Legolas took in a breath, trying to calm himself before speaking. He said:
"I-It was just that person screaming… Nothing more. I wonder that they are doing to that soul. The voice is definitely male."
Aragorn sighed. "I don't know; could be removing a limb, castrating him, anything."
Legolas didn't appreciate his best friend's dark humor, even though he saw a high possibility in what he said.
"Now go back to sleep mellon nin. It is not yet morn." Aragorn soothed. He brushed stray locks of hair from Legolas's troubled face. "Shhhh…"
Legolas lay back down and closed his eyes and slept once again. Out of curiosity Aragorn gently laid a hand and Legolas's brow to see if he had a fever. His head was turned off to one side so that a flawless cheekbone rested on the dusty stone floor. He was warm, but hopefully only because it was probably up to 95 F in there… Aragorn decided to keep an eye on that anyway.
An unconscious body of an injured seventeen-year-old was drug by a leg from one of the many torture chambers. The guard, who was very tired and feeling lazy that night, conveniently threw him into any old cell as he left for bed because he was too incompetent to find the right key.
And even more fortunately/unfortunately, that "any old cell" happened to be the one occupied by Legolas and Aragorn.
The boy hit the floor soundly, not daring to raise his head. Aragorn immediately sat up and stared curiously at the crumpled form that obviously did NOT belong in this cell.
"Who are you?" Aragorn asked, making his way over to the boy. That task didn't take long, for the cell they occupied was like a Saltines box stood up on end… maybe a little bigger.
"I-I'm Rhett. Another prisoner here… just like you." said the figure in a muffled voice. His thin and dirty arms hid his face.