Daria on the Trail Part Three
DISCLAIMER: I do not own either A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. Nor do I own Daria Morgendorffer. The former belongs to GRR Martin and Daria belongs to MTV Viacom. This story based on the real Oregon Trail and has little or nothing to do with the computer game of the same name.
This work of fiction is written for my own amusement and ego gratification.
Daria On The Trail*Daria On The Trail*Daria On The Trail
Oh, boy, she thought. I'm definitely back in the Wild West era.
That stone hillock with the tall spire was definitely Chimney Rock and it looked even higher than it did in some of the travel guides she'd referenced for one of her American Studies classes. She looked again at the Platte River. If it didn't flow pure and pristine eastwards towards its confluence with the Missouri River, it still didn't show any signs of twentieth- or twenty-first century civilization: no aluminum cans, no plastic litter.
OK, what the hell do I do now, she thought. A phrase from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy came to mind while she took some more deep breaths: Don't Panic. She took more deep breaths and used the space to think of what she'd do next. First, she'd have to junk her twenty-first century contingency plans. There's no point in trying to get a ride to a bus station and going back to college if neither the bus company nor the paved roads she'd taken for granted since childhood existed. She didn't have any new ideas, although she did allow herself the thought of her showing up at Raft College's admissions office, then telling them that that she'd enrolled at Raft in 2001, and wished to be re-admitted. She wondered what year it was.
An idea occurred to Daria: she could still be wrong. Maybe she should check for overhead contrails to make sure she was really in the 19th century? If her admittedly-nutty idea about some wealthy mega-billionaire buying hundreds of acres of land in Nebraska and then removing all signs of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was true after all, they couldn't eliminate the contrails left by private and commercial jets. She resolved to look skywards every now and then. Just in case, she told herself.
The evidence around her made a stronger and stronger case that this was the nineteenth century, not 2003. At a guess, it was probably sometime in the 1850's. So what should she do? Should she continue with the wagon train? Go east? Those were the first two choices. She didn't want to go to Denver or move to the Salt Lake valley and convert to Mormonism. Besides, if she was fifty or sixty-odd miles from Fort Laramie, she still had ample time to think things over. The fort was several days away and she didn't have to act on any decisions until she reached the fort. For now, she'd stay with the Orricks.
The wagon train had kept moving while Daria dealt with her changed circumstances. She realized that she'd now fallen well behind the Orricks' wagon and would need to catch up. She walked back to the trail, trotted forward, then crossed it well in front of the next wagon. The Orricks' wagon had rolled westward three hundred yards from where she'd left it. She trotted up to catch up with it.
"What were you doing, Daria?" said Minti. "You ran ahead of the wagon, crossed the trail, and then stopped."
"I wanted to see where we were and I needed time to think," said Daria.
"So where are we?" said Minti.
"We are approaching Chimney Rock, which means we're still in western Nebraska," Daria replied. She translated the English name into Andal.
"That rock has a chimney?" said Minti.
"Not really," Daria replied in Andal, "but it looks like it does." The Westerosi girl giggled.
"So what is the next landmark?" said Minti.
"Well if we are where I think we are, we'll come to Scott's Bluff," said Daria.
"What's so special about Scott's Bluff?" asked Minti.
Daria's mind went back to the Oregon Trail computer game she'd played several times with the Henry children. "Well, Scott's Bluff is where the trail goes downhill a ways. You have to be very careful or the wagon will crash."
"Does Father know about this?" said Minti.
"I'm sure he does," said Daria. I hope he does, she thought.
The wagon train kept rolling west. Daria marveled at its slow speed: with oxen, it was at a walk. The slow speed was a little frightening: not so much because of the pace, but the thought that this party might not clear the Blue Mountains before the snows. She wondered what month this was; she hadn't asked.
She pondered about her choices as she walked alongside the wagons. Suppose these were the 1850's? If it was, the Civil War was going to break out within a decade. Shouldn't she go east, find Clara Barton, and join the Red Cross or something? Did she nerve to strike out on her own and go east?
She thought long and hard. You ought to go east, said a voice in her mind. That's the right thing to do.
I ought to, she said to herself. But book-knowledge of the 1860's is one thing, and practical knowledge of this era is something I don't have. Maybe I'd strike out if I had enough for a stage coach or a hotel room, but I'm effectively broke. I don't have the knowledge or the experience to head east.
"Coward!" said a voice in her head. Daria closed her eyes and blinked away tears. She wasn't feeling brave and she knew it. She was going to have to throw herself at the mercy of the Orricks. She hoped they were feeling merciful.
Regardless of her fears, the wagons kept rolling west. Daria walked along with them. She didn't like being out here, but whoever had dressed her before dropping her into this nightmare had at least had the mercy to give her thick socks.
The sun continued to rise high in the sky. Daria was no survivalist and she wasn't that good at telling the seasons by the angle of the sun but guessed that it was getting near noon. Shortly after that, Mr. Orrick sent a teenaged boy back and the wagon train slowed to a halt.
Daria walked over to Mrs. Orrick. "What's going on?" said Daria.
"It's time for our noon meal," said Mrs. Orrick.
Mr. Orrick as well as the young man Daria noticed earlier walked over to the wagon.
"I haven't had a chance to talk to you yet," he said. "I'd like to hear your story."
Daria swallowed and looked skyward. I need a miracle and a very big one, she silently prayed to a God she didn't really believe in, let alone worship.
She thought about lying but decided against it. If she lied about her origin, her story would slowly crumble over the next few months and she needed their trust if she wanted to get to the West Coast. She decided to tell them the truth. "I will tell you, but it will sound like a tale of a madwoman or a full-time liar. Even so, I swear that it is true, and I would swear it before the Great Jehovah himself."
"The Great Jehovah?" said Mr. Orrick. "Who is he?"
"Jehovah is the name we give to God the Father," said Daria. "We Americans tend not to speak the name of God the Father. It's not something that's forbidden by law, but it's something you don't do."
"But you use the name of His son all the time," said Orrick with a chuckle.
"That we do," said Daria, giving a theatrical shrug. "A lot of people consider that wrong, too, but they do it anyway. She was not a demonstrative person but she realized that there were times you had to emphasize your point.
"What's your story, then?" said Orrick.
"As incredible as this may seem, I come from a different world and a different time," said Daria. "I come from a world very much like this one, except it was the year 2003 and there were no Westerosi crossing the western US in covered wagons."
"Anyone who has passed through the Arch knows that there are other worlds," said Mr. Orrick.
"The Arch?" said Daria. "What is the Arch?"
"The Arch is the gate between this world and Planetos," said Orrick. The girl's, no, woman's, eyes bulged in surprise. Her expression surprised him: surely she'd heard of it. "It is located to the west of an American town called Westport in a territory called Kansas. Surely you've heard of the Arch."
"No, I haven't," said Daria. "There was no Arch in my world."
"Then why is it you speak Andal?" said Orrick.
"In my world, something magical happened in 1994 and nearly three score mothers and children were brought over from King's Landing and the areas around it. The children were all the sons and daughters of a Stormlands big shot. Shortly afterwards another magical event happened and nearly four score of royal guardsmen crossed over to our world to hunt down and kill the children and their mothers who came over. One of those children ran to my uncle's house. My uncle took her in and raised her as his daughter after he shot two of the guardsmen chasing her. I learned my Andal from her and others."
"What happened to the guardsmen?" said Orrick. He suspected he knew the answer.
"Many of them were killed or wounded," said Daria. "Others surrendered or were captured."
"The strange thing is that the prisoners later disappeared," said Daria. "Nobody on our side knows how or why."
"How many times have your lot been attacked?" said Orrick.
"Well, so far we've been hit twice and we haven't managed to make a return visit," said Daria. "Which is well for the idiots in King's Landing."
Orrick was faintly scandalized by the girl calling the King of the Seven Kingdoms an idiot but decided that the girl had a point. "So what do you know about the Arch?" said Orrick.
"Nothing," said Daria.
This girl sounded educated yet she knew nothing about the Arch. That was strange, thought Orrick. Any Yankee who knew more than a turnip knew about the Arch.
"The Arch appeared in the year 291 after the Conquest," said Orrick. "It appeared near the Trident in the Riverlands. The other side It appeared out in the grasslands west of Westport. That was over seven years ago. Since then, there has been travel and commerce between this world and ours."
I bet there would have been, thought Daria.
"I guess that the Santa Fe Trail wagon trains started heading for the Riverlands instead?" said Daria.
"That and you Yankees built a railway from Westport through the Arch to the banks of the Green Fork," said Orrick.
Wow, thought Daria.
"That wasn't in my world's history books," said Daria.
"So what proofs do you have for your story?" Orrick said gently.
"I have no solid proofs," said Daria. "I have some money, some bills and coins, my portable telephone, and nothing else. Except for the telephone, nothing I'd find convincing."
"I've watched your expression and body language," said Orrick. "You were astonished when I mentioned the Arch. I think we can take that risk." He wondered what a telephone was.
"You would grant me Guest Right?" said Daria.
The Orricks laughed. "You know, you're the first Yankee we've met on the Trail who knows about such things. Yes, we will grant you Guest Right. You can stay with us as far as Fort Laramie."
"Thank you," said Daria. She knew that this was a very big deal. I don't know very much, but as long as I'm with these guys, I'm safe, she thought. Well, relatively safe: pioneer days weren't really safe at all.
"Now that you've taken our protection, I'd like to ask you some questions," said Orrick.
"Oh-kay," said Daria.
"My first question is what skills do you possess?"
That was a fair question, thought Daria. A trip across the west on the Oregon Trail was a grueling journey and supplies were probably already stretched tight even before the Orricks gave her guest right. Orrick had every right to ask her what sorts of contributions she could make to the safety and welfare of the Orricks' household.
"My cooking and sewing skills are minimal. I suspect that your daughters are better at both than I am. I can tutor your children in history, English, and arithmetic," said Daria. "I also know a bit about the Oregon Trail and can help guide you. I don't know as much as a scout, but I do know some things."
"So what can you tell us?" said Orrick.
"Right here?" the girl replied. The more the girl talked, the more Orrick began to think that she'd learned Andal from a Stormlander. "We are passing Chimney Rock," she said, using the Andal words for chimney and rock. "The Americans call it Chimney Rock, and we're likely to come up on Scotts Bluff either tomorrow or the day after that."
