All was chaos in the normally quiet and serene council chamber. Elves were shouting like Men, each putting forth reasons to be included. Angóre, by contrast, was seated calmly in his chair. Only his eyes showed any light, a flash that had been instilled at the name of Moria.
"Lord Elrond," his voice was swallowed by the roar of the chamber. "Master Elrond!" The din subsided, and many faces turned towards him. Elrond nodded, and Angóre rose. "Well you know me, and well you know of my deeds and journeys over the area which these rescuers shall travel. I boast not when I say that those areas are as well known to me as any, and, though I have never ventured the dark of Moria, gladly will I do so now and gladly stay there, if it will be required of me to free Celebrían. Will you accept my arm and knowledge in aid of this quest?"
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This is my quest, to follow that star; no matter how hopeless, no matter how far. To fight for the right, without question or pause. To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause! -Man of La Mancha
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