Chapter 1: Incompetent Farm-Hand of Lumbergnon

Many a farm-hand have come and go throughout Old Farmer Heliotro's reign at the Hayward Family Mushroom Farm in the hamlet of Willowbottom, East Farthing; Heliotro's step-grand nephew, Razo, however, is without a doubt the most incompetent one. No crops nor flowers nor weeds have ever survived Razo's loving care, with exception of one sickly stalk of Boarhead Mushroom, which Razo tenderly named "Pototo".

It wasn't until one wild night and a few ales too many at The Floating Log Inn that Old Farmer Hayward discovered his agriculturally inept step-grand nephew has the singing voice comparable to a dozen of screeching goblins; Old Farmer Hayward was infinitely relieved for finally found a good use for the most incompetent farmer of all the East Farthings.

Chapter 2: Old Farmer Hayward's Pride and Joy

This is how Razo, with a cow-bell in hand and a dozen of nursery rhyme half-memorized, began his promising trade as a ministrel-that-specialize-in-pests-control. He soon become the most renowned (and so far, the only) tone-deaf minstrel in the Marish. His service, of which he eagerly performs as moving, shouting and cow-bell wielding scarecrow, is frequently and somewhat embarrassingly sought after.

Young Razo, however, has other aspiration of his own, for while chasing away field mice is his calling, eating is his true passion, and fame (that is related to eating) is his heart's true desire. So naturally, he deduced, that it would be his dream to become the champion of the annual mushroom eating contest of Willowbottom.

"O, how other hobbit-lads would envy me, and how popular I'd be with our portly hobbit-lasses!", he often thought.

Old Farmer Hayward has always wisely thought Razo hasn't got much hobbit-sense.

Chapter 3: Wit of a dwarf Is No Match To The Toad's Tongue Ales
It was on one fateful night that Razo ran into his dwarven drinking friend, Oaric, again at the Floating Log Inn. Sat there on a low chair, the generally somber and stoic dwarf appeared to have a little bit too much to drink, and Razo knows just how generous an drunken dwarf can be!

So after Razo helps the dwarf to order four more mugs of the potent The Toad's Tongue ales for their table, the thoroughly sloshed dwarf slowly revealed the secret purpose of his frequent passings through the Shire.

Of course, Razo, befuddled by the excess that Oaric's silver has generously provided, did not much pay attention and understands even less of the doings of the dwarf kingdoms. However, his ear perks up and his mouth waters obscenely as Oaric bittersweetly describes the scene of a dwarven fest some centuries ago.

"O dear Hobbit friend, the long table in our great Dining Hall Number Four was thoroughly piled with roast Mountain Muttons sprinkled with fines spices and fragrant powdered minerals, so stringy, so tender they were, and Mountain Mole's brain soup so fine and smooth that there are nothing in the Shire can match." Oaric says dreamily, oblivious to the angry look of Gingery Long-Bottom, the self-proclaimed fourth-most renowned cook in the Marish, from another table.

"But alas, the art of the high table the Longbeard was lost in Khazad-Dum when that wretched Durin's Bane appeared, perhaps they could still be found in the great library of Khazad-Dum..."

And The Road Goes On And On, To The Dining Table Of Khazad-Dum We Come

It was that night that Razo became a changed hobbit. He rose, with all the zealous conviction of a newly Valar-touched acolyte, and he offered to accompanied Oaric and his company to the cold and bitter end. He has vowed on his tattered cow-bell, that while great dangers may lurk outside of the Shire, no adventures is too great and no hardship too bitter to keep him from feasting on the Mountain Moutons that roams on the Misty Mountains.

Now, please let us all hold hands for a much-needed prayer. "A Elbereth Gilthoniel, while you shine on the elves to guide them back to Valinor, please also remember to keep those moutons safe from the exorbitant voraciousness of those hobbits!"