Bard did not wait for Tauriel and Beorn to disappear before spinning around and hauling Bilbo off further into the forest. The Hobbit stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to catch himself at the last moment as he was dragged on by his wrist. Once he found his balance again, he dug his heels into the cold ground and tried to yank his captured wrist free from the Man.
"Bard, let go! We have to go after them before they're killed!" he protested as he tried to twist his hand free.
"So we can die as well?" the Man retorted, glancing briefly over his shoulder to give the Hobbit a scowl. "Is that what you want? For those creatures to kill us and get their hands on the ring?"
"No," he admitted, meeting the scowl with a glare of his own, "but I can't just allow my friends to run off to their deaths without at least trying to help them!"
"I don't like it either but we can't do anything for them right now," Bard pointed out without stopping. "Surviving this is the only option we have!"
He felt his heart sink at the Man's firm tone. "How can you leave them behind so easily?"
Bard suddenly stopped and released Bilbo's wrist. Before he could take off, the archer spun around and glared down at the Hobbit. "You think this is easy for me? Beorn and Tauriel are my friends too! It's killing me to walk away from them, but it's the only thing we can do!"
Bilbo bit his lower lip until it began to bleed. He knew Bard was right, he did, but that didn't make the situation any easier. He was leaving behind two friends to their possible deaths and the knowledge burned him from the inside out. He was doing the very thing that he had set out to prevent.
"Where do we go?" he wondered, glancing around the forest before meeting Bard's eyes again. "They can feel the ring. They'll follow us through Mirkwood and anywhere else we go."
"That's why we need to keep moving," the Man replied as he turned around and stalked off. "Maybe we can hide in Dol Guldur. The dark magic around that place might confuse them and throw them off our trail."
"Or lead them directly to us," he pointed out even as he followed his friend into the dark forest.
"If you have a better plan then feel free to say it. If not, shut up and stay close to me," Bard retorted sharply.
Bilbo sighed but said nothing more. He shuddered as behind them the shrieks of the Nazgûl continued to echo through the forest. Inside he prayed with every inch of his heart that somehow, someway, he would see his friends alive again.
~*~
If Dol Guldur had looked frightening at a distance, then it was positively petrifying up close. The moment he stepped onto the crumbling bridge, Bilbo felt a chill run down his back. Oddly enough, it was not the ruins or dark clouds that seemed to hover over the place that unnerved him as much as the eerie silence did. He had been in graveyards with more noise than Dol Guldur.
"I don't like this place," he informed Bard as the Man led him into the keep.
"Too bad," the archer replied without an ounce of sympathy in his tone. He didn't pause either as he walked further and further into the ruins. In hindsight, he realized that Bard, as a father, was probably quite used to whining and was now immune to it.
"How far are we going?" he asked instead, deciding to change the topic.
Bard pointed to one of the still stable towers. "Up there. It will give me a better view of what's coming."
He glanced up at the roofless tower and wrinkled his nose. "I hope it doesn't snow again."
"Yes, freezing to death would certainly be a letdown after all of this," the Man agreed without pause. For that joke alone, Bilbo decided that Bard was forever his new best friend.
Right after Bofur, of course.
Getting to the tower was not as difficult as he had assumed. Though very large and ruined, the fortress was easy enough to navigate. When they finally got to the tower, Bilbo sat down on the stairs to catch his breath while Bard went straight to the crumbled wall to stare out at the horizon.
"I don't hear them anymore. Do you?" his friend asked.
He shook his head and pushed some of his braids out of his face. "No. I haven't heard them in some time. Do you think we lost them?"
Bard shrugged his shoulders. "For the moment. We'll see if they catch up or…"
He didn't have to finish his sentence. Bilbo knew that he was referring to whether or not Beorn and Tauriel lived. At the unspoken reminder of their possible deaths, he felt like his chest had become a hollow shell of bones and flesh. Losing a friend had never gotten easier no matter how many times he experienced it, or how old he grew. Bilbo thought he could live to be Gandalf's age and he would still feel like a gutted fish every time a friend passed away.
"Do you think they'll make it?" he asked, turning his body sideways so he could lean his back against the wall. "They've both survived so much more for so long. Do you think they can make it through this?"
"I think that, between the four of us, they have the best chances," replied the Man without looking away from the dark horizon. "Honestly, I'm more nervous about the bastards finding us. We do not have the best odds in winning against the Nazgûl."
Bilbo tilted his head back and studied his tall friend. In the moonlight, Bard's pale skin looked almost corpse-like, and he realized that the Man had lost a fair amount of weight since they started their journey. It showed in little ways like the sharp line of his jaw and the way the bones in his wrist stood pointed out. Bard had already sacrificed so much on this journey for him; would he end up giving his life away too for Bilbo's sake?
The Hobbit swallowed and tried his best not to let his feelings overtake him. "You can leave, you know. You have the best reason to survive. You can go back right now to Lake-town and your children with my full approval."
Bard glanced over his shoulder to give the Hobbit a dirty look. "Will you shut up please? I'm sick of your martyr crap. Stop being so damn selfless; it makes the rest of us look bad!"
Despite his best effort, Bilbo couldn't help but grin. "I can't help it. I'm a fussy old Hobbit at heart. When I look at you and the others, all I can think about is how many years you still have to live. I don't want to see those years cut short."
"I'm pretty sure Tauriel and Beorn have a few centuries on you," the Man pointed out, rolling his eyes. "And I'm not as young as you think. I probably have another twenty, maybe thirty more years before I kick the bucket. Common folk don't get to live as long like nobles."
"Maybe," he granted with a half shrug, "but you still deserve to live them out. I certainly wouldn't blame you if you left."
"I know you wouldn't," Bard admitted as his face softened. "But I would blame myself enough for both of us."
Oh…
Bilbo blinked and, for a moment, thought he saw a glimmer of the Bard he once knew; the Man who rebuilt Dale with his own blood and sweat and who was remembered as its greatest ruler. A Man who was willing to face Mordor in order to protect a friend, and who stayed by his side even in the face of death.
What did I ever do to deserve such a friend?
"Bard… Thank you," he said, leaning his head back against the wall. "Thank you."
Bard simply shrugged and gave him his boyish smile. "No thanks necessary. This kind of stuff just comes with the territory of being friends."
Bilbo felt the empty cavern in his heart grow wider. "I don't think taking on Nazgûl really falls under that category."
"Neither does taunting a dragon, but that certainly didn't stop you," the Man reminded, rolling his eyes as he turned back to stare at the horizon. "You should rest for a bit. I'll keep watch, for now."
Bilbo nodded and tried his best to relax. Though he didn't think it was possible for him to fall asleep in such a dire situation, he still tried to rest and regain his energy. He would need all of it if he wanted to keep his friend alive.
~*~
He did not know how long he was asleep before a strong nudge to his shoulder jerked him awake. When he opened his eyes and focused on who it was, he found Bard kneeling next to him with a harsh cast to his features.
"They found us," Bard stated bluntly. "I'm going to stall them for the time being. You slip out and get out of here during the chaos."
Bilbo blinked a few times as the words sunk into his brain. When he finally realized what the Man was saying, he reached out and grabbed his arm and dug his fingers into cloth and flesh. "Bard…"
Bard's face never faltered. "Bilbo, we both know that this is the only way. Every minute I hold them back gives you another to run."
"But they'll kill you!" the Hobbit yelled, shaking the arm he was holding. "You are no match for them even if you weren't still healing from the last battle!"
"Wow, thanks for that vote of confidence," the archer joked before growing serious again. "Look, I'm not stupid; I know that this is only going to end in one way. But I have to do this because you need to live. Bilbo. Not just because you're my friend, but because you are the only one who can protect my children's futures."
"But they need you now," he reminded, tightening his grip even more.
Bard glanced away as he clenched his jaw. "I know. They've lost their mother and now they're about to lose a father. But if my death means they get to live a life free of this evil, then so be it. I have a duty as a father to ensure that."
"Bard…"
"I'm going now," the archer said firmly as he pulled his arm loose and stood up. "Wait a minute before you leave. From what I've seen, there is a bridge in the back that you can use to get through Mirkwood. Head north like Tauriel said until you find the Elves."
Bilbo said nothing as he struggled to find the words that matched his feelings. Bard was about to leave and die just like Tauriel and Beorn, and nothing he said or did was going to change that. How could he even begin to express his sorrow and fear and guilt over such a sacrifice? How could he ever convince his friend not to face the Nazgûl just for him? But most of all, how could he express his sheer gratitude that he had found such a friend who would do so much for him?
But before he could voice any of this—because that was clearly his lot in life—Bard gave him one last smile before bounding down the stairs and out of view. As Bilbo watched him go, he wondered if the hollow part in his chest would ever be fixed now.
~*~
Escaping Dol Guldur turned out to be as simple as entering it. Bilbo thought that, if it was any other time, he would have been ecstatic that something was finally going easy for once. But as it was, finding an escape route was not nearly as difficult as leaving Dol Guldur—Bard—behind for good. It took every ounce of his Baggins rationality not to turn around and go to his friend's aid. Only the constant chanting of Frodo's name kept him from running back to try (and fail) to save Bard.
Once he finally escaped from the fortress, he ran straight into Mirkwood and didn't stop until his lungs began to burn. Even then he forced himself to keep going because he knew that if he stopped then he would begin to doubt. And doubt would only lead him to falter and turn around and run back to the ruins like the suicidal idiot that Nori kept claiming him to be.
But no matter how far he ran, Bilbo found that he could still hear the shrieks of the Nazgûl as they hunted for him. He didn't know if that meant Bard was dead (he hoped not) or if they had simply split up to find him. Whatever the reason for the chase, they were slowly but surely catching up to him.
I'm never going to escape them, he realized with dawning horror as he jumped over a tree root. They're going to find me and drag me back to Sauron. Then everyone I know will die because of me. Tauriel, Beorn, and… and Bard will have died for nothing. Everything I've done to this point will have been for nothing!
The ring laughed at him. Fail, fail, fail! They have come and you have failed! Lost, lost, lost!
Shut up, he snarled back with less passion than usual. I can't think with you yapping!
The ring did not stop. Lost, Hobbit, you have lost! He is coming for Us and We will win! You cannot stop Us!
Bilbo shuddered and finally allowed himself to stop and lean against a tree. His heart felt like a small and frantic bird trying to escape its cage, and he swore that no matter how fast he took in air, he would never be able to get quite enough. Everything hurt and ached in some manner and he knew he would not be able to continue running for much longer.
I can't escape but they can't get the ring either, he thought as he fiddled with the ring in his pocket. What should I do? Bury it somewhere? Toss it into a river? Maybe—
The answer hit him so suddenly that he gasped and slid down against the tree. Glancing around the dark forest, he searched for a pair of watery blue eyes that he was sure were watching him. When he couldn't find them, he decided to take the more direct approach.
"Gollum," the Hobbit rasped as he pulled out the ring and held it up so it reflected the moonlight. "Come and take it! Take the ring and run far away! Don't ever turn back, don't let anyone have it! Just run as far away from here as possible!"
There was a long moment of silence before the mad blue eyes he was looking for finally appeared across from him. Gollum did not come forward as he had expected but instead lingered in the bushes; watching him and weighing the options. Bilbo sneered at the sight and lightly tossed the ring into the middle of them.
"Take it and run," he ordered again, and this time the creature listened. Quickly and silently, the mad menace darted out and scooped up the ring before shifting back into the bushes. It gave Bilbo one last look with a glint in its eyes that he could not identify before disappearing for good.
With both the creature and ring gone, Bilbo leaned back against the tree and sighed. He didn't know if he had done the right thing by giving the ring away, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. He was alone and defenseless with nine ancient beings chasing after him. He no longer had any allies with him; was too far away to get help; and finally was growing too tired and weak to deal with the ring any longer. What more could he really do?
I'm sorry Bard, he thought as he closed his eyes and tried not to give into despair. I'm sorry too Tauriel and Beorn. You've all died to give me a chance to run and I failed. If we meet in the afterlife, please forgive me.
Alone and lost, Bilbo silently listened to the cries of the Nazgûl as they grew stronger and stronger with every minute.