There Is No Story Without a Fall by Deborah Judge  

There Is No Story Without a Fall

The first dress Miriel made she gave to Indis. This was back at Cuiviénen, where the Minyar gathered berres while the Tatyar hunted with stone tools and the Lindar caught fish from the stream with their hands. At night they all coupled with their mates in the open field, except for Indis who had no mate. She watched Finwë as he lay with Miriel and followed the the lines of the muscles in his back.

"It's called a dress," Miriel said, and it was unlike the ribbons Miriel made to adorn the hair of the Eruhini or the gloves and shoes she made to protect their hands and feet. This dress would cover her nipples that hardened when she looked at Finwë and the flush on her chest when she watched him couple. No one had ever hidden the beauty of an Eru-made body before, but a dress this lovely could be no shame.

"Will you wear one as well?" Indis asked, not wanting to be alone in this, and Miriel's nod lifted her heart.

The dress was a generous gift, colorful and well-made. It kept Indis warm on her way from Cuiviénen, to which no one will ever return.