Perfect... (Middle Earth Inspired Short Story)

Chapter 8

A/N: Just a little language warning, enjoy!
Faeya's POV
"What the actual fuck are you doing?" I asked as my brother's bedroom door creaked open. He was in a dressing gown and surrounded by a blizzard of clothes. His face went bright red and he looked at the floor.
"N-Nothing," he stuttered innocently.
"Sure, this looks like nothing," I deadpanned "Explain."
I sighed as my brother just stuttered unintelligibly.
"For Valar's sake, did Glaedir tie a knot in your tongue when he snogged you?"
At that, Lindir went bright red and stared at the floor.
"Has he?" I asked.
"N-No he has not," said Lindir stubbornly. I raised an eyebrow.
"Sure? Is he a good kisser?" I continued, laughing at his rapidly reddening face.
"H-He hasn't e-even k-kissed me yet," Lindir murmured embarrassedly. I chuckled at his face but decided to drop the subject (for now anyway, my interrogation skills are unbeatable, mwhahaha).
"So... What's with the clothes storm?" I asked. My brother shrugged timidly, making me want to go over to him and tickle him until his mute button broke.
"C-Can't work out what to wear," he stuttered. I grinned.
"What's the special occasion?" I asked. Once again, Lindir's mouth glued shut.
"Oh for fucks sake," I sighed, marching through the mountains of clothes and grabbing my baby brother (fifteen minutes difference is still a difference!). He collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles, trying to push my hands away from my sides. Unfortunately, my brother was wearing a dressing gown...and not much else, so when he fell on the floor... I got a really... REALLY bad view. I screeched, scrambling away and covering my eyes. I heard Lindir stand up, crashing into something and cursing under his breath.
"Ulmo's seaweed covered balls! I thought you were wearing underwear at least!" I screamed. I could hear laughing in the corridor so promptly stuck my head out and said:
"Nothing to see here, run along now."
Then slammed the door shut.
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After about half an hour of sentences like: "No, I don't like that one" or "That one makes me look stupid" followed by "Lindir, if you don't pick something soon I'm strangling you" and once even "Is that one of my dresses?!", we finally managed to pick out an outfit. Typical Lindir: robes. A forest green set of robes with a pair of brown Elven leggings and a white tunic underneath. I left quickly to let my little brother get changed, I didn't need to see... that... again. EVER. Again. Trying desperately to erase THAT mental image, I ran to find Aerin so we could set up "surveillance" on Lindir. What? I was just being a protective big sister. Nothing to do with the fact that Skylaer were the cutest ship ever to sail. No, nothing to do with that at all...
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Lindir's POV
I straightened my robes for the fifth time and checked my hair was laying flat. I glanced up at the clock tower, fighting the urge to start pacing. Was fifteen minutes too early? I knew I was eager to see him again but was that taking it too far? Wasn't it fashionable to be late? I bit my lip as my foot tapped on the ground impatiently, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop myself fiddling with my hair or my clothes. Faeya had said I looked fine, I could trust my sister. I looked up at the clock again. Twelve minutes. It was going to be one of the longest twelve minutes of my life...
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Glaedir's POV
Twelve minutes! Shit! I rushed around the barrack house, my hairbrush hanging out of my hair and my tunic half undone. Hastil laughed at me.
"I told you that you'd be late," he said. I buttoned up my tunic and began yanking the hairbrush through my hair. How the hell did it get this matted?!
"It's not my bloody fault the Sargent didn't stop talking," I complained, beginning to braid the sides of my hair so quick I nearly braided my finger into it.
"That's my father you're talking about, Skylark, watch it. They way you're going, you might get demoted anyway," Hastil warned. I flipped him a rude hand signal.
"Save that for whoever you're meeting," he said disgustedly. I'd told him I was meeting Faeya, Hastil would probably insist I moved to the women's barracks for everyone's safety otherwise. Anyway, Lindir and Faeya kinda looked the same from a distance. You know, brown hair, roughly the same height, seem to both wear dresses... Rivendell elves are weird. I tied my braids off and decided to leave the rest loose, even if I did end up with a white blonde Afro by the end of it. I yanked on my boots, almost ending up arse-over-end into the washing basket. Yay, twenty squaddies week's worth of underpants, just what I needed. I stood up, straightening my clothes.
"How do I look?" I asked. Hastil raised an eyebrow, looking at my blue embroidered tunic (Nana made me bring it, she said it brought out my eyes) and newly washed uniform trousers.
"Like the gayest thing I've ever seen," he said.
'Well done Hastil,' I thought to myself 'That's kind of the idea'
"Shut up," I growled.
"Ooh, touchy," he teased. I just walked past him, 'accidentally' shoving him headfirst into the washing basket on the way out. I looked at my watch. Shit! Three minutes! Without a moment's hesitation, and looking slightly like a moron, I began to sprint towards the eastern gardens.