh replied, with a gentle bend.

Thug an gaoth bódúr, cé gur gann go raibh athrú súisce sna focail imeasg an cheo.

The wind blew faintly, though barely altering the syntax of the words amidst the mist.

Bhí glóir na gaoite ag giolcadh an luaithreach trí scail ann fad is a tháinig said ar aon dul sa deireadh.

The glory of the wind rustled the ashes through branches while they came together at last.

Bhí Gleann Dá Loch ina heachtra chomh hálainn agus a bhí sé cruálach.

Gleann Dá Loch was as beautiful an ordeal as it was cruel.

Ach anois, stán Niamh agus Cian, a gCroí roinnte, ag tús nua.

But now, Niamh and Cian, their hearts shared, stood at the brink of a new beginning.

Bhí an chaoi inar scaipeadh luaithreadh a n-athar níos mó ná imeacht amháin.

The way their father's ashes were scattered was more than a departure.

Bhí sí mar dhóithain nach raibh in ann fáilte a chur roimh an gcaidreamh, ní amháin na cuimhní.

It was as if there was enough to welcome the bond, not just the memories.

Le gach chéim chugat, síneadh an solas lá an earraigh ar iad a leanúint, iad réidh chun fill ar an saol a chruthaidh siad le chéile, fiú amháin i ndiaidh na míshuca.

With each step forward, the light of the spring day extended to follow them, ready to embrace the life they created together, even after the hardships.

"Cé gur difriúil an bheirt, táimid in ann," arsa Niamh, báitearáin teachtaire tugtha di féin.

"Even though we are different, we can," said Niamh, offering a self-given message of hope.

Agus iad ag siúl amach as an gleann, d’fhág siad na coinnigh lastállú agus chreid siad go weem.

As they walked out of the glen, they left the old things behind and believed in their new path.

Críoch.

The End.