Bhí atmaisféar na Nollag san aer sa phub, cé go raibh an samhradh fós i bhfad uainn.

The Christmas atmosphere was in the air at the pub, even though summer was still far away.

Bhí fuinneoga an phub ag preabadh le soilse agus bhí cofianta mórach ar an mbord ag cúinne na háite.

The pub's windows were bouncing with lights, and there were large candles on the table in the corner of the place.

Tháinig tuathánaithe áitiúla isteach ag a chéile, iad lag le gáire agus bródúil as a gcuid scéalta.

Local farmers came in together, weak with laughter and proud of their stories.

I lár an eolais seo go léir bhí Saoirse, agus cé gur thaitin deoch le Saoirse, níor thaitin bréaga léi.

In the middle of all this was Saoirse, and although Saoirse liked a drink, she didn't like lies.

An oíche sin, bhí Saoirse ag ól a pionta guinness do shuaimhneas, nuair a tháinig scairt ón gcúinne eile.

That night, Saoirse was sipping her pint of Guinness peacefully when a shout came from the other corner.

“An Géarchéim Mór Phumpkin!” a liúigh Connor, an freastalaí.

“The Great Pumpkin Crisis!” shouted Connor, the bartender.

Bhí a fhios ag gach duine gur scéalta fada ag Connor a bhí i gceist, ach an uair seo, bhí rud éigin difriúil.

Everybody knew Connor for his long stories, but this time, something was different.

D’fhéach Saoirse agus chonaic sí Maeve, lucht leanúna rialta, ag méara coinnle idir béic agus gáire.

Saoirse looked and saw Maeve, a regular, between a candle's flame, laughing and shouting.

“An gceapann tú gur fíor é?” a chuir Saoirse ceist ar Maeve.

“Do you think it's true?” Saoirse asked Maeve.

“Inisfidh mé níos mó duit amárach,” a dúirt Maeve le súil cheilte agus canna in áirde, mar a bheadh sí ar a seirbhíseach féin.

“I'll tell you more tomorrow,” said Maeve with a hidden wink and a can raised, as if she were toasting herself.

Ach bhí amhras ar Saoirse, mar bhí iomrá ar Maeve maidir le scéalta áibhéalacha freisin.

But Saoirse had doubts, for Maeve was also known for her exaggerated stories.

Ar maidin, lean Saoirse Maeve suas na cosáin fhónta idir na síonracha.

In the morning, Saoirse followed Maeve along the worn paths between the hedgerows.

Bhí sé ciúin, ach bhí fuiscín reatha gaoithe ag tógáil na mbrat duilleoga ag eitilt os cionn a gcinn.

It was quiet, but a playful gust of wind was lifting the carpet of leaves above their heads.

Thánadar chuig ceann de na páirceanna puimcin.

They came to one of the pumpkin fields.

Ach ní raibh puimcin le feiceáil.

But no pumpkins were visible.

“Caithfidh mé níos mó a fhiosrú,” a smaoinigh Saoirse, ag breathnú ar pholl cearcacha a bhí ag dul i dtreo na coille.

“I need to investigate further,” thought Saoirse, gazing at a chicken hole leading toward the woods.

Lean sí an rian, cé go raibh a croí ag preabadh, agus isteach sa choill, radharc aisteach os a comhair.

She followed the trail, even as her heart raced, and into the forest, a strange sight awaited her.

Bhí scata páistí óga, iad á stiúradh ag tuismitheoirí dóibhsean, ag sleamhnú puimcin ó chnámharlach d'óstán.

A group of young children, led by their parents, were sliding pumpkins from the skeleton of a hotel.

“Surprise d’Oíche Shamhna! Féile Rúnda!” a ghlaoigh siad.

“Surprise for Halloween! Secret Festival!” they shouted.

Dúirt páiste óg amháin, “Bhíomar ag iarraidh iontas a chur ar na daoine fásta, Saoirse!”

A young child said, “We wanted to surprise the adults, Saoirse!”

D'aithin Saoirse na háthas sna súile beoga na bpáistí, agus ní raibh fágtha dá chuid amhras.

Saoirse recognized the joy in the bright eyes of the children, and her doubts melted away.

An raibh díomhaoin eolais fós aici, ach d’áitigh Saoirse gur fearr an draíocht a roinnt ná í a cheilt.

She still had unanswered questions, but Saoirse insisted that it's better to share magic than to hide it.

D’fhoghlaim sí scéalta a ghlacadh le beagán de gháire, agus chuaigh sí ag bailiú tríd an gcarn puimcin lena lámha féin.

She learned to embrace stories with a bit of laughter, and she joined in gathering pumpkins with her own hands.

Ag an deireadh, in éineacht lena cairde nua, mhúin Saoirse di féin conas a bheith páirteach sa fheitheamh pobail.

In the end, along with her new friends, Saoirse taught herself how to take part in the community's waiting.

Bhí an t-eolas ciallmhar ag Connor tar éis an tsaoil.

Connor was wise after all.

Uaireanta, níl géarchéim ann ach spraoi, agus bíonn gáire níos luachmhaire ná fírinne.

Sometimes, there is no crisis, only fun, and laughter is more valuable than truth.