no, wait, thor.
we don't have to help anybody.
why should we care?
so?
erik the viking! the things you seek are not in our power. we don't make men love each other or hate each other.
look.  erik.  odin whistles. the other children look over their shoulders. from out of the darkness of the perimeter of the hall, shadows emerge.  shadows that, as they shuffle and stumble into the light, reveal themselves to be the heroes that the vikings had expected to find in valhalla. but they are not hale and hearty giants quaffing mead and reliving their great battles.  they are, in fact, a sorry lot.  the slain-in-battle still bearing the hideous deformities of their fatal wounds. most have a sword or an axe buried in some part of their anatomy. one has been cleft in twain.  the vikings react to this grisly gathering as more and more of them emerge from the shadows. they gasp as they notice snorri, ivar, thorfinn, loki and leif the lucky.
fenrir the wolf has gone, erik. but will men cease fighting each other? that is not in our power.  odin starts to laugh. all the other children start to laugh.  so do the dead heroes. erik and his men look round uneasily.
return? you have set your foot in the halls of asgaard, erik. you cannot return. aud looks round to see how the others react. it is as she had feared. erik pales. the blood drains from the other's faces. aud whispers something to harald. harald looks at her blankly.
stay here? ha ha! this is valhalla. this is reserved for those slain-in-battle.
for you there is only the pit of hel! as odin says this there is a roaring sound and the flames and smoke are suddenly reversed and as the roaring increases the flames are sucked down altogether to reveal the black pit of hel itself. and now the pit is sucking the vikings into it.  their hair blows.  they try to withstand the force that is drawing them towards the abyss.  the gods look on in some amusement. but some of the dead are concerned.