Mushroom soup or not, one thing was clear to you: you were hungry. Grasping the apple, you begin heartily devouring it. Maybe it was the hunger and mushrooms talking, but you've never tasted something so good: tart, firm, and filling. As you manage the first layer, you manage to squeeze a few words through your chewing cheeks.
"Hm? Me?" The Old Man finally sits down, his knees crossed as he finds a good place to sit. "Oh, you can call me Malam."
Finishing the apple, you wipe your mouth of the juices.
"Old Man, you seem a wise and learned fellow."
"Oh, I suppose..." Malam rocks back, cradling his walking stick.
"I thank you for helping me."
"Twas nothing," he dismissively waves. "Nature grants strength to those she finds deserving..."
Looking you over, he strokes his beard. "So, now that you are fed, what are your plans now, traveler? Do you know where you are?"