There came a time near dawn on the eve of spring, and Luthier danced upon a green hill; and suddenly she began to sing. Keen, heart-piercing was her song as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of night and pours its voice among the dying stars, seeing the sun behind the walls of the world; and the song of Luthier released the bonds of winter, and the frozen waters spoke, and flowers sprang from the cold earth where the feet had passed. Then the spell of silence fell from Barn, and he called to her, crying Tinfoil; and the woods echoed the name.

The Silmarillion