The late afternoon sun was rapidly approaching the horizon threatening to disappear until the following day. The wide open plains were blanketed by its soft pink glow, as light breeze wafted through the grass. A few small rodents scampered across the ground returning to their underground villages. A lone man trotted along toward the eastern horizon and away from the sun. His name was Copeland.
It had been over three weeks since Copeland had seen another intelligent being, and his body had begun to reek of a foul putrid smell. His clothes looked like he had neither changed nor washed them in days. His thick black beard was dusted, and his long black hair looked as though it were a bird’s nest. His soft blue eyes were they only part of him that appeared sane.
An unstrung was strapped to Copeland’s back along with a few arrows held together with a dirt cloth. Not quite as effective as quiver, but it fulfilled the same purpose. His bow string was tied to his side next to a small bundle containing just one extra set of clothing for the rare occurrences when he wandered across another being.
“Less than an hour now,” Copeland grunted, thinking about the unforgiving sun. Determined he continued to saunter on toward the east. “I must be getting close now,” he told himself, “the rumors would put her temple around here somewhere, although, I dare not tempt the sun anymore than a few minutes longer.”
Without loosing pace Copeland began to crane his neck in every direction looking for a cozy place to lie down for the night, some random tree that might be good for shelter. It was then that he spotted it somewhere north and east of where he was, something stretching a few miles in length. Of course, he could not be sure whether it the goddess’s temple or just a large collection of rock, but his spirit was given a boost, as he broke into a sprint.
The closer Copeland got the blur on the horizon the more sure he become of it until there was no mistaking it; it was some city, most likely holding the temple for which he had searched for months. Tears floated down his cheeks collecting dirt at they went. He was overwhelmed with joy at the thought of his long journey finally coming to an end.
As Copeland grew closer to the city a pair of men garbed in white robes and carrying pikes came into view. His lungs gasped for more air, and his legs burned in defiance as he approached the two watchmen. He had just barely made it as the sun was now almost half gone from view.
“Hello,” Copeland called to them in greeting, “is this the city of the temple?”
The two stood there gazing at Copeland for a second clearly taken aback by his grizzly appearance. One of the guards was a few inches taller than him and appeared to be in his late teens. He had curly red hair and a face full of freckles. The other was about the same height as Copeland, but he looked older, somewhere about his mid-twenties. He had short brown hair and a mustache.
It was the shorter of the two who spoke, “Well, we call it a sanctuary, but I guess it’s the same. What is your business coming here,” he asked routinely.
“Well,” Copeland began, his eyes were bouncing between the two, “I am Tennessee Copeland, and I was hoping to pray in the temple, to ask the great goddess for her guidance, although, I would rather go before her in the morning when the sun is up. Do you know of somewhere I might be able to rest for the night?”
“Well,” the guard replied turning around and pointing down the street entering the town, “if you go to blocks down and turn left there will be an inn on your left. It’s the first building; you can’t miss it. Peace be to you.”
“And peace be to you.” Copeland was beaming from ear to ear as he waved good bye and began jogging down the street. He was glowing at the prospect of visiting the goddess’s temple in the morning, but first, he wanted to wash himself and do away with his mane so that he would be more presentable.
As Copeland turned the corner he nearly ran into a sign that said, “McClintock’s Inn,” dangling in front of an open door way. The building itself looked old and worn yet somehow still inviting after the many splendorous years that it had stood.
Copeland immediately saw the owner standing behind the counter. He was a short, round, and balding middle-aged man wearing a tacky old set of dress robes. He was hunched over a stack of papers looking rather busy with the feather of his quill brushing his nose.
“Hello there,” Copeland called to him as he approached the counter, “would you by any chance have a spare room for the night?”
The innkeeper looked up from his work and stared at his patron. His eyes scanned Copeland’s figure from head to toe before he spoke. “I’ve still got a few,” he spoke with a deep business like voice, “we also have baths available if you like, as well as many other comforts for those who have traveled long distances to come here.”
“Yes, that would be great. I would also like to get a shave if I can, and I don’t suppose you sell any perfumes or something else to get rid of the smell of the open plains.”
The man grinned at Copeland with a satisfied look. “I will have one of the maids draw some water for you and have a razor sent up to your room. I do not have any perfumes on hand, but I can send out for them. Will that just be the one night then?”
“Yes,” Copeland replied slapping some coins down onto the counter.
“Oh my,” the owner said examining the coins and realizing that they were the normal coins of Arda, “we have our own special currency hear. I can exchange it for you though. We use these yellow coins here. They are equal to Lomedor’s crown. It doesn’t cost anything to go the sanctuary, but if you want to do anything else in this city you need some.”
“Well then, I guess I better take a few just to be safe,” Copeland slid a few more coins onto the counter. The man looked at them for a second. Then he took a few and put them into his purse, and he placed the rest into a tray containing several different coins from many different places. He took a few small yellow ones and passed them back across the counter.
“Hey, Marie!” the man screamed into the back, “Get room number “7” ready and draw a warm bath. Oh, and I will need you to go down the street and pick up some perfume but nothing flowery; just something strong enough to remove the smell from a pile of dung.”
The owner turned his attention back to Copeland and said, “It will be just a second. Please, have a seat, and I will have someone bring you something to eat.”
Copeland spent the evening relaxing his sore body. It was a great relief after the weeks he had spent roaming across the western coast of Ea. After he had soothed away all of his aches he hit the sack early happy to finally have a soft bed to rest upon. When he woke in the morning, several hours after the sun had risen, he felt fresh and rejuvenated.
After a quick breakfast and long farewell to the innkeeper who Copeland assured he would always be his first choice if he ever returned to the city, the now much handsomer young traveler made his way down the crowded streets looking for the temple. He spent almost two hours strolling the streets of the holy city completely lost. Only as lunch time was approaching and hunger pains were beginning to set in did he finally bend against his male nature and ask for directions.
“Good morning,” Copeland called to a young female vendor with his chipper voice, “might you be able to tell me where the temple is? I’ve been trying to find it all day, but I obviously haven’t had any luck. I would have kept searching on my own, if my body had not insisted I give it up.”
The youth had pale white skin with sparkling green and a lovely set of blonde locks. She was wearing a robin egg blue dress with a belt made of flowers. She would have been absolutely charming had she not opened her mouth. “A temple? I wasn’t aware we had one in town. Is that why this is considered a holy city?” She stared at Copeland with a vacant expression on her face, and he starred back with a complete loss for words hoping someone would come to his rescue him from this awkward situation.
A voice came from behind Copeland, “Now, Yvette, you mean to say you sell flowers in this city and do not know of it's origins or history? Shame.” The man did not seem like he was scolding the girl, but merely joking with a good friend.
Copeland turned to see who had spoken. The man was smiling at right at him. He looked to be about the same age as Copeland. He had blood hair fell over the top of his face. His skin was pale like the elves, but he did not appear elven. He appeared to be human, but there was something different about him.
"I know of its location, stranger. The Sanctuary is just north of this flower parlor. Follow me and I'm sure we will be there in less than a fourth. May I ask what your interest is with the building?" The question was simple and innocent, but Copeland felt uneasiness about it. He did not know if the locals would be so kind if they knew he was searching for a clue to the whereabouts of a sword. They would probably see the sword as a religious artifact and want it returned to the temple.
“I just want to pray before the altar.” Copeland lied, “it has been a rough season for my village, and I want to pray for help from the gods.” A smile spread across Copeland’s face. He felt a little worried by his lie, but he knew that the person had no reason of suspecting anything from him. “By the way, my name is Copeland. What is yours?” Copeland pushed forth his hand toward the stranger in greetings.