Gwyllian

The stars were young upon the heaven’s dome and darkness dwelt under the shade of trees and in the darkness evil creatures roamed, when a horn sounded clear and pure in breeze. Like thunder rode there Béma on his steed and Nahar's mane shone bright with silver light: glistening dream, the music of his feet, before them fled the creatures of the night. Now hoofbeats silenced, Béma rides no more in Middle-earth under the rays of Sun, but Nahar's children still stay on this shore and on the grass of Rohan freely run. The lords of horses, Mearas free and strong, the steeds of kings that came out of a song.