"He is fine, Mr. Hephaestus. Don't worry. The magic has worn off but he is alive." said an old man riding a white horse beside the carriage. He barely had any hair left and his skin was wrinkled. He had a cleft chin and in height, he didn't seem that tall.
"He's okay?...Why isn't he moving then?" said Erland with a worried frown.
"He's in coma. Do you know what that is?"
"I do..." Erland looked at his brother who was sound asleep.
The old man laughed. "He's sleeping like a princess..."
"Would you mind if I ask who you are?" Erland looked at the man as he popped his head out of the carriage from the window.
"Arne calls me grandpa Skarde. It means cleft chin, hehe."
"Is it because you have a cleft chin?"
"Probably." Skarde shrugged. "You two have a lot of time in your hands so ask him when you get the chance."
"Grandpa, where were you when I brought my dog Logi?"
