I lár an gheimhridh, bhí an t-aer úr, agus bhí sneachta ag titim go bog os cionn na sléibhte timpeall Ghleann Dá Loch.

In the middle of winter, the air was fresh, and snow was gently falling over the mountains surrounding Glendalough.

Bhí Áine agus Ciarán ag teacht ar ais chuig áit speisialta iad féin.

Áine and Ciarán were returning to a special place of their own.

Bhí a gcosa ag brúcht tríd an sneachta mar shiúil siad isteach sa ghleann suaimhneach seo, áit a raibh an feistiú is faide na ndéaganna teorainn leis an iarnóin ina siombail foclainne.

Their feet crunched through the snow as they walked into this peaceful valley, where the evergreen of the utmost limits of the day symbolized silence.

D'fhéach Áine ar na túir arda cloiche, a bhí ina seasamh go stócaí os a gcomhair.

Áine looked at the tall stone towers, standing stolidly in front of them.

Chuir siad i gcuimhne di a seanmháthair, sionnach cliste a bhíodh ag súgradh leo anseo agus iad fós ina bpáistí.

They reminded her of her grandmother, a clever old fox who used to play with them here when they were still children.

Ach ní raibh sí anseo anois, agus bhí an chúlradh anois ar a leithéid de thasc – cad ba cheart a dhéanamh lena teach álainn atá fágtha acu.

But she was no longer here, and the responsibility was now on them for such a task - what to do with her beautiful house they had inherited.

"Ciarán, ní mór dúinn smaoineamh go praiticiúil," a dúirt sí.

"Ciarán, we must think practically," she said.

"Tá fiacha orainn, agus an teach... b'fhéidir gurbh fhearr é a dhíol."

"We have debts, and the house... maybe it would be better to sell it."

Ach chroth Ciarán a cheann go righin.

But Ciarán shook his head stubbornly.

"Ní raimse focal, Áine.

"Not a word, Áine.

Tá an teach lán de chuimhní ar Mhamó.

The house is full of memories of Mamó.

An cuimhin leat an geimhreadh sin?

Do you remember that winter?

Chuir sí scéalta i mbeárna bosca le teallach ag lasadh?"

She used to tell stories with a fireplace blazing?"

Ní raibh Áine in ann aonar air an obair sin a scrios.

Áine couldn't bring herself to destroy that work.

Ar feadh tamaill fhada, shuíodar i dtost ar bhinsí cloiche agus d'fhéachadar ar mhainistir an sean-phobail.

For a long time, they sat in silence on stone benches and gazed at the monastery of the old community.

Bhí a chroí ag scéalta Ciarán, scéalta aingeal láidre na seanmháithreacha sin.

Ciarán's stories, tales of the strong angels of those grandmothers, tugged at her heart.

"Tuigim cad atá i gceist agat, Ciarán," a dúirt Áine faoi dheireadh.

"I understand what you mean, Ciarán," Áine finally said.

"Ach níor chóir dúinn a bheith neamhairdiúil ar ár ndliteanas airgid."

"But we must not be neglectful of our financial obligations."

Leis sin, scaip an ghrian sléibhe tríd na scamaill throm-laethanta.

With that, the mountain sun pierced through the heavy clouds.

Bhain Áine faoiseamh i laochas Ciarán.

Áine took comfort in Ciarán's courage.

"B'fhéidir gur féidir linn an teach a choinniú, ach déanfaimid a choigeartú mar fhanacht beag turasóireachta, ionas go mbeidh muid in ann an seanmháthair a onóir agus tacú linn ó thaobh airgid de."

"Perhaps we can keep the house, but let's convert it into a small tourist stay, so we can honor Mamó and support ourselves financially."

D'fhéach Ciarán air sin go híorónta ach le tinge de spleodar.

Ciarán looked at her with irony but with a hint of excitement.

D’fhéadfadh sé go scaoilfeadh an plean sin cúpla scáth ón gcroí.

It seemed that plan might lift a few shadows from his heart.

Le barrscéalta ós cionn na carraigeacha, tháinig na deartháireacha ar chomhaontú.

With stories exchanged above the rocky landscape, the siblings reached an agreement.

Tógadh an dualgas mar a chur, áit a mbailíonn an séanopála na déaganna na scéalta a bhí saoire orthu.

The responsibility was shouldered as it was placed, where the sanctity of the tales of the ages was celebrated.

Ní raibh aon amhras ach go raibh síocháin acu faoi dheireadh, a bhuíochas le fearann na nGael agus nádúr na hÉireann a shuaimhníonn gach torann imní.

There was no doubt they found peace at last, thanks to the land of the Gaels and the nature of Ireland that soothes every noise of worry.

Is ann sin, i measc na cosáin monastacha, gurbh é an t-am rinneadh margadh aontaithe a bhí inmharthana agus lán croí.

There, among the monastic paths, was the time an agreement was made that was sustainable and heartfelt.