a/n: have you ever noticed how whenever somebody breaks something in a FF, it's always a vase? Specifically a priceless, ancient vase from Numenor? This is sort of just a little parody I did on that...

disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, the characters, or even the broken vases...sigh...but if you want to sue me, you can always have the dust under my nightstand, free of charge...

Of Numenórean Vases

CRASH!!

The loud clatter resounded throughout the hall, along with squeals of high-pitched laughter.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" an angry Elrond shouted from somewhere behind the twins. He came on the wreckage of his sons' latest destruction, and sighed loudly. "Boys! Not another Numenórean vase! Elendil himself gave that to me!"

He was answered only by more peals of laughter as he ran after his twin sons again. 'I wish Elendil had never even given those to me!' he thought in frustration. He wondered what it would have been like if he had not accepted the vases...

--Many, many years ago--

"...and for our most gracious host, we present these hand-made vases from our home land," Elendil said, gesturing for his servants to bring forth the numerous vases.

A hum of approval swept through the Elven crowd gathered there. The vases were very beautiful, intricately shaped and designed with flowing patterns, and made of many different colors.

Elrond studied the vases for a moment. They would indeed be attractive in the halls of Imladris. But still...A flash of foresight flickered across his mind. A vision of two squealing elflings, running through the halls, destroying everything in their path.

"They are indeed very beautiful," Elrond began slowly, "but I am afraid I cannot accept." Several gasps were heard and Elendil looked stunned. "Please understand, that they would be better off in your own line, and could be properly appreciated for the treasure they are."

Elendil reluctantly agreed, and packed up the vases, to be handed down from generation to generation, as the Elf-lord suggested.

--Many, many, many, many, many years later--

CRASH!!

The loud clatter resounded throughout the long hall, along with squeals of high-pitched laughter.

"Eldarion!" an angry Aragorn shouted from somewhere down the hall. He came on the wreckage of his son's latest destruction, and sighed loudly. "Son! That was from Numenór! Elendil himself brought them over the Sea to Middle-earth!"

He was answered only by more peals of laughter as he ran after his troublesome young son again. 'Those vases would have been better served in Imladris, under the safe-keeping of Elrond!' he thought in frustration.

The End

Look! A bonus story for all you, my faithful readers, and those who are not. Anyway. Ok, so it's not actually a H/C story, but, yeah, whatever. Go ahead and check it out for yourselves.

A Hurt/Comfort Story

Pippin stubbed his toe. It hurt. Merry comforted him.

The End

bahahaha. reviews and flames welcomed, as always, as long as their is no cursing. If there is, I'll have to delete it. Sorry. Havanidah! (my weird word for Have A Nice Day).