Fly me to the Moon by daughterofshadows

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Fanwork Notes

The genius loci of Minas Tirith (aka the city spirit) is one of the main characters of this fic. She is called Minas Tirith, so don't be confused.

I originally introduced the concept in A City and her Queen, which you might want to read beforehand.

Also contains brief references to And the nightingales sing.

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Arwen remembers a dream, Aragorn makes a prediction, and Minas Tirith flies.

Millenia later, Eärendil gets company on the Vingilot and remembers his childhood.

Oh, and there are hot air balloons.

Major Characters: Original Female Character(s), Aragorn, Arwen, Eärendil

Major Relationships:

Genre:

Challenges: Cheesy Corn Chips

Rating: General

Warnings:

Chapters: 1 Word Count: 583
Posted on 4 March 2023 Updated on 4 March 2023

This fanwork is complete.

Fly me to the Moon

This fic serves double duty as being my (first?) Cheesy Corn Chips submission and my first B2MEM prompt board fic.

The Cheesy Corn Chips prompt was the photo of two people watching hot air balloons rise.

The Random Number Generator picked the word prompt "tumble" from the board.

And yes, the title is a reference to the Frank Sinatra song. I felt it was appropriately cheesy

Now enjoy!

Read Fly me to the Moon

The outer walls of the first ring of Minas Tirith are the best place to look out on the Pelennor fields, and today, nearly the entire city has congregated here.

The Pelennor is alight with hundreds of flickering flames, as hot air balloons begin to rise.

Aragorn’s arm is wrapped firmly around Arwen’s waist, and she rests her head on his shoulder. The spirit of the White City darts in and out of the masses watching the spectacle below, revelling in her people’s happiness, but as the first balloons rise to the sky, so does she, laughing as they climb higher and higher.

“I dreamt of a scene just like this, once,” Arwen whispers, a memory of her youth tugging at her mind.

“I stood on an open field, surrounded by Men and flames. But they did not burn. Instead, the Men tamed the fire and flew. I never believed it could actually happen! And yet… here we are!”

“Here we are, indeed,” Aragorn says. His voice is soft, but when Arwen lifts her head, she can see the wondrous smile on his face.

Minas Tirith returns to the ground, draping herself across Aragorn’s other shoulder and reaching out for Arwen’s hand in front of his stomach.

She takes it, linking their fingers together and smiling at her lover.

Minas Tirith’s eyes sparkle with joy.

“You should have seen it! Even Mindolluin looks small from above! It felt like I could touch the stars if I went just a little bit higher!”

“One day, you will reach the stars, I am certain of that,” Aragorn replies, with a surety that gives Arwen pause.

She knows her husband does not have the gift of foresight, but to her ears, his words sound like a prophecy nevertheless.

 


 

High above the world, in the place where stars and sky meet, a mariner sails, the light on his brow brighter than all others in the sky.

His world is a quiet one. A lonely one, some might say, but he doesn’t agree.

Eärendil is alone perhaps, but he isn’t lonely.

He hasn’t been in a long time. Not since his granddaughter and her lover tumbled over Vingilot’s railing.

Their spirits shine softly in the dark that surrounds them.

A city and her queen, still inextricably tangled together.

Eärendil remembers little of Gondolin.

A youthful spirit tucked against his grandfather’s side, whispering. Flashes of a merry face, and a salty breeze.

When the city fell, Gondolin chose to die with their people, rather than find a new home with the survivors.

Minas Tirith has crumbled to dust, and yet, her spirit is still here.

Eärendil asks her about it once.

She smiles softly, hands tangling with Arwen’s.

“It is different for each of us. Some of us, we are children of the stone and wood that make our city. We live and die with the buildings of our home. Others are linked to our people and as long as they live, so do we, even if we are no longer together. I came into being with the first stone they placed at Mindolluin’s feet, but it was the people that gave me life and they are not gone yet. They will not die while Arwen remains.”

There was no ship to bear her across the sea, but high above the world, Arwen finds a new home on a ship sailing the skies.


Chapter End Notes

Special thank you to Kaylee and Lyssa who let me info-dump parts of the fic and a lot of lore on them, respectively! You're amazing!


Comments

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Oh! This whole little series is utterly delightful! What a heartwarming concept, and so very much welcome in amongst the grief and tragedy of the legendarium.

I love the limbo that is Vingelot in this, the companionship of these these seems so fitting.

Lovely!

Thank you so much for your kind words!

To me, Vingilot is a bit like liminal spaces. A very special place. I honestly was debating giving Eärendil some sort of Flying Dutchman like task of sending mortal souls on the right path to reach the beyond, but that would have been an entire story in and of itself! So, limbo is a very apt description!

And I adore thinking about Arwen (and Elladan and Elrohir) meeting their paternal grandparents in unexpected ways, it's always fun to write!

Your idea of Beren and Lúthien in Minas Tirith is also still on my mind, maybe I'll do something with that and my ideas about Aragorn and Arwen's view on always being compared to them, we'll see.

....when I read this on AO3. This re-reading led to thoughts about them in space, endlessly sailing like The Flying Dutchman, but at least Eärendil is not alone in its vastness. A beautiful story.