They are irregular in shape, slightly different in height, and have been there long enough that local tradition has woven a specific ritual around them: coffins, it is said, were carried between the stones on the way to burial. That detail alone lifts them out of the category of merely old and into something more quietly charged.

The stones sit within a layered early medieval ecclesiastical enclosure, the kind of circular or oval boundary, often still traceable in the landscape, that defined sacred space around an early Irish church and its associated cemetery. The medieval church they stand beside lies just to their east. Whether the stones predate the Christian site entirely, or were always part of its fabric, is unresolved. One working theory is that they once marked a formal entrance into the graveyard, a threshold through which the dead were carried with deliberate ceremony. The northern stone measures 1.69 metres high; the southern stands a little taller at 1.78 metres. Set 1.95 metres apart, the gap between them is narrow enough to feel intentional, wide enough for a coffin to pass through. Ciaran Manning noted the local tradition in 1987, which at least anchors the story in the recorded record, even if its origins stretch much further back.