All dwarfs may be bastards yet not all bastards are dwarfs. - George R. R. Martin

Men have scars, women mysteries.

And who are you, the proud Lord said
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws.
And, mine are as long and sharp, my Lord
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that Lord of Castamere,
but now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.

By then Ser Gregor Clegane was in position at the head of the lists. He was huge, the biggest man that Eddard Stark had ever seen. Robert Baratheon and his brothers were all big men, as was the Hound, and back at Winterfell there was a simpleminded stableboy named Hodor who dwarfed them all, but the knight they called the Mountain That Rides would have towered over Hodor. He was well over seven feet tall, closer to eight, with massive shoulders and arms thick as the trunks of small trees. His destrier seemed a pony in between his armored legs, and the lance he carried looked as small as a broom handl