How Green Becomes Wood

Dark nodded and returned to the dining room with Tristan, pulling out Ivy's chair so he could see it better, "I carved it so it matches the rest of our chairs. I thought it would be nicer than if it stood out."
 
"Did you carve the other chairs as well?" Tristan asked, amazed. He rolled closer to Ivy's chair and looked it over closely, lightly running his fingers over the details. "This is amazing, intricate work! Truly amazing. You have developed quite a skill."
 
"I carved them, but I did not build them, the same is true of our doors and my marriage bed," Dark replied, running his thumb along the highchair's backrest, "This one I designed and assembled myself. I can only show you photographs, but I also built and engraved her crib, bassinet, and Xander's wardrobe. Typically I work on a smaller scale, but some things are worthwhile."
 
"I can see the care and love in every single stroke," Tristan remarked without thinking much about it. It was a somewhat cliche thing to say, but he meant it. "It's beautiful. Seeing this, I can only imagine how detailed your smaller items are." He turned from the highchair and gave the rest of the chairs an appreciative look before looking up at Dark. "I would love to see more pictures. Your work is spectacular!"
 
As with all aspects of his life, the photographs on Dark's phone were carefully organized so he was able to pull up a folder of his woodworking before handing his phone to Tristan to scroll through. "This is her crib," He said although it was obvious, "but this folder has most of my work."
 
"Good! Grief!" Tristan said in awe. "This is... Amazing! Amazing is hardly the right word for it." He fell silent as he carefully scrolled through the pictures, looking at each one in detail. "Beautiful."
 
"Thank you," Dark replied, subduing his own pride at the compliment, "I have worked rather hard at it, for many years. And have the scars to prove it," He showed the irritating scar on his hand from earlier in the year, which had yet to begin to fade to any significant degree, "My sons tell me I am in dire need of new hobbies, but I do not see how this is insufficient."
 
Tristan chuckled as he looked at the scar. "I am afraid I cannot remark on that." He paused when he found Xander's wardrobe. "Oh my. That is astounding! I did not even care for the books and I want to say that it is very Narnian."
 
"It was not quite my intention," Dark admitted, "but Xander needed his own storage, I worked with him to make sure it was something he would like. I did not want to present him with something overly ornate, but still something nicer than what you could buy at an Ikea."
 
"I think you did an excellent job," Tristan said, nodding. He looked through the pictures a little longer before handing the phone back to Dark. "Thank you for sharing these with me. You have a wonderful talent that you have cultivated to something truly amazing. Thank you."
 
"I never know what to say for talent," Dark admitted, returning his phone to his pocket, "but I appreciate your praise. I have spent many, many long years working at it. And I have many years yet to continue to develop. I am never satisfied."
 
"I have always found that talent gives you an easier start, but dedication to growing a skill will outpace pure talent in nearly every area of life," Tristan remarked. "Your talent, I think, is seeing what can be and a steady hand to guide your skill into creating that." He smiled and shrugged almost awkwardly. "At least, that is how I see it, but I have not been cultivating any of my skills as long as you have."
 
Dark nodded, casting his eyes about his home, appraising his own skill interwoven amongst the rest of the decor in his home. "Perhaps. I think there is likely some merit in your belief. At the same time, I have never known anything to come to me without great effort. And what difference is skill which originates in innate abilities and those which are earned purely through dedication, once both craftsmen are equals? To my eyes, passion is a greater virture than talent. The most talented among us may lack the drive to reach their true potential. The passionate never do. But I already feel like an old man."
 
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"I suppose it really comes down to your definition of what talent means," Tristan mused. "Many seem to think having talent means that something comes with not effort at all. It might mean something comes easier, but there is always work involved. By that trait, nothing comes without effort, meaning someone with no talent can still learn whatever it is they wish as long as they are willing to work for it. Of course, calling the work you do pure talent would be an insult. What you do is more than just talent whether or not you had talent to begin with."
 
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Again, Dark took time to deeply consider this position, tugging lightly on his beard. Then he directed his unyielding gaze back to Tristan, "Tell me: in your estimation, is talent inherited? Does it run through our bodies as blood, as with our colours and certain ills? Or is it thrusted upon each of us independently of all else? A unique fate or destiny bestowed upon us by indifferent, distant stars?"
 
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Tristan did not say anything at first. His initial instinct was that Dark was angry and he should either push back or retreat and try to 'fix' it or both. He forced himself into stillness. Dark was difficult to read, but not impossible to understand. He doubted this was Dark angry. After a moment, he said, "I suppose in some cases, yes, a talent can be genetic. Perhaps certain families can have certain predispositions toward certain talents, or even people groups, and it may not even be seen as a talent because it is so normal for them. However, genetics can be fickle, as can fate or whatever you might wish to call it. Sometimes, things happen for a reason that we can see and understand. Sometimes, we do not see the reason until much later. And sometimes it really does appear to be for no reason at all. In all cases, I think the reaction is the same, so it ultimately does not matter. The deal of the cards does not matter as much as how we play them." He gave a hint of a smile. "Usually."
 
"I suppose I would have to ask, when it comes to groups of people, is it talent, or is it growing up for generations around who learned to do it? If you are taught a skill from childhood and watched others perform it before you were able to begin to learn it, surely you would take to it more easily than those who had not encountered it before." Dark mused, folding his arms across his chest, his heavy eyebrows as he thought through what Tristan was saying. "Do you believe in fate, then? Preternatural gifts?"
 
"Yes, but I think it is more complicated than just, 'Fate made it this way,'" Tristan said cautiously. "I do believe in a type of fate and that it does influence our lives, but that does not excuse us from our choices and actions. Bad things can and will happen, and perhaps we are fated to experience them, but that does not mean we should pout in the corner and lame fate for how terrible things are. I suppose I also believe in preternatural gifts, as well, and that we do not always discover what those gifts are, and sometimes even if we know what they are, we do not always have to follow those gifts. At least, not in the way the typical person might believe we should. As for your first question about growing up in a group of people who have done something... well, that is the eternal argument of nature versus nature, isn't it? I think it is a bit of both, though not always equally balanced."
 
"You and my wife would agree on much." Dark replied, still furrowed due to both an unreadiness to accept Tristan's view point but not quite believing it was incorrect to be rejected wholesale, "She is a firm believer in fate, but believes also there are multiple destinies ascribed to each soul, and the choices they make moves them from one path to another."
 
"I am glad to know that we share a commonality," Tristan chuckled. "I am not sure I would go quite that far, either, I think I am a bit more restrictive in my, ah, soul fate belief, but if I am incorrect, I do not think I shall be overly concerned about it at the end of things."
 
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