A gallaun, as these solitary prehistoric uprights are known in Irish tradition, typically marks a burial, a boundary, or something no longer legible to us. This one is aligned north to south, measures 1.4 metres across and 0.7 metres deep, and carries with it a story that sets it apart from its neighbours in the valley.

According to local tradition, the stone once bore markings, though what form these took is no longer clear. That ambiguity deepened when, at some point, a bolt of lightning struck the gallaun and broke off a piece of it. Whether the markings were on the fragment that was lost, or whether they had already faded long before the strike, nobody can now say. The 1998 account by Myler, which records this tradition, preserves the rumour without resolving it, leaving the stone standing in a state of geological and archaeological uncertainty that feels entirely appropriate for a monument of unknown age and purpose.