Thort

Peach recognized one of the two guards. He was called Thort. Even though he was a giant of a man, at over seven feet tall, even though his face was covered in warts and scars, and even though his bristly, black beard smelled worse than months-old cotton candy, she liked him because he had chased away some boys who were picking on her in the market.

Thort towered over everyone, and poor Peach's head barely reached above his knee. His voice rumbled like huge boulders rolling down a mountain.

"Say that again little girl."

Thort could have sworn Ector Preux's name came from the tiny creature's quivering lips, but that possibility was so incredible he could not trust his own misshapen ears. He bent all the way over until his watery, bloodshot eyes were directly even with hers. His huge head and tangled web of hair sprouting out from beneath a massive copper helmet were together nearly as large as Peach herself.

"You know where who is little girl?" his voice rumbled again. Peach coughed and waved her hand in front of her nose. Thort's breath smelled like garbage sitting out all day under a hot sun.

"Ector Preux," she said in a squeaky voice, tightly pinching her nose shut. "Take me to Roil Nefarious. I won't say a word except to him, face to face. I want all the credit for this and he had better reward me grandly."

"Oh, no doubt, little girl. Lord Nefarious rewards those who benefit him like none other," snickered the other guard. Thort gave him a cold stare and his smile quickly faded.

"Are you sure you want to stand before Lord Nefarious? Face to face?"

Peach quickly reconsidered, realizing the momentous nature of the decision she was making. The image of her mother knitting beside that horrible old woman flashed through her mind once more. Knitting, knitting, always knitting, that's all her mother had done since they had come to this terrible place. She missed her hometown. She missed her dad.