Is Fantasizing About Fantasy Recursive?

Nicole scribbled notes from a book and offhandedly asked, “Where do elves come from?”

Michael paused his bookreading and thought a moment. “Scafira,” he answered. He went back to reading.

“And dwarves?”

Michael paused again. “The gemen lands, I imagine.”

“How did J.R.R. Tolkien know about them?”

“He didn't. He made up stories.”

“But he mentions elves, dwarves, and gnomes.”

“Gnomes are not hobbits. And elves and dwarves aren't really like that. Georg is closer to a dwarf.”

“And Gandalf, are you like that?”

Gandalf was interesting as a character, but not much like Michael. And Tolkien's wondrous imagination fell far from reality. “Nicole, it's a made-up story written by a human who has never met the species who populate his fantasy world. It is pure fiction. Accept it as such.”

“Shouldn't somebody correct him?”

“... No! No one need correct an author's fantasy construct. Besides, he's no longer in an adviseable state.”

“What?”

“He's not of this earth any longer.”

“He went planeswalking?”

“He's dead.”

“Can't that be fixed?”

Michael snapped the book in hand shut in shock.

“If you ever, ever consider that, you'd better have a bloody good reason. Editing someone else's narrative isn't a good reason. Announcing the word of god... maybe... but I'd still be reticent about it.”