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Lómion seeks him out in the forge.
"We must talk." He is pale and shivering, his eyes wide.
"What is it, Elfling?"
"Rôg, I… While I was gone…"
He cannot breathe.
"We must leave," he says, very quickly.
Rôg frowns. "Leave? Why?"
"He knows," Lómion chokes out. "I'm sorry, I couldn't… I tried, I swear I… It was so cold and dark, and I was so alone…"
"Who knows, Lómion?"
"Morgoth," he whispers through tears. "I'm sorry."
Strong arms wrap around him. "Oh, Elfling," Rôg rumbles. "It is not your fault. You did not stand a chance in his dungeons."