During the journey to the Two Point O Towers, the Dwarves asked many questions. Like, Why is it so important for The One Poem ™ to be destroyed?!
"Because," said Lady Ahavarwen, "no one should be limited in regards to how poetry is written. An ABAB rhyme scheme in itself is not poetic, but MOAR!ON was convinced otherwise after being tutored by the Dark God, Blogmoth."
Ohhh! The very name sent shudders throughout the Fellowship.
"Yes," confirmed Jaragorn. "Blogmoth was extremely jealous of the wonderfully creative atmosphere the other gods had created in Muddle Earth, so he concocted a way of posioning it all. The Dark God disguised himself as a Poetic Guru who charged MOAR!ON an ungodly amount of gold coins in exhange for being tutored. It was actually a Pyramid Scheme. When it came time for MOAR!ON to pass on the knowledge he had gained, no one was interested. He had been DUPed bigtime."
Lord Melrond continued the tale, for she had lived through the Dark Age of Literature. "MOAR!ON was always afflicted with greed. He thirsted for fame as well as fortune. And when he discovered he couldn't make a fortune selling his verse or charging peope how to craft their own, he forced everyone else in Muddle Earth to write only ABAB rhymes."
"Everything changed for the better when the Spiderweb Mistress and the Dark Knight joined forces to end MOAR!ON's reign of terror," said Gandosh. "Hope was rekindled across the realm. Elves, Dwarves, Wyrms, and Men became united in a common goal to rid Literature of the likes of MOAR!ON and his minions."
PRadriel ended the lecture by saying, "And now that MOAR!ON has resurfaced, he is using the Eye of DUPon to search Muddle Earth for The One Poem ™. His actions will prove to be his own undoing, for liberating the Spiderweb Mistress will effectively blind him to DUGlo entering the lands of Moardor."
"Umm ... guys?" said Rosie Grace. "We lost the Dwarves about a half mile back when they saw something shiny in the Entwood Forest. You might as well have been talking to the wind."
Lunalass grumbled, yet her smirk was unphased, "Ughh ... dealing with Dwarves is like herding cats. Remind me why we brought so many of them along with us?"
"No worries," said Cool Merry Dude. "I will call draw them back here with my magical flute." He pulled out a foot-long reed and played a soothing melody.
Except the only thing that came out of the woods was a rather large groundhog the size of a Greyhound Bus.
Merry snapped his reed in half and tossed the fragments over his shoulders. "It wasn't me," he casually insisted while backing his donkey up.
"Oh, f-f-f-fa-fudge," remarked Gimlyroo, stutteering. "Were ... wood ... ch-ch-chu-chuck ..."
"There," said Summdir, innocently pointing. "There. Woodchuck."
And when reality finally sank in, they all cried together, "WEREWOODCHUCK!"