It wasn't much to look at, really. The stones that made up the steps were a little loose, the door hinges a little creaky, but it was a good, solid building at the end of the day. He was used to building barns and stables and coops; a temple was the exact same in form, only different in function. Inside the fireplace took up half of the back wall, a stack of firewood and a box full of all the things needed to start a fire next to it. There was a bed, not large or extravagant but comfortable and warm, and he had several extra blankets in the chest at the end of it for anyone who was particularly cold natured. There was a small set of shelves beside it, and across from it was a small table with four chairs.
It wasn't much, but it would do.
The farmer couldn't exactly say why he built the little temple. The idea had come to him as he woke up one morning, and had grown and blossomed as he was feeding his chickens. A small temple, modeled similarly to his own home, something to give a bit of comfort and a place to rest. Perhaps that wasn't really what a temple was supposed to be, but he liked the idea of it so much he couldn't resist. After all, he enjoyed nothing more than a good fire and a soft bed after a day of working; why wouldn't the deities that worked to create and nurture the world enjoy the same?
The final touch was a circle above the door, drawn with the blood of a rabbit he had caught and prepared for dinner, and inside he wrote: enter, and be well.
Every day he would take a few of the crops from his fields and set them on the table inside, propping the door open as he did to let anyone passing by know that they were welcome. The spring weather was very pleasant, the chill of winter gone and no longer needed to be blocked out. Each afternoon he would check to see if anyone had gone inside on his way to his own house for lunch, and again in the evening when it was time for dinner. It would be rude not to offer to share a meal after all, but aside from a few curious birds and once even a fox, he had no company for two weeks.
It was in the beginning of the third week that the first visitor appeared. He was on his way home for lunch, checking his temple as he went like always, and was surprised to see a woman sitting at the table, dressed in a traveler's robe and gently holding one of the pomegranates he had set out. She turned to look at him, smiling sadly, and he quickly bowed.
"Greetings, my lady."
Her smile brightened slightly and she stood, setting the pomegranate back on its plate.
"Greetings. Tell me, to whom is this temple dedicated? I could see no indication anywhere."
"It is for whomever wishes to use it, for a moment of rest or comfort."
"I see," she said, looking around the room. "That is a dangerous thing, you know. The gods can be very jealous."
"Perhaps. But all are welcomed just the same, no one more or less." He straightened finally, and backed out of the door onto the steps. "I was preparing to go and make myself some lunch. Would you care to join me?"
"What will we be having?"
There was an edge in her voice and a challenge in her eyes. A test, then, to measure his worth.
"I was planning on something simple, bread and some fruit perhaps. If that is not to your liking, I can find something better for you."
She laughed, rich and dark, and walked over to the door. "No, I think that will do just fine."
He nodded and started to offer his arm to her, but quickly stopped the motion. One did not willfully make contact with a goddess after all.
