Greetings to you, dear mother.
I write to you now, just before Midaëte, as I promised. I hope my letter finds you in good health. Very little of note has happened here since you left. Despite your warnings, we get on well with the humans. They are so fascinating in the way they obsess over death... Caoilfhionn, if you can imagine it, admitted to Bláthnaid she really likes Arnaud, the miller's son. Personally, I've nothing against this, but I know where you are – in Dol Blathanna – that would be unthinkable.
I went to visit Maolsheachlann's grave recently... Yes, I know you won't approve of that. Since when do the Aen Seidhe care for the graves of their loved ones? Yet living among people necessarily means we take on some of their customs. While there, I happened to learn the humans plan to build a village near Crevan Carn. This is difficult, for personally it does not bother me, but Bláthnaid – you know her – began screaming about how this was a profanation and they have countless other perfectly good spots where they could build their village. I hope this will not grow into some larger conflict, we have it so good here... [rest of the letter is illegible]