In the north of the lands of Ursal lay a small mountain without consequence. The dwarves of old had built a hill fort upon its flanks, but that they abandoned in the early days of the Kin Ship Wars. Unklar came to this mountain and raised it up, burying the fort and all around in heaps of stone and fresh soil. He pulled water from the earth so that a mere gathered at the top and he set many trees to grow about it. The mere was deep and still and cold. It reflected the heavens above as would any mirror. It was the most beautiful of all the his makings. But its design was otherwise.
Into the water he set a powerful magic so that whomsoever looked into it, lost all track of time and the passing of days had no meaning. And the whole mountain's top became a vale of beauty and danger. Creatures snared within it stayed until they died. He named it Monrudge and it was a prison and a trap for Wenafar.
Birds were Wenafar's greatest love and these she made and set free. She watched over them, and they were her eyes and ears all over the world. And when she learned that some seemed to vanish from her sight upon the top of the mountain she stole away to it, in secret.
Few were the places of Aihrde that Wenafar had no knowledge of, and this was one. She knew it was of Unklar's making but saw many of her birds laying dead around the mere. She approached cautiously, but without fear, for she was a Val Eahrakun and accounted the hand maiden of the All Father. But that fearlessness was her undoing, for when she cast her gaze into the deep waters and saw the light of the skies above her, she fell into a trance. Sitting down by the lake she marveled at its beauty and wondered at the heavens that were partially of her own devising.
And there she remained for many hundreds of years.
Unklar came to her then and wove a mist around the mere and he set snares and traps of his own devising, such than none could easily come to her. In after years, rumor of her came to men of bold intent and many tried to rescue her, but they left their bones, and their tales, upon the jagged cliffs of Monrudge.
~The Codex of Aihrde