Through the fog of pain and drugs, Karl Urban could make out few words.

‘. . .intracranial pressure . . . swelling dangerously . . . optic nerve . . . blindness . . . wait and see . . . ’

‘Who are they talking about?’ he wondered. He fought the haze slowing his mind, making him feel stupid and fuzzy headed. Slowly he opened his eyes . . .

Instead of light, colours, shapes . . . darkness. He tried to raise his right hand to his eyes. ‘Maybe they’re bandaged.’ He couldn’t move his arm more than a few inches.

‘Hey!’ he called out. ‘Hey what’s going on?’ His normally strong voice came out sounding frightened. ‘Will someone tell me something? What is going on?!’ he cried out, frightened to hear tears in his voice.

‘Karl . . .’ a soft, Scottish-accented, voice said, right by his left ear. Karl looked toward the voice, or tried to. His head was immobilised by a neck brace.

‘Billy! Bill what happened? Why am I here?’

‘Karl, you had a bad fall in your last scene. You hit the side of your head on the ground . . . hard.’ Someone took his hand.

‘Who else is in here Billy? I can’t see anything . . . anything,’ he choked on the last word.

‘I’m here too man,’ Dave Wenham added; Dave was the one holding his hand. ‘Viggo, Orlando, well, pretty much the whole Fellowship along with a half dozen others, are out in the waiting area. PJ’s been here, we made him go home, he’s been here the whole time, and is out of his mind with worry.’

‘I . . . the whole time? How long have I been here?’

‘Almost two weeks, mate,’ whispered Dave.

Karl’s head spun; the realisation that he’d lost two weeks of his life almost enough to make him physically ill. He pulled himself from his thoughts when he realised Billy was talking.

‘. . . and let Viggo come in. He’s been sick with worry too, mate. I’ll be here—I called Ali and told her I wasn’t coming home on schedule. Love ya mate,’ he said, squeezing Karl’s hand.

‘I’m going to go get some tea and see how Orlando and the others are holding up, mate,’ added Dave. ‘We’re all here for you man,’ he added.

Karl heard and felt someone approach his bedside. Guessing, based on Billy’s comment, he asked, ‘Viggo?’

The older man bit his lip to keep from crying at this sight. Karl, his friend, still looking, with long blond hair, like Éomer. He grabbed the chair and sat down, taking Karl’s hand in his.

‘Yeah,’ he said, his voice quiet, and thick with unshed tears. ‘It’s Viggo. God Karl, I’ve never been so fuckin scared. I saw you fall, and you just laid there not moving, I thought you were. . .’ Viggo censored himself. Karl didn’t need to hear his fears.

‘. . .thought I was. . . dead, Vig?’ Karl finished.

Biting his lip, Viggo answered, ashamedly, ‘yeah.’

‘Well, I'm not dead, but I sure as fucking hell am scared, and no one can tell me what’s going on!’ Karl was yelling, not at Viggo, but to him. ‘I'm laying here in a sodding hospital bed, probably in one of those bloody gowns that shows more than it hides, unable to see for bandages on my head, and I am bloody fucking scared!’

‘Bandages?’ Viggo thought. Shit! No one had bothered to tell Karl that he was blinded in the fall. ‘Bloody fucking hell those fucking gits!’ Viggo swore in his mind, annoyed at the others for leaving him to break the news. He swallowed hard.

‘Uh, Karl? Man, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this. . .’ He paused. ‘Karl, uh, there are no bandages.’

Karl flinched as though the words were a physical attack. After a few false starts he whispered, ‘no bandages? But. . .then. . .that means. . .’ his voice trailed off, and he recalled the voices he'd heard through the drugged fog. ‘. . .intracranial pressure . . . swelling dangerously . . . optic nerve . . . blindness . . . wait and see . . . ’ One word stood out: ‘blindness. . . blindness. . . blindness. . . ‘ness. . . ‘ness. . .’

‘NO!’ he cried out, unaware that he was speaking aloud until he heard his own voice: ‘WRONG! You’re wrong, I’m not blind! I’m NOT BLIND!’ Tears streamed down his face as he yelled, repeating his denial until his head hurt too badly and he was too spent to continue.

Viggo sat where he’d been, face white, as though his friend’s anger had been directed at him personally.

A nurse rushed in. ‘Mr Urban. . . Mr URBAN,’ the nurse said in a commanding tone. ‘You need to calm down or you will make your injuries worse.’

‘Worse? How bloody fucking considerate of you, you git!’ he screamed. ‘What’s worse than blindness?! Sod off you great bloody bitch!’

‘Kiss your Mum with that mouth do ya?’ a soft feminine voice drawled from the doorway.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He directed his anger, and mostly his fear at this new person intruding on his time and space.

‘My name is Lynne, although I’ve several less than socially acceptable nicknames. I was asked to stop by and have a chat. Nurse, could you excuse us please?’ The nurse stood there, jaw agape. ‘I’m sorry nurse, perhaps you misunderstood. It wasn’t merely a polite request. Get out and leave me alone with Mr Urban. Anyone else in the room needs to clear off too.’

It wasn’t until she spoke those words that Viggo noticed the white cane she carried—the cane reserved, by law, for those who are legally blind.

‘Wait so, are you blind then?’ Karl asked.

‘Yes, Karl, I’m also blind. I’ve read your chart—it was transcripted into Braille for me, before you ask—and you are lucky. Your blindness may, remember that is may, be temporary. I know it’s hard to accept. And I'm not expecting your acceptance this early. But denial isn’t just an African river, love. It’s a harmful state of mind.’

‘Denial? I'm not. . .’

‘Karl, listen to yourself.’ Lynne interrupted him, refusing to indulge his denial and self-pity for even one moment. ‘You refuse to even acknowledge you’re blindness. Not even as possibly temporary. If that’s not denial, then I’m the Queen Mum.’

Even Karl had to laugh at that. ‘All right, I'm blind. Only temporary if I've anything to say, but I'm blind. Hey, who asked you to stop by?’

‘I grew up next door to Sala Baker, one of the stunties. He mentioned you were having a hard time adjusting, after explaining who you were, of course.’ She paused to laugh, ‘I uh, don’t watch much telly.’ Karl laughed again. ‘Wow, twice. Laugh again and I win a set of steak knives!

‘Anyways,’ she continued, ‘when he and I were kids, we were kinda adventurous. We went wandering one day, and found some fireworks. I said he should let me light them cos I was younger than he is. He said he’s a boy so HE should. Well, I won, in a manner of speaking. I lit the first one, but it was old, and something went wrong. It exploded, and burnt my eyes, badly.’

Karl closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine the pain she must've been in. ‘How old?’ he whispered.

‘I was 11. Sala had just turned 14. I’m glad it happened the way he did. Sala loves what he does, and I love what I do.’

‘What DO you do?’

‘Well, I teach Braille, counsel the blind, make presentations, whatever. Now, what happened to you?’

‘Thought you read my chart,’ he challenged.

‘Down boy. Med charts don’t show much. All it says about your accident was a fall from a horse led to a high velocity blunt force impact to your left temporal skull and bruised your brain; high intracranial pressure bruised the optic nerves, leading to blindness. So, what happened?’

Karl sighed. ‘We were filming a fight sequence—are you familiar with Lord of the Rings?’

‘No, I'm not. Other than it’s a series of books.’

‘Okay. Well, I play Eomer, a human warrior. We were filming a sequence with several hundred people, when something happened. I don’t know what, but something spooked the hell out of my horse. I fell, and the next thing I remember is waking up in here. And what’s all that stuff you just said? I'm not stupid by any means, but I never understood medical talk.’

‘Okay, basically, in layman’s terms: you fell hard and fast, landing on the left side of your head, around your temple, here’ she touched his head, on the right side, so as not to aggravate his injury. ‘Your skull fractured a bit, and your brain and skull collided, causing a bruise on the brain. That caused swelling in the skull which, since the skull is fixed size, put pressure on parts of your brain. In your case, it was the nerves controlling sight that took the brunt.’

Karl nodded, then realised she couldn’t see it. ‘Okay, that I get now.’

‘That’s why they hope that it’s temporary. But Karl, you need to be prepared in case it isn’t. That falls into hope for the best, prepare for the worst.’

The door opened then, and Lynne, sensing the change in air flow, and hearing the almost-imperceptible sound, asked, ‘Hi who’s this coming in?’

‘Wow, you're good baby girl.’

Lynne squealed and jumped up. ‘Sala!’ He gave her a bear hug before turning to Karl.

‘Hey man, we’re all really sorry bout what happened. I just wanted to drop by and let you know Moni might show up, but she beat me- baby girl is fast!’

‘Sala Baker, I'm not a baby. You're a whole thirty months older than me—brat,’ she added, sticking her tongue out. Sala laughed.

‘Well, I'm off to become Sauron, for what I hope is the last time. Karl, take care of yourself, yeah? I’ll see you later. Lynne, call me, we need to catch up on life.’

‘Aye,’ she affirmed, ducking from a hair ruffle.

‘Sometimes I swear you have better sight than I do,’ grumbled Sala.

Lynne laughed.

‘So, how did you handle losing your vision?’ Karl asked after Sala had left.

‘I had an advantage you don’t. Youth- not that you're old, but I was 11. Kids are rather adaptable. Did I react badly? Sometimes. Did I wish it never happened? Yeah, although I would be a very different person than I am now. I also had Sala. He does NOT tolerate whinging.’

‘Something tells me you don’t either.’

‘Something told you right. I think I'm worse than Sala.’

‘I guess I'm lucky to have you,’ Karl said, smiling.

A week after he woke up, and met Lynne, Karl was released from hospital. Lynne was there, along with Viggo and Dave.

‘Hey, Daisy, Vig,’ he greeted the men. Lynne smiled in their direction and greeted them as well.

‘I gotta be honest—I’m nervous,’ Viggo admitted, and Dave—Daisy to his friends—voiced agreement.

‘I mean, no offence either of you, but I've never dealt with a. . . a visually impaired peron before,’ Dave added.

‘Well, that’s the first thing. Get rid of this PC crap—visually impaired. We’re blind. Stone blind. Someone who wears corrective lenses is visually impaired. Karl’s the same Karl for the most part. Sure, some things have changed, but mentally, socially, he hasn’t.

‘Now, I've agreed to spend time with Karl and help him get adjusted. Literally the blind leading the blind,’ she said with a cheeky grin. ‘The first lesson is for you as well as him. When you’re helping him navigate, let him take your arm, don’t grab his. Bend your arm slightly, just as if you were escorting a lady. Karl, when you take someone’s arm, take their arm just above the elbow, from the back.’ She took his hand in hers, guiding him through the actual movement, so he could ‘see’ it. He nodded, understanding.

‘What if I can’t find their arm though,’ he asked worriedly.

‘That’s the next part of the lesson,’ Lynne said, lightly. ‘It is perfectly acceptable to ask them to take your hand and guide it to their arm. Again, Viggo and Dave, don’t just grab his hand. It signals impatience for one, and is unnerving. An unnerved blind person is an accident begging to happen.

‘The only other thing I need to share with you, Karl’s already learnt. When telling someone where something is located, use a clock face as a tool. Something straight ahead of the person is 12 o’clock. Directly behind, six o’clock—that’s where the military and law enforcement term “watch your six” came from, by the way. If you use YOUR location as a basis for the clock face, say that something is located at YOUR 12 o’clock or wherever. If you can shift the clock face to Karl’s perspective, tell him it’s at HIS 12 o’clock.

‘This is all horribly confusing, frustrating, and frightening, and not just for him. People who are also newly affected by a friend’s or relative’s blindness, or any sudden disability, go through grief periods too. Adjustment may be harder, because the friends and family truly cannot KNOW how someone is feeling. I know when I went blind, Sala and I had some very trying times.

‘And guys,’ she said, addressing Viggo and Dave, ‘Sala IS available to you guys. Don’t hesitate to seek him out or call him. He also has my telephone numbers, so you can call me with questions. Sala and his family have been through this with me.’

‘Now, let’s get Karl out of this dreary place. Your heads are spinning with all this information, I'm sure.’

Karl stood, disoriented. Lynne was right next to him, supporting him. ‘Come on, Karl. Take my arm. He lifted his hand, and after a couple clumsy passes, found her arm. She laid her other hand over top of his hand, for reassurance and comfort. Dave grabbed Karl’s bags, and Viggo followed behind Lynne and Karl, astonished at the ease with which she manoevered. She moved with a fluid grace and ease that most sighted women lacked.

‘Now, obviously, I can't drive,’ she quipped, pausing. ‘Though it didn’t stop Sala from trying to convince me I should learn!’

Viggo murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Why does that not surprise me!’

‘Sala is meeting me and Karl at Karl’s house. I need him to see it out loud for me, so that I can help Karl see it as well. Viggo, as an artist, you would also be good at that. You are more apt to see details others may not notice.’

Dave, who had returned to the car park to fetch his car, pulled round just then. Viggo helped Karl settle in the car, settling him in the front passenger seat. When the door closed, Lynne took his arm and murmured, ‘Well done. You let him guide you.’ She smiled approvingly.

Lynne opened the rear passenger door, settling in behind Karl. Viggo settled in next to her. Soon the group was on the road, headed for Karl's house, just outside Wellington. Karl groaned at one point during the trip.

‘Feeling carsick now, yeah?’ Lynne asked. A second groan answered her question. Lynne leaned forward, passing a strong mint to Karl. ‘Suck on it, love. The mint will settle your stomach. You may also want to open your window a bit.’

Viggo stared at her, amazed. ‘How do you know all this. I swear you must be a psychic!’

‘Not hardly, or I’d not have been dumb enough to light an old firecracker! Remember, I'm blind too. I still get sick on car trips. It’s not so bad in the rear seat, and,’ she grinned, and stuck her tongue out, revealing the remnants of a mint, ‘I follow my own advice. But I’ve been disoriented, and confused, and scared, angry, frustrated, and myriad emotions that go through one’s mind.’

Minutes later, the car’s speed decreased, and the road changed. They were approaching Karl's house. Apprehension twisted Karl's stomach into a knotted mass of nerves.

True to his word, Sala met the group at Karl's house. After settling Karl in, he led Dave, Viggo, and Lynne on a walk-about of Karl's house. He described it in explicit detail, even counting the number of each piece of dinnerware. As he spoke, he was recording it into a microcassette recorder, which Lynne would later use so she could transcribe the description into Braille for reference.

Karl's bedroom was last, as they needed his input. He sat on his bed, as Sala described the contents and organisation of his closet. Thankfully, he didn’t have a lot of variety in clothes, which made everyone’s lives easier just then. Clothing was sorted and re-hung by style, type, and colour. Sala had brought dividers identical to those Lynne used, and hung them in the closet.

Finally, Karl was brough to the closet, and spent the better part of a half hour learning to identify clothes and their locations by touch. He learnt his first Braille just then, so that he could read the dividers Sala had hung.

‘Okay, my job is done here. Want me to hang about and chat you all up, or am I being kicked to the kerb?’

‘Your choice, Karl,’ Lynne said, softly.

‘I think I’ll kick you out, Sala. I can't say how much I appreciate this. I was wondering how I’d manage, and now I think I might actually be able to do it.’

‘That is excellent to hear, mate! Lynne, you'll be staying I assume?’ At her nod, he said, ‘okay then. Guys, I’ll see you on set tomorrow. Baby girl, call if you need me, Karl, same for you. Although with wonder girl here, I can already assure you I’ll not be needed.’

‘Let’s go sit in the parlour shall we?’ Lynne suggested. ‘For first night home, I recommend take-away or delivery food. Easier to prepare AND eat.’ The group argued it out and decided on a pizza takeaway. Dave phoned in the order, and set out to Wellington to pick it up.

‘Okay, a few personal things still need to be settled. Karl, you’re not ready ready to stand for a shower. Take it from me on that one. I have, at my house, a shower stool. I typically only use it when I'm feeling poorly. You are certainly welcome to it. If you’ve a sit down tub, well, that’s a different story.’

‘I have a shower/tub combination.’

‘Okay then. If you fancy a bath, it’s doable, but you ought to have someone nearby to support you transitioning from sitting to standing and such. Now, for shaving. . . I’ve only experience with. . . well, I don’t shave my face, we’ll say. However, I've read that an electric razor is safer and easier—or easiest—to manage. That, I think, you'll have to work out with some guy friends. Sala might have some thoughts as well.

‘Now, the fun topic—toileting. Sorry lovey, but I don’t advise standing while peeing unless you're using a urinal. Too easy to miss. And I rather dislike stepping in a puddle of piddle, as my Mum says.’

Viggo looked at Karl's red face, and had to fight a sympathetic chuckle. He had to admit, Lynne had a rather good point, and realised that there were a lot of things he took for granted that he’d lose if he went blind.

‘Knock, knock, knock,’ a British voice called out.

‘Heya Dom,’ Viggo and Karl said.

‘Hi guys. Well, hello, pretty lady,’ he practically purred, upon noticing Lynne.

Lynne rolled her eyes. Using his voice as a guide, she looked toward him. ‘Hello Dominic. I'm Lynne.’

‘Lynne, a pleasure to meet such a fair woman,’ he replied, his voice sugar-sweet. He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She gently but firmly pulled her hand back. Not taking her hint, blatantly ignoring it, most likely, he sat down next to her, invading her personal space. She stood, pausing to gauge her whereabouts based on the earlier walkabout.

‘Mmmm, you move so beautifully, angel,’ Dom cooed to Lynne, putting his arm around her waist.

‘Dom,’ Viggo’s voice was sharp.

Lynne turned to Dom. ‘If you don’t unhand me, I’ll show you some of my NOT so sweet moves.’ Her voice was low, dangerously so. Dom let go of her and stared, clearly shocked. He wasn’t used to being rejected like that.

‘Viggo, may I sit with you?’ Lynne asked.

‘Of course, Lynne. I’m at your 11 o'clock position, roughly. My hand is out for you to take, if you want, when you get closer.’

Following his voice and directions, she made her way over to the sofa and found Viggo’s outstretched hand. When she took his warm hand, he squeezed hers gently, encouragingly.

Dom watched the goings on with wide eyes. ‘Bloody hell, you’re blind!’ he blurted out.

‘I am? Well, that’s a relief, I thought that the rest of the world was invisible! Glad that mystery’s solved,’ she retorted sarcastically.

‘Oi, you sure are a cheeky girl, you are.’

‘So I've been told. And you, are a great sodding git!’

‘So I've been told,’ was his response.

Lynne cocked her head. ‘Someone just turned off the main road onto the access road leading here,’ she remarked.

‘Are you bloody mad, woman? That’s more than a half kilometre away. No way you could've heard someone turn. . .’ his voice trailed off as he heard a car—Daisy’s—pull up in front of the house.

He didn’t have to look at Lynne to see the cheeky, smug, grin she wore. Bloody effin’ hell but she irritated him.

Once Lynne was settled on the sofa next to Viggo, Viggo stood. Walking brusquely, he grabbed Dom’s arm, and jerked him to his feet.

‘Oi mate! What gives?’

‘You, me, kitchen, talk, NOW!’

In the kitchen, Viggo backed Dom into the island in the centre of the kitchen. ‘Back off of Lynne, man. She’s not like the girls you usually go with. She’s sweet, and and she may come across as tough, but there’s something about her—she’s not as tough as she appears.’ Viggo’s face was serious, his voice fiercely protective.

Dom, pressed back against the counter behind him, was surprised. He’d not seen Viggo like this before—fiercely protective—except where his son was concerned.

‘Sorry man, I’ll tone it down. Seriously,’ he said, quietly.

Viggo nodded and backed away from Dom, before turning on heel and returning to the parlour.

He found Lynne, Dave, and Karl engrossed in what appeared to be a fierce debate, but as they were speaking a Maori dialect, which he had never picked up, he couldn’t be sure. Lynne’s cocked her head when Viggo entered, and said ‘Oh, back to English guys, Viggo’s back.’

‘How do you DO that?’ Viggo asked astonished.

‘What, know you came back in or that it was you and not Dom?’

‘Both, actually.’

‘Well, I rely upon my ears to be not only my ears, but my eyes. So I've trained myself to pick up sounds most people miss. It’s almost impossible to move about in complete silence. Also, the airflow changes when someone moves about. As for knowing it was you, you walk about barefoot, and Dom is wearing shoes that make a specific sound on the floor.’

‘How do I do that?’ Karl asked. Viggo also expressed curiousity about that.

‘It’s easy. You just relax, and let your ears hear everything around you. You can train your ears to listen for and hear one specific sound. I learnt to identify one specific instrument on a song track to start. Every single thing in the world has a unique sound. It’s a matter of caring enough to learn and catalogue, mentally, as many of them as you can.’ She looked up just then.

‘Dom are you going to rejoin us or are you going to stand in that doorway all day?’ Viggo turned, startled, and saw Dom’s jaw drop.

‘Bloody HELL! How did you know I was there?’

‘I heard your footsteps even though you were trying to be quiet.’

Dom shook his head, and walked back to the sofa; he sat down and crossed his legs. ‘Lynne, I'm sorry for being an ass when I came in.’

‘Apology accepted.’

Karl yawned then, and Lynne said, ‘Okay, I’m kicking everyone but Viggo out. Viggo, I need your help right now, if you don’t mind terribly.’

‘Sure.’

Dave and Dom said their goodbyes, and were off.

‘I don’t have a firm map of the house drawn in my mind yet. I can probably get round between the rooms, but I’d like some eyes that work,’ she joked. ‘At least for tonight.’

‘Sure.’ Then he turned, speaking to Karl. ‘Hey, man. You seem tired; ready to go to bed? It’s around 9.30,’ he added.

Karl answered with another yawn. ‘Yeah, I feel as though I’ve run a race today.’

‘In a way, you have. You’ve done more today than you have since getting hurt. And this being blind thing is pretty mentally tiring,’ Lynne said.

‘All right, want some help settling in, Karl?’ Viggo asked.

‘Please. If this was my apartment in Auckland, I’d have no problem, but I've only been in this house for a month or so.’

Viggo let Karl take his arm, and the two men set off. Lynne rested her head on the back of the sofa, and closed her eyes. ‘What a long day!’ she thought.

When Viggo returned and saw Lynne asleep on the sofa, he stopped. She looked so vulnerable. He had a feeling that he'd been right—her tough exterior truly was an act. He'd have to quiz Sala on her. He sighed.

This wasn’t right, these feelings. It wasn’t the age difference, though he was older than she by quite a bit. It was that Dom had already expressed interest, and he wasn’t sure how she felt toward Dom—or himself. No, best to keep his thoughts to himself.