The other fell on Christmas Eve 1966, brought down by a storm, and has not been raised since. What had been a pair is now a solitary monument, three metres tall, oriented along a north-east to south-west axis, its companion's absence more conspicuous for being so precisely documented in local memory.

Standing stones set in pairs are a recurring feature of the Cork and Kerry landscape, their original purpose debated but their prehistoric origins broadly accepted. When the antiquarian Caulfield visited in 1866, he noted twelve stones lying in the immediate locality of the pair, some of them considerably larger than the upright stones, partly buried in the boggy ground. Local tradition went further, holding that at least seven stones had once stood in the same field. Whether these represent a dismantled alignment, a collapsed setting, or simply the slow subsidence of a once-denser arrangement is unclear. By 1934, when O Nualláin recorded the site, the second stone was still upright, positioned roughly 2.6 metres to the south-west of its partner. The surviving stone measures 2.2 metres in length and 0.65 metres in thickness, giving it a broad, confident profile that makes its continued presence feel almost deliberate against the quieter evidence of loss around it.

The boggy soil that Caulfield described in the nineteenth century likely accounts for why so many of the surrounding stones came to rest where they did, sinking gradually rather than being carted away. The one still standing offers a small lesson in how prehistory persists, not always through grand survival but through the chance combination of hard stone, soft ground, and the occasional absence of a useful quarry nearby.