No Small Dreams by just_jenni

---

Chapter 1

---

Finrod awoke in the morning on the banks of the Sirion to see the naked figure of Turgon emerge from the cold water. For a moment Finrod could not gather his thoughts for the vivid dream of the night before stayed fresh in his mind. In it had been some of the most compelling visions he had ever before manifested and these dreams had raised an irresistable desire in him - imbuing his entire being with a feeling of ultimate responsibility. From this dream he knew that he had to become a leader and not just any leader but one who was able to command vast numbers of people to successfully do his bidding. He dreamt foremost that he was to be their protector as well as their guide, mentor and friend.

His gaze was concentrated on Turgon, who looked as energized as Finrod felt. Another kind of desire rose in the fair-haired elf. Turgon's black hair, freshly wet from his swim, framed his pale face and clung to his shoulders, the side braids dripping water down his chest, running in rivulets along his torso to disappear somewhere along his thighs. How Finrod desired to lick that water from his friend's ivory skin before making sensual love together on the riverbank. He started to rise to his feet but the startled look on Turgon's face caused Finrod to pause.

Turgon's eyes were open wide, the whites showing all around the silvery-grey irises. They were gazing past Finrod into the distance and he walked slowly back to camp without stopping. Finrod realized that his friend was not ignoring him, but lost in a reverie of his own.

Finrod grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around Turgon, then led him to sit by the fire. Both men regarded each other solemnly, in silence, for a few moments, neither speaking. Turgon's braids were still dripping water on his chest, which was too tantalizing for Finrod to ignore any longer, and he moved forward so that he could bend and lick the water in slow, lengthy laps. Turgon unwrapped the towel from his body and began to dry the rest of his hair with it, while Finrod busied himself with unfastening all of his clothing as quickly as he could.

They knelt facing each other, neither speaking, but Turgon raised his hands and Finrod immediately clasped them in his own. He gazed into Turgon's eyes with his own similar, expressive ones, waiting to see if his cousin would speak. When no words emerged from his lips, Finrod bent forward and unclasping his hands, grasped Turgon around the waist, pulling him toward himself so he could kiss him. The kissing led to lovemaking and when they were finished, Finrod asked, "Would you like something to eat? I heated some soup from last night's supper. Something nourishing might be a good antidote to the cold river waters."

Turgon stood up and moved closer to the fire. "Thank you," he said, more politely than usual.

Fingon considered that his friend might be open to a different tactic. He felt he should try to find out if Turgon had dreamed as well. "Speaking of the Sirion," he began, "did you notice anything unusual last night?"

"Unusual?" Turgon's face was a mask of innocence. "No..." he replied slowly and hung the damp towel on a branch close to the fire. He said nothing more as he retrieved a pair of leggings from the same bush and began to pull them over his long legs.

Finrod thoughtfully poured some of the soup into a wooden bowl and plopped a spoon into it. "Have you anything you'd like to tell me?" He asked in a tone more sombre than usual. He passed him the bowl of soup, poured himself one, then went to sit on a large nearby rock to eat it.

He noticed that Turgon wasn't meeting his gaze. He sipped slowly from the bowl, his own eyes downcast. It seemed to him that Turgon was unusually quiet this morning, whereas Finrod felt excited and wanted to jump around with the excess energy he felt as a result of his dream.

"Were you expecting something...er...specific?" Turgon finally spoke between sips but his tone was tense and wary.

'Not really," Finrod sighed. He had had the idea that Turgon might have shared his dream with him if he had had one and he was bursting to tell him about his own, but something stopped him. The possibility that Turgon had not dreamt anything at all made Finrod curiously reluctant to describe his own. He was puzzled by the change that had seemed to come over both of them. Deep down he didn't want anything to change between them, but if he told Turgon about his dream of becoming a strong leader of many people, and if Turgon had not had a similar dream, then he might think that Finrod was thinking himself too grandiose. Perhaps even more so than Elu Thingol, and both of them used to make fun of Thingol many times to each other, resulting in much merriment between them. It was one of the little things they shared together that Finrod valued immensely.

He sat back, leaning against the bole of a tree. In his mind he played out the details of his dream as it had unfolded itself to him. He had initially been afraid of forgetting it, but realized that he would always remember every single detail.

Spread out before him he saw a tremendous system of caves meandering below the land that ran along the edge of the River Narog. He stood on a precipice and looked down upon their beauty. They had been reconstructed from their natural formations and were now festooned with gold and silver and encrusted with precious gems along their arches and spires. The precious metals and jewels came generously from the dwarves of the Blue Mountain, whom Finrod's elves traded with in a friendly and cooperative manner. These dwarves had a great talent for architecture and design which showed in the work they had managed to complete in Finrod's cave system. It rivalled that of Thingol, which Finrod had greatly admired each time he visited Menegroth. "I shall call it Nargothrond," he whispered to himself.

"Pardon?" Turgon asked, startling Finrod out of his reverie.

"Oh nothing, dear cousin," Finrod said smoothly. "I was just dreaming."

It was Turgon's turn to appear startled. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Something beautiful," Finrod replied, loth to lie but determined not to spill his secret. "Like you, dear one."

They made love again beside the fire. When Finrod came to climax he thought again of his caves. He knew exactly where they were along the Narog and was impatient to go there to plan out his system. The idea of building the enormous structure excited him greatly.

"Ah," he cried out, climaxing more intensely than he ever had. Turgon gasped with pleasure and Finrod felt immediately guilty for his subterfuge.

At the same time he was excited, he was also saddened by the thought of needing to keep the dream a secret, at least initially, until Nargothrond was built and ready for everyone else to know about. He felt he could trust his family and friends, but what if the enemy found out he was building a refuge and told Morgoth? A new war might arise sooner than expected and Finrod could not let that happen.

At one time his family and friends were so close, both in their relationships and their homes that one could toss a stone and hit another house. They all got along well (except for Feanor) and delighted in sharing family secrets. But those were all harmless by comparison. Finrod had always loathed the rift that had occurred among his extended family as a result of Morgoth's stealing of the Silmarils and Feanor's part in it had sickened him. He had not followed his beloved father back home to Valinor after the burning of the ships but decided to follow Feanor and his host into Middle-earth. The sadness he had felt upon leaving his father behind had seemed unbearable at the time and still lay like a heavy weight upon him. He thought hard upon what it would feel like to further sunder what remained of his family. Would it be of his own doing? Was he capable of being just as bad as Feanor?

But the dream had imbued him with a newfound desire to build and in so doing to bring people together - and not only his own people but the others who occupied the new lands. Besides what the dwarves had built, Thingol's Menegroth and his own tower, Minas Tirith, all of them grand structures, there were not many secret, hidden places, well-fortified, that could withstand sustained enemy attacks. For this was a time of peace but the dream had filled him too with a sense of impending gloom despite its positive aspects. Finrod was eager to begin - first to find the cave system along the Narog and then to start building his dream among them. Could he convince the others to follow him? He was sure that he could.

He looked at Turgon who was finished dressing, and who looked back at him, dark eyebrows raised in curiosity. At first he had wanted to tell Turgon all about his dream but now had convinced himself of the reasons why he should maintain his secrecy.

"What is it Finda?" Turgon used his old Quenyan lover's name for his cousin. "You look as if something serious has been occupying your thoughts this morning."

Finrod laughed. "I was thinking that perhaps we should not linger here too long. I am beginning to feel restless from a sense of guilt - that I should be with my men, doing something more constructive than lying by the riverside doing nothing else but making love with you."

His own words surprised him. Did they sound too blunt and dismissive? He would never have spoken to Turgon this way before. But had the time come for a parting of ways? He looked quickly at Turgon, and was relieved to see that his cousin did not appear at all offended.

"I'll tell you something, Turu," he said, using the familiar term of endearment. "I feel that something new has arisen in the air this morning. Do you feel it too?"

Turgon raised his hands in the air as if to embrace it. "Yes, I do feel it," he replied, looking up at the sky. "It seems strange but I also feel as if a change has come upon us like a changing of the seasons, yet it is not time for that yet."

Together they put the fire out and began to pack their camping things, getting ready to move out.

"Perhaps it is because we are in the middle of this time of peace," Finrod mused, "where before we knew nothing but war and fighting for many years past."

Turgon sighed. "Do you ever think back to our days in the old country at all? Living in the white city? How beautiful and peaceful it was?"

"Yes, of course I do. I miss Ada and Amarie terribly sometimes."

"So much has changed for us. I wish we could have the same peace and beauty here." Turgon's voice was wistful but held a note of hope.

Finrod sighed deeply. "I wish for that too."

The two elves finished packing up their things and began to walk off together along the river.