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It was all going to be so simple.
That's what Kili had thought. Granted, he'd had a lot of thoughts in his time, and not all of them were particularly astute, or even worth ever mentioning in the company of anyone but his brother. But this thought—this one felt right. As they'd stood side-by-side after the battle had been won, bruised but alive, it had seemed as if nothing could stand between them. He liked Tauriel. She liked him. The rest was a matter of technicalities.
As it turned out, the technicalities were utterly bewildering.
Kili never doubted Tauriel's feelings, any more than he doubted his own. For all of his failings, he wasn't completely stupid—he could recognize that she felt for him. Yet when he began presenting her with the typical gifts of courtship (finely crafted jewelry, traditional clothing, elaborate pastries, that sort of thing) Tauriel had rejected them.
"I can't accept this," she had said, pressing the necklace of golden rings (symbolizing the unending nature of their love interlocked forever, of course) back into Kili's hand.
Kili had stared at her dumbly. "You can't?"
Tauriel shook her head, looking mildly embarrassed. "It is certainly beautiful—and better appreciated by another. I fear I have no place for such an ornament. I do not think I would ever find the occasion to wear it. I would rather it not go to waste."
Kili bit down on the comment that this paltry necklace was scarcely worthy to hang around her lovely neck—such thoughts came to him on a near-daily basis. "Oh." He quickly stuffed the necklace into his tunic, embarrassment making him clumsy. Tauriel seemed to take little notice of his confusion.
Yet despite her rejection, nothing changed between them in the way they spoke and acted. Occasionally Tauriel would trail a hand over his arm, always fleeting, almost shyly. Kili would tease her and she would respond in kind, until he started wiggling the strangely pointed tips of her ears and laughing at their strangeness. At that point Tauriel would often turn red and make a hasty exit, leaving Kili to wonder how he'd botched it this time. In a separate incident, Tauriel asked if she could borrow some of Kili's arrows—and then actually gave them back. She was equally willing to handle his bow, his daggers, even his sword, testing their heft as if she wasn't holding an intimate piece of his life in her hands.
Perhaps their respective feelings were simple. But acting on them was as straightforward as trying to carry on a conversation with someone standing on the opposite end of a windy chasm who only knew three words in the same language as you did—not even three useful words, either. They were trying to communicate feelings dredged from the depths of their soul, yet all they could seem to manage was 'you look nice'.
Perhaps silence would be better. But the thing about silence was that it didn't get much across. With Tauriel now, all he wanted to do was talk. Yet he couldn't seem to find the words.
She'd found him in the armory. They sat on the floor with their backs to the wall, the silence of the armory blanketing them. It was a comfortable kind of silence, Kili reflected, broken only by the faint jingle of chainmail as he worked to clean a lifetime's worth of rust from the links. Tauriel sat beside him, a helmet in her hands, working with equal precision to make the metal shine. She was here by choice—Kili was not. Thorin had caught him and Fili playing "Thunk", a simple game which involved throwing things at the other person until they fell over. They'd made sure there was no one around them, but the game did involve a lot of mobility in the form of frantic running away, and Fili's bad aim had resulted in a bird's-egg welt on an innocent bystander's forehead and a heated lecture from Thorin about Responsibilities. Afterwards Thorin sent them each off to do some menial chores that didn't involve flying knives or arrows. Kili had been winning anyways, no matter what Fili said.
Tauriel had come across him shortly afterwards, and settled in beside him help. He got the feeling she was here for something else—no one would voluntarily spend an hour polishing chainmail, after all. But though the silence between them was even, he wanted to bring them to different ground.
Tauriel set her helmet down in front of her with a quiet sigh. "It's easy to forget how different we are at times."
Kili glanced up at Tauriel, relief welling up that she had spoken first. He raised a playful eyebrow. "Easy for you to say. I'm going to get a permanent crick in my neck from craning up to look at you any day now."
Tauriel laughed, the soft rush of air bringing a smile to Kili's face. He always loved making her laugh. For all the time Kili spent trying to understand the woman before him, he had come to cherish the moments of simplicity. There was nothing complicated about a laugh. Smiles were trickier, but laughter—that required no translation.
"I only meant, that after spending time among your people, I've come to see the similarities between our two kinds that I never suspected before," Tauriel elaborated.
"Don't let Thorin catch you saying that dwarves and elves are similar, he'll probably pitch a fit," Kili said.
Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I know it. It's a miracle I've survived this long."
Kili chuckled. "Well, he hasn't thrown you out yet. That must be a good sign."
"I think we have Bilbo to thank for that. He seems to have softened Thorin up."
"Certainly. Like a meat tenderizer. "
Tauriel smiled to herself, and Kili looked away before he could start to wonder what she was thinking about. True, he didn't consider himself stupid—but when it came to Tauriel he felt like a complete idiot. They'd spoken plenty, that was true—hours and hours in Mirkwood for one, but that had been a rather pitched conversation on account of him being imprisoned. There'd been little time between the death of Smaug and his return to Erebor for more than thanks and a runestone pressed to her palm, a word spoken in haste but not out of turn. Now the fighting was over, and they were all left behind to pick up the pieces. It was no small comfort to know that Tauriel was remaining to pick them up beside him.
With a start, he realized she had been watching him. When he glanced over in question, she merely shook her head. "The braids in your hair are beautiful," she said.
Kili smiled to himself, fidgeting with the mail shirt. "Thank you. It took me quite a while to master them."
"Perhaps someday you could braid my hair that way."
Kili felt his heart leap. Visions of running his hands through her incredibly long hair exploded behind Kili's eyes. From anyone else, there would be no doubt of her intentions—but no, she couldn't have known. Hair braiding was an activity strictly limited to either parents or spouses. No matter what the state of her affections might be, it wouldn't be fair to impose such expectations on her. So instead of leaping up and begging her to let him begin, he merely said "Perhaps," in a quiet voice.
By the time he collected himself, she was looking at him with a hint of concern. "Have I said something wrong?"
"No, no, not at all," Kili said quickly. Glancing down, he realized he had come as close as he was likely to on polishing the shirt. He stood up and hung it back up on its stand, using the excuse to avoid Tauriel's eyes. "I should get back to Thorin now. Make sure he doesn’t need anything else polished."
Tauriel's eyes remained worried. "If you require any help, you need only ask."
Kili smiled. "I bet you didn't expect the glamorous life in Erebor to involve so much armor polish."
"I have learned to try not to have expectations here," Tauriel said with another of her enigmatic smiles.
Kili could have sworn he felt the pressure of her eyes on his retreating back until he turned the corner. Her words seemed to jostle around in his mind as he walked, exchanging meanings with every repetition. The look in her eyes weighed heavy on him as he walked, hating himself for confusing her yet feeling no less confused himself. Tauriel had commented on how different they could be—she had no idea.
Kili shook his head, struggling to wade through the flood of thoughts in his mind. If he couldn't sift through them, perhaps there was someone who could.
"Fili," he said as he burst into his brother's room. "I need help."
Fili looked up from the sword he'd been sharpening with a frown. "Don't bother yourself with knocking, by the way."
Kili flopped down onto Fili's bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. "It's Tauriel."
"Oh, not this again," Fili groaned. "You've already told me how wonderful you think she is. About twenty times by now, I reckon. I'm tired of hearing it."
"No, it's serious this time," Kili sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't know what to do."
Fili's eyes darted between his brother and the sword in his hand. Finally with a roll of his eyes, he plunked his sword down on the table beside him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine Kili, what's the problem?"
Fingers twisting at a stray thread on his gloves, Kili suddenly found it hard to speak. "She said something today."
At the sight of Kili's discomfort, Fili's eyes brightened with curiosity. "Something? What did she say?"
"She asked me to braid her hair," Kili said at last.
After a brief second of quiet shock, a grin grew over Fili's face. "She really did?"
"She can't have meant anything by it," Kili said quickly. "Elf culture is different than ours. I'm sure they're all braiding each other hair all the time over there."
Fili snickered. "I'll bet they are."
Kili shot him a look. "I don't know what to do, Fili. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Last week she offered to share some of her food, a few days before that she was testing out my bow—"
"Alright, I get it. I thought you both made it fairly clear how you felt about each other?" Fili said.
Kili sighed. "I made it clear. She did not. Or perhaps she did, and I didn't understand—perhaps she thinks I've rejected her." The idea sent a pang of dread through his stomach.
Fili shook his head. "Well, if she truly means nothing by it then you should do nothing," he said after a moment. "It's not like Thorin is overly concerned about maintaining good relations with her people, but there's no use embarrassing yourself for no reason. Especially in front of an elf. But," Fili said, a note of delicacy intruding on his voice, "if you really want advice, you should probably go to someone who knows exactly what you're going through."
Kili frowned. "Who would that be?"
Fili looked at him as if he was stupid. "Who else in Erebor is 'involved' with someone who isn't a dwarf?"
"Thorin?" Kili said in surprise. "…You are suggesting I go ask Thorin for advice. On how to woo an elf. And you see nothing wrong with that at all."
Fili shrugged. "He already knows your feelings for Tauriel, so that's not a problem. Besides, Thorin and Bilbo didn't exactly see eye-to-eye at first either, but they worked it out. I'm merely saying, if you want advice on shagging your way across cultural boundaries, you might want to seek out an expert."
"Thank you for that mental image," Kili mumbled. Fili just made a face and returned to sharpening his knives. The worst part was, it wasn't a bad idea. Or if it was, Kili couldn't see it. But then again, he had never been much good at telling the difference. Still, Kili nearly groaned to himself at the thought at the thought. A better understanding of Tauriel in exchange for all of his dignity.
A pretty decent trade, really. His dignity was in short supply.
He showed up at Thorin's door just a few hours later, after pacing his room and running the conversation through his head a few hundred times. When Thorin answered the door, Kili had a whole script mentally prepared for the two of them—which of course, instantly evaporated when he saw the suspicion on Thorin's face.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"What—Uncle, I didn't do anything," Kili spluttered.. "Why does everyone always assume I've done something wrong?" He took a breath, tried to focus "I'm fine, nothing's broken and no one's hurt. I was merely… can we talk?"
Thorin's face softened. "Talk? What about?"
"May I come in?" Thorin nodded and moved to let him pass. Kili brushed by him into the room, glancing around immediately to ensure they were alone. They were, although the door he knew led to Bilbo's chambers was suspiciously ajar. When he turned around, Thorin had his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted up as if waiting to receive a blow.
"Why are you standing like that?" Kili asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Like what?"
"Like you're bracing yourself for something," Kili replied tiredly.
Thorin sighed. "In my experience, any conversation which begins with 'can we talk' is bound to be about something which would otherwise not be discussed."
"Ah, right, well." Kili cleared his throat loudly. "I actually just had a question regarding, er, relations. With another person." When Thorin made no move to appreciate his sugar-coating, Kili gave in. "Specifically with Tauriel."
Thorin's eyes rolled skyward as he turned away, a sharp breath through his nose as if the mention of the elf had dirtied their air in his lungs. "Kili, we've been over this. I've made my peace with what you do in your own time, but I'd like to know as little about it as possible."
"Oh come on," Kili groaned, settling down onto a nearby chair. "She saved my life on multiple occasions, helped repair relations between Erebor and the woodland realms, and served as an invaluable ally in the battle. What more does she have to do to win your approval?"
"She could return to her blasted forest, forget she had ever laid eyes on you, and allow you to sensibly marry someone more suited to your stature," Thorin grumbled, but Kili could tell his heart wasn't really in it. Compared to Thorin's reaction when Kili had first told him about Tauriel, this was practically Thorin giving them his blessing. With a sigh, Thorin settled down in a chair across from him and propped his temple on a pair of long-suffering fingers. "But clearly none of those things are likely to come to pass, so you may as well ask whatever question you have cooked up for me—and no," he said before Kili could open his mouth, "she cannot move in to the royal wing. I know you two want easier…" he winced, "access to each other, but I will hold to my standards in this issue."
"What? No, Thorin. That's not what I've come to talk to you about." Kili resettled himself in his chair as he struggled to find the words he had rehearsed so clearly on the way here. "I merely wanted to ask about any…pointers you might have about talking to her. Seeing as you've also started seeing someone who…isn't a dwarf."
Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, how best to ask her about these things? You and Bilbo seem to have managed—I know elves and hobbits are hardly the same," he said quickly. "Well, actually, I don’t know that. They could be, for all I know. Though Tauriel doesn't have hairy feet."
When his question went unanswered and un-criticized, Kili looked up to see Thorin gazing off into space with a small frown on his face. "Well? What should I expect?"
Thorin shook his head. "I still don't fully understand what you're asking me."
"I just want to be sure I understand her," Kili replied. "We haven't been together in this way for very long, and so far it's been wonderful—her archery skills are absolutely amazing, when we were on the mountainside yesterday she hit a lizard—" The look on Thorin's face steadily declined into disgust, and Kili cut himself off. Babbling about Tauriel could wait for someone more likely to appreciate it. "What I mean to say is, there's so much about her I don't know or understand. What customs might she have that differ from ours? What does she expect from me? Are elves…physically different from us?" A look of panicked realization crossed Kili's face. "…Do elves poop?"
That seemed to snap Thorin out of it. "That's a ridiculous question."
"Yes, but can you answer it? I mean, what if they don't?"
The turn this conversation was taking seemed to be frustrating his uncle. "They eat, don't they? It's got to go somewhere."
"Does it? I mean, can you even imagine an elf doing that?"
There was a moment of incredibly uncomfortable silence.
"I just want to make sure I don't do something stupid," Kili said quickly. "It's a bit hard to ask for answers when you don't even know the questions." He leaned forward. "You and Bilbo, though. You must have talked about that sort of thing. After all, no one in the company thought you two would ever manage to stop mooning over each other, but here you are."
Thorin shot him a petulant glance. "I'm glad to know I had you on my side the whole time, Kili."
"But it doesn't matter now!" Kili cried with enthusiasm. "Because somehow you two have managed not only the cross the gap of two fairly conflicting personalities, but the span of two entirely different cultures as well! Honestly, it's quite amazing." He smiled encouragingly. "So, how did you do it?"
Thorin coughed. He shifted positions. "I, ah, don't recall."
"Oh come on, Uncle, you can tell me!"
Thorin sighed. "I suppose… we merely sat down and asked each other all the questions we had about each other."
Kili stared at him. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"Well. That doesn’t sound so bad, then."
"Oh, quite the opposite," Thorin said darkly. "It was incredibly awkward. Honest communication is generally terrible."
"I think that might be more of a personal problem, Uncle," Kili said delicately. Thorin merely shrugged. Yet Kili had to admit, he had a point—admitting such ignorance to Tauriel's face sounded nothing short of terrifying. Perhaps she would think him an idiot, or even realize that the glaring differences between them were too much to surmount. He felt as if he could feel a gap widening between them, filled with uncomfortable smiles and misunderstandings. It seemed that the more time went on, the deeper the channel cut between them. Before long, it would be insurmountable.
But of course not. He wouldn't allow such a thing to happen. If there was distance growing between Tauriel and him, then he would traverse it. It was as simple as that.
Yet he couldn't help but hope that she would meet him halfway.
Kili's knuckles rapped on Tauriel's door, a little faster and louder than he might have intended. A few moments later she appeared, her hair spilling down over her shoulders and a warm smile on her face.
"Kili," she said. "I not expect you."
"I wanted to see you." He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm not really sure how to begin."
Tauriel raised her eyebrows. "Would you like to come in?" She stepped aside, leaving space for Kili to enter. Once again something flickered in Kili's chest, but he smothered it down—elves must not be as protective of their personal space as dwarves. To see someone's private chambers was a special privilege, but she wouldn't know that. Not yet. With a pang, Kili wondered if explaining the meaning behind so many of Tauriel's idle actions would cause her to withdraw them. He didn't want to push her away. But it wasn't fair to either of them let things go on like this, both of them confused at the other person's actions and neither willing to ask the first question. Well, Kili was ready to start asking. He just had no idea what to say.
Tauriel's room was lighter than many, a window on one side facing the caverns of Erebor with natural sunlight reflected down outside. It seemed she had removed many of the normal furnishings in the room—instead, the floor was covered in a thick rug, and strewn with pillows. Kili eyed them in bewilderment, and was careful to step around them. Why would anyone want to sleep on the floor?
"Is something the matter?" Tauriel asked. She was standing a few paces away, her hands touching her elbows gently.
Kili shook his head. "No, nothing at all. Really," he emphasized when Tauriel looked unconvinced.
"Shall we sit?" She settled down onto one of the many pillows on the floor, folding her body gracefully so that her ankles were crossed in front of her. Kili awkwardly did the same, patting his palms on his knees. Suddenly his hands felt damp with nervousness.
"I just thought maybe we should have a talk," Kili said at last.
Tauriel sighed. "I am glad to hear you say that. I was going to suggest the same."
Kili brightened. "Really?" he asked. A second later the implications hit him. Tauriel also wanted to talk. Suddenly the conversation didn't seem to simple. He cleared his throat. "Actually, Thorin was the one who recommended we have this conversation."
Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "You were talking to Thorin about us?"
"Shocking, I know. There was only a minimal amount of steam coming from his ears."
Tauriel laughed, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as her head threw back. "You must be joking. I've been asking Bilbo for suggestions for some weeks now."
"You have?" Kili couldn't help but laugh along with her. "Well then. It seems like we're beginning on fairly equal footing." He paused with a frown. "Actually, I take that back. Thorin's advice was basically useless."
"And yet here you are," Tauriel said, her eyes bright.
"Here I am," Kili echoed with a quiet smile. He tapped his fingers on his knees, avoiding her gaze. "I suppose you will have to forgive me—I'm about to attempt to be open and emotionally honest. It could get messy."
"I've never been afraid to make a mess," Tauriel replied easily, gesturing to him with an open hand for him to continue.
Kili took a deep breath, and forced himself to meet her eyes. "Well. I'll just begin: I don't doubt how I feel about you. But at the same time…I feel I hardly know you. There's so much about you I want to learn, but I don't know how to ask," Kili murmured. "You are so strange to me at times. But in a good way," he said quickly.
"I feel the same," Tauriel said. "Perhaps the best way to find the right questions is to start by asking the wrong ones."
Kili smiled ruefully. "That could get embarrassing."
Tauriel returned his smile. "I think we can endure it."
Kili bobbed his head shyly. "How about this: I will ask you a question, and then you get to ask me one. And we can continue on like that for as long as you wish."
"That sounds fair." She straightened her back, squaring her shoulders."What is your first question?" If she had reservations, he had yet to see them.
Kili thought about it. "Hm. Now that we've begun, I can't seem to think of a single question." He decided to go with something relatively safe. "Why is your hair so long?"
She laughed. "Long hair is considered a sign of beauty among my people. Along with beautiful voices."
Kili resisted the urge to reach up and touch his own hair self-consciously. "What about your ears?" Kili asked. "Are they sensitive or something?"
Tauriel looked a little embarrassed. "Yes. Very sensitive."
Kili nodded openly, until the meaningful look Tauriel gave him sank in. "Oh. Oh. Right. I'll, ah, remember that."
Tauriel laughed, her eyes darting away shyly, and Kili couldn't help but laugh too. He found himself relaxing a little more as Tauriel thought of her next question.
"Why were you giving me so many gifts?" Tauriel asked. "I don't intend to be rude, but I was very confused."
Kili raised his eyebrows. "It's customary to give gifts to the person of your affections. There's the initial gift of Intent, then a series of gifts of food, jewelry and clothing to initiate the courtship, followed by gifts to the intended's family and occasionally friends. After these have been exchanged, often both parties can begin crafting their Engagement gifts. The person's reaction to each set is very important. Of course, once the couple is formally engaged there's a whole new set of customs to consider."
Tauriel shook her head in disbelief, her eyes growing wider the longer Kili spoke. "That's incredibly complex. How can you remember it all?"
"It's not so very bad," Kili said. "Don't elves exchange any favors in courtship?"
"Not formally. Often the only gifts we give or receive are to officially mark an engagement."
Kili nodded. "So elves do marry, then."
Tauriel smiled. "Yes. We do. But it seems our two kinds have different ideas of what that entails. For two elves wishing to be united, both parties must agree to be true to each other for as long as they may live. This vow is given solemnly, and never broken. No further ceremonies are required."
"But what about your families?" Kili said incredulously. "And your households? How is everyone to know which families are bound together?"
Tauriel smiled. "For elves, such concerns are of less importance. It is the love that matters most."
Kili looked down at his hands, settled loosely in his lap. "And how is it that you can be sure of the one you will love forever?"
"Forever is not so long as you might think. I've found that love changes little, no matter the ages it spans. Love defines a life, not the other way around." Kili risked a look at her face and found her eyes waiting for his. For all of her enigmatic smiles, the angles and contours of her face hiding the meaning beneath, he did not need to doubt her meaning now. Her eyes were soft, unrestrained. He felt the warmth of that smile like the sun on his face, and something in him blossomed.
"I believe it's my turn to ask a question," she said softly. Kili nodded mutely. Tauriel tilted her head thoughtfully, and her smile turned playful. "Why do dwarves braid your hair that way? It doesn't keep your hair out of your eyes."
"It depends," Kili said, finding his words at last. "Each braid has a different meaning based on the style and ornaments in it. Some braids are symbolic of rank, marital status, accomplishments… that sort of thing."
"What about yours?" Tauriel asked, inclining her head to his own.
Kili's fingers reached up to pick out the slim braids he'd begun wearing in his hair, the silvery beads at the end catching the light. "Let me show you." He slid closer, their knees a scarce few inches apart as he held out each braid. "This one signifies royal status. This one is—well, it's a bit more complicated. It's a special braid worn by someone who's done something very difficult and meaningful."
Her hand reached out to gently finger each strand of braided hair, inspecting the intricate patterns with quiet appreciation. Automatically, Kili's hand reached up to cup her own, her fingers so delicate in his own. Tauriel looked up, a flicker of surprise darting across her face quickly subsiding to a fond smile. Kili returned it as her fingers entwined with his own and settled down between them. It felt so natural to reach out to her that way, to feel the smooth skin and delicate bones of her hands under his. But Tauriel had always seemed surprised at such gestures.
"Are elves not so free with touch?" Kili asked quietly, eyes following her thumb as it traced the back of his hand.
"I suppose not," Tauriel said quietly. "We do not express love and affection as the other races do. That does not mean we do not feel things."
"You live a long time to go without this kind of contact." Kili squeezed her hand gently. "…Is this acceptable to you? I can learn to keep my hands to myself, if you just say the word."
Tauriel smiled. "It's very acceptable. I like it when you touch me."
Kili tried to hold back the wild grin that threatened to run away with his face. Carefully, he raised Tauriel's hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on the skin there. "I'm glad. If it were up to me, I would never stop."
Tauriel's hand unfolded from his so she could cup the side of his face. He turned his head to kiss her palm, before raising his eyes to look at her affectionately. She shifted her posture in response, stretching out one of her legs so that it rested gently against his own. He settled his free hand on it easily, earning him a light blush.
She watched him, her lips slightly parted. "I've forgotten whose turn it is to ask a question."
Kili moved down to her wrist, pressing his lips against the blue veins there. "Me too." He felt her other hand creep forward, hesitant, and settle on his knee. "Though I do have one more."
"Mmm?" Tauriel asked, her eyes straying from his face.
Kili paused in his ministrations to her skin. "Does it bother you that I'm a dwarf?"
Tauriel's eyes snapped back to his. An eyebrow rose. "Does it bother you that I'm an elf?"
Kili chuckled under his breath. "Of course not." He paused. "Though if you could just slump a little lower when you're standing next to me…" Tauriel laughed, and Kili shared it. "But truly," he said. "You could be a cave troll, and I would still care for you the same."
Tauriel tipped her head. "I don’t know what that says about you, to be honest."
Kili stuck his fingers behind her knee and wiggled. She immediately jolted with a cry, and Kili grinned. "So elves can be ticklish. That's good to know."
She held up a warning finger, but her eyes were gleaming with laughter. "You will tell no one."
Kili raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I won't. I'm keeping this information for my own use."
"Then I will resolve myself to discovering everything there is to know about you—until I have mapped out every weakness."
"Wonderful. Something to look forward to." He brought her hand back to his lips with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and this time the smile on her lips left nothing in confusion.
There would be other questions later—and one special question in particular, after the proper amount of gifts were exchanged of course. What answer she would have for him, he couldn't be sure—but perhaps a little uncertainty wasn't such a bad thing.
Some things were certain, after all.