The Man With A Thousand Names

The man with a hundred faces, skald, wanderer, minstrel, heretic. These are but a few of the names collected over the many years Ahngvar had been journeying across the world. Each place he visited seemed to posit a new name, sometimes more than one. He had never been able to stay for long in one place, the longest stretch no more than a few years, to which he vowed never to do again. He had fallen into an illusion of the heart, and his mind had become weak. He allowed himself to feel safe, worse, he had allowed himself to believe that those around him could be safe.
It had been many years and many places since his first event. To think it would never happen again was folly. It all ended badly, his only recollection of the second event was that of flames licking at his cloak as he walked from the rubble of the humble little cabin he had made his home. As his awareness returned he looked about the village in horror. It had been completely leveled. Not a single wall remained intact. Shattered skeletons of homes and friends alike were strewn everywhere, burning. Acrid smoke burned his eyes and throat. He was often reminded of the second event anytime he was around a fire or caught scent of wood smoke. He had buried those he could find amongst the ruins of the village or had been flung through the air landing in various places on the outskirts. Most had simply evaporated or burned to ash. The worst of it was not finding any remains of his beloved with which to say goodbye.
He had traveled hard after that, stopping for no more than a few days to do whatever odd job he could to earn a few coins or more commonly in exchange for food for the road. His only constant companions were a simple lute, his bow, a bedroll, a backpack with a few meager belongings, and a finely forged axe.

~*~

During the onset of summer a few years later Ahngvar sat on a large flat rock that jutted out over the shore of a lake somewhere in the hinterlands. The glassy surface reflected the deep blue sky above and the sun warmed his face as he leaned back, hands propping him up as he took in the serenity of it all. Birds sung their songs as they fluttered about in the trees behind him. Somehow he had found a moment of peace once again. All of his haunts and worries melted away for a brief moment while every muscle in his body relaxed. He laid back on the rock and let it all wash over him. He wished this euphoric moment would last forever. There he slumbered.
It was dark when he awoke to the scent of smoke on the wind. A full moon danced in the reflection of the night sky off the water as a slight breeze lapped water against the shore. A flicker of firelight pulled his gaze towards the north end of the lake and his belly grumbled. He realized he had not eaten since breakfast. He rummaged through his pack for a heel of bread, his last, and a strip of dried meat. He contemplated whether to forage for food or hunt on the morrow as he chewed on his food.
The firelight which at first seemed small was now much brighter. He couldn't tell if it was one campfire or a few, or something else entirely from this distance. His curiosity got the better of him as he finished eating the last of his food. Resigned to the fact that he would most likely not get much sleep this evening due to his long sunny nap, he gathered up his belongings and trudged off into the woods heading north towards the firelight.