Thirteen by Dawn Felagund

Rumor

The Geats remember that, after the War of Wrath, Angband's depths were too dark to delve. Beowulf/Silmarillion crossover (but you don't need to know Beowulf to follow).

The twist of a dragon on the hilt design was a reminder.

A distant memory—so faded to be nearly an instinct, a collective dream—remembered a black dragon rearing up to fill the sky. Remembered fire sudden enough to peel away the roof of a hall. Remembered bodies incinerated before their ashen tongues could scream.

The settlers, at the verge of the ice-cluttered sea, twitched in dreams (or memories?) of depths too dark to delve.

The black she-dragon, her eggs: a rumor.

So as they established their own long hall, their artisans and poets remembered, exalted. Dreaded what would come.