What makes this fragment at Eanach Dhúin quietly compelling is how it got there: it was dug out of the accumulated rubbish beneath a chancel arch, the point where the main body of a church meets the sanctuary, where debris tends to gather over centuries of neglect and collapse. It is a roughly hewn upper portion of a larger slab, measuring around 74 centimetres in length and 52 centimetres wide, and it now lies embedded in the ground at the north-east corner of the nave. The carving on its face is worn and difficult to read, but a large fleur-de-lis motif is visible, with traces of a smaller decorative element on the northern side.

The slab has a companion. When the antiquarian William Wilde recorded both pieces in 1867, he described them as two remarkable tombstones found together in the same deposit of rubble within the church at Eanach Dhúin. His illustration of this slab, published that year, shows that there was once a corresponding decorative feature on the southern side as well, a symmetry that the worn stone no longer makes clear on its own. Wilde's record is now one of the few ways to reconstruct what the full decoration originally looked like, since the detail has become so difficult to make out in person. The fleur-de-lis, a stylised lily motif with medieval European roots, appears on Irish grave markers and ecclesiastical stonework across several centuries, though its presence here on a fragment pulled from rubble gives it a slightly melancholy quality, separated from any inscription or name that might once have accompanied it.