The Drifter

I've never heard him speak a word... I don't know his name.
Some call him the lone wanderer or just a loner, but I call him the drifter. I have seen him around the stead and in the valleys, wandering aimlessly, waiting, soul searching.
He is a skilled hunter too, always bringing back food for himself. I've never seen him ask anyone for food or for help hunting; when I think about it I'm not sure I have ever seen him with anyone else.
He keeps his distance, that's for sure.
But there is something about him, something that troubles him. Perhaps a troubled past. He sits alone in front of the fire at night, weeping silently. The norn of the stead try to comfort him but it's no use, he doesn't respond, far away in his mind.
Sometimes he'll sit a whole day with his Dolyak, petting it softly and staring out into the valleys and mountains. I wonder if he has loved ones, if he has any family? I wonder if anyone cares about him, or if he cares about anyone.
I guess one day he will just drift away, just like how he drifted here and from whence he came.
But long after he's gone I will remember him and tell his tale; the troubled drifter of our stead.