It was Christmas eve. The children were asleep in the Big House, and the Sad-eyed Horse was feeling even more sorry for himself than usual. No one had taken much notice of him lately, and apart from an occasional trot round the yard, he had been stuck in his stable for years. 

"It’s most unfair," he said to himself, "especially since this whole Christmas business started in a stable like mine anyway – those children really ought to be celebrating in here with me tomorrow. Still, now I think about it, I’m glad they won’t be – far too noisy for my liking." 

The Sad-eyed Horse had been grumbling to himself in this way ever since the lights had gone out in the Big House, and the more he grumbled, the less he felt like sleep. 

He longed to be running wild and free through the fields he knew so well, to feel the crisp snow crush under his feet and to have the cold edge of the night make his tired eyes water with something fresher than the sadness he felt now. 

When the Sad-eyed Horse could think of nothing new to grumble about, he admitted to himself that he was tired and it was time to get some sleep. So he lay down on the straw and tried to think comforting thoughts to send him off. 

He had just closed his eyes when a familiar sound made him raise his head – the dull clunk, followed by a squeak and then a groan, which meant that someone had opened the gate into the yard. 

"Who could that be?" he thought, "Hardly someone from the Big House at this time of night!" 

He got up and leaned his head out over the stable door and peered across the yard. There was just enough light from a pale moon for him to make out a small figure standing hesitantly at the gate. 

The figure came forward until the Sad-eyed Horse found himself looking down at a little old man with such a beard that only two twinkling eyes revealed that he had a face at all. 

He wore bright red pyjamas with white cuffs and collar, and on his feet were the reddest gumboots the Sad-eyed Horse had ever seen. 

He took a bag from his shoulder and placed it carefully on the ground in front of him. He cleared his throat timidly.

"Ahem!" said the little old man, "I’m very sorry to bother you at this late hour – I’m afraid I don’t even know your name. My name is Father Christmas, perhaps you’ve heard of me?" 

The Sad-eyed Horse closed his eyes tight shut for a moment, and then opened them again, just to make sure that he was dreaming. 

But the little old man still stood there, and seemed to be waiting for a reply.
 
"Of course I’ve heard of you!" said the Sad-eyed Horse, "But I always thought you were just a story to help little children go to sleep on Christmas Eve, and…"
 
 Here he stopped suddenly, for he thought he must have offended the old man.
 
"Don’t be embarrassed!" said Father Christmas, smiling gently through his beard, "Many people think that, especially when they get older. The fact is, I have a very real problem right now. Let me explain."
 
And Father Christmas explained.
 
"Each year I find that more and more people want more and more presents, and last year I only just managed to get round to them all in time. I asked for an assistant, but was told no, I had to do the whole thing on my own.
 
"It’s a bit much, and I’m not getting any younger, you know. Anyway, the point is, my reindeer are exhausted and can go no further, and I’ve still got one or two presents to deliver here and there.
 
"I have come to you because I know how you long for a breath of freedom. Perhaps we can help each other – I’m not too heavy, as you’ll discover, though I admit I’m getting a trifle stout these days."
 
The Sad-eyed Horse knew what was being asked of him and all at once his tiredness vanished and his eyes shone gratefully down on the little old man. 

Soon they were flying out through the night together, sometimes almost touching the starry sky. 

For Father Christmas had taught the Sad-eyed Horse how to gallop on the wind. 

And the Sad-eyed Horse was sad no longer – his eyes glittered bright like the stars, for his heart was filled with a wild joy he had never, ever, felt before.

Together they stopped at all the houses where there were still little children without any presents – the Sad-eyed Horse would wait, treading the air, while Father Christmas squeezed himself down a chimney or through a window – he always thought that getting in through a window was somehow cheating, but who was he to go telling builders how to build houses? 

"The chimneys get narrower, and I get fatter!" he said, laughing. And the Sad-eyed Horse laughed with him, and tears came into his eyes because he was so happy.
 
At last there were no more houses left to visit, and Father Christmas’s sack was empty. He was so pleased with their night’s work that he laughed and sang and told stories about Lapland all the way back to the stable.
 
Lapland was a place where horses ran free, he explained, and sadness was unknown.
 
But the Sad-eyed Horse was beginning to feel sad again, for he knew that his freedom was coming to an end.
 
And when the time came for him to say goodbye to Father Christmas, he bent down close to the old man and looked very sad indeed.
 
But the old man smiled and looked deep into his sad eyes, saying, "Do you think that I would leave you without a present, when you have helped me as you have?"
 
And as he spoke, he kissed the Sad-eyed Horse lightly on his bowed head.
 
The Sad-eyed Horse felt a warm glow spreading through his body, and the sensation was so strong that he did not even hear the sound of the gate as the old man left the yard. Instead he fell into a deep sleep until late into Christmas morning.
 
When he awoke he looked out of his stable at the trail of footprints that the little red gumboots had left in the snow, and the he knew for certain that he had not been dreaming.

And although he was no longer free, he did not feel bitter or sad, but calm and utterly at peace with the world.
 
For it was the gift of Eternal Happiness that Father Christmas had given to the Sad-eyed Horse.
 
And although he will never be sad again, he misses the old man deeply, and often gazes wistfully up into the sky, wondering where he is and what he is doing, and whether he is happy too.
 
He would dearly love to see the old man again one day, and each night he listens in hope for the sound of the gate before he falls asleep.
 
And, who knows, the two of them may ride the sky together again – let us hope so, for they are true friends and will have much to tell each other.