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He helps the freedwoman board a ship to the River Kingdoms and that's it, they can't catch her anymore, and he can bask in the uncomplicated high of a Good deed done.
The nearer Wound is almost familiar ground, by now, so he crosses the Warstone line on his way back. No-one will pursue him here and he'll be fine, as long as he's careful and ready for a fight.
So of course it's not a fight that gets him.
An Abyssal rift opens up at his feet and spits him out - elsewhere.
The wraiths let Gord run away.
Or, they can't see him, but they can see the mysterious hole in the Song of the world (which looked like a bag to their horses) moving, and they're guessing someone they can't see is carrying it. Or even if it's moving on its own, they don't care. The Ring is right there. And that's what their Master told them to get.
They still don't know what mysterious magic blinded them to all the people who had been there a moment ago... but they don't want to wait and let things get even stranger.
Frodo is wrestling with this sudden wave of fear too, but his fear is swallowed up in a sudden temptation to put on the Ring.
Despite all the warnings he has heard, he can think of nothing else. It isn't a hope of escape; it isn't a hope of doing anything whether good or bad - he simply feels he must take the Ring and put it on his finger.
He can't speak. He shuts his eyes and struggles for what feels like a long while... but then resistance becomes unbearable and he draws out the Ring and slips it on.
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